Lyrical Breakdown of Hot (Remix) [feat. Gunna and Travis Scott] - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Hot (Remix) [feat. Gunna and Travis Scott]" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

  • Lyric Overview: Witness how Young Thug weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Hot (Remix) [feat. Gunna and Travis Scott]" is a testament to masterful songwriting.
  • Rhyme and Rhythm Analysis: Our Lazyjot editor highlights the ingenious use of multi-syllabic rhymes and the rhythm pattern that Young Thug employs. Understand the construction of each verse and how it contributes to the song's overall impact.
  • Syllable Pattern Insights: Dive deeper into the structural elements of the lyrics. See how the syllable count varies across the song, adding a unique rhythm and flow to Young Thug's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Hot (Remix) [feat. Gunna and Travis Scott]" not only celebrates Young Thug's artistic prowess but also serves as an educational tool for aspiring songwriters. If this analysis inspires you and you'd like to see your own songs analyzed in this way, join the Lazyjot community. Register at Lazyjot and start exploring the full potential of your lyrical creativity. Turn your thoughts into rhymes and your rhymes into songs with Lazyjot!

Wheezy outta here

Hot, hot, hot, hot

Hot, hot, hot, hot

Hot, hot, hot, hot

Hot, hot, hot, hot

Everything litty, I love when it's hot

Turned up the city, I broke off the notch

Got some more millis, I keep me a knot

I created history and made me a lot

He tried to diss me and ended on Fox

We call 'em chopsticks 'cause they gonna chop

Took her out of Follies 'cause her pussy pop

I run it like Nike, we got it on lock

Cartier eye

I'm the bossman in a suit with no tie

I can't be sober, I gotta stay high

Pour me some syrup in a Canada Dry

Ridin' in the spaceship like Bonnie and Clyde

Don't worry, baby, I keep me some fire

Shenenehs and Birkins, she cannot decide

The latest Mercedes her go-to surprise

Don't sleep on miss lady, her pussy a prize

Dick in her back while I'm grippin' her sides

Bigger Maybach, this ain't regular size

We really fly, we like pelican glide

Bitch, you ain't slick, I can tell the disguise

Upgraded my wrist, put baguettes in that Sky

She sing, I might sign her and change her whole life

I told her to gargle and work on her highs

Everything litty, I love when it's hot

Turned up the city, I broke off the notch

Got some more millis, I keep me a knot

I created history and made me a lot

He tried to diss me and ended on Fox

We call 'em chopsticks 'cause they gonna chop

Took her out of Follies 'cause her pussy pop

I run it like Nike, we got it on lock

Cash, money, checks, cash

Addy, Birkin, brand new extendos

I just wanna fuck the bitch by myself

I just passed her to the dawg like my Sprite

I took the Bentley coupe back, then I hopped in a Cayenne (skrrt)

I put the bitch in the front of the Bentley, in front of the driver (skrrt)

Ayy, man, this synthetic weed, you can't smoke in the Rolls-Royce, woah, woah (yeah, yeah)

I'm still double cupped up, I'm drinkin', I shoot off your tires, huh (doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo)

I'm in the coupe by myself

I had to kick a door when I was five

Keep the old ones on the shelf

Whole 16 round in the fire

I'm sick and tired of these young niggas act like they firin', they tellin' these lies

Actin' like they the ones created this and they get all the drip from my guys

Yeah, Cartier eyes

Cartier coat, Cartiers the watch

Cartier love, Cartier the thot

Cartier specs, buffalo on the side

Princess cut diamonds, they Cartier, yeah

Cartier bag for the Cartier thot

Sky Wrangler coupe with two hundred the dash

Cartier jeans, ain't no way I can sag

Ain't no way I'ma ever gon' go out bad

I can't go out, no way I'ma go out

I just grip on her ass and I show out

I sit like a champ and I wait on a hold-out

I just whip up a new Chanel Patek

I whip with the wrist and I don't break the door out

Turn the whole top floor to a whorehouse

Hundred racks in ones, dude brought the flood out (oh)

Cash, money, checks, cash (ooh, ah)

Addy, Birkin, brand new extendos (ooh)

I just wanna fuck the bitch by myself (ah)

I just passed her to the dawg like my Sprite (ooh, it's lit)

Hot like the 504 Boyz how I move through the lobby (Hot)

Since '012, La Flame been hot just to show you the timeframe (La Flame)

Hundred mil' down on my desk, but I'm still up deciding (straight up)

Match the M's in my account to the truck in my driveway (skrrt, skrrt)

I'm in that four-door by myself

Know it's a hundred more niggas outside

Know they gon' ride 'til the death (ooh)

Had some good years, ain't no way I get tired

I gotta do what I feel

Every day Super Bowl, fuck it, oh well

I put a lot on myself

In the field, Richard Mille on like Odell (let's go)

She slid her hand down my pants just to grab the torpedo (doo-doo-doo)

I had to go back and link with my slimes like I'm thirteen and zero (it's lit)

I told her, "Baby, this not the remix, this a part of the sequel" (part of the seq')

No, we not livin' the same, we not makin' the same, we not equal (no), yeah, yeah, yeah

Look mom I can fly

Had some troubles, put that shit in the sky

Brought the angels, know the devil would try

It's so hot, you thought Paris Hilton done said it (yeah, yeah)

When we come out, we can't help but leave damage (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Afterparty, Astroworld out the planet (yeah, yeah)

Laid the map out, but they didn't understand it

When I'm on, know that I fuck on a Grammy, yeah

Hot, hot, hot, hot

Hot, hot, hot, hot

Hot, hot, hot, hot, damn

Hot, hot, hot, hot