Lyrical Breakdown of STS - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "STS" 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 "STS" 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 "STS" 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!
Supa, aha
Two-door, double R, ridin' in the foreign car, niggas can't see me
If I pop another X pill, I'll be out my misery
Crazy presi' beze' on the motherfuckin' Rollie
You roll, you should pour, I fuck around and roll
I'm gon' slam the door, slam the door, slam the door, slam the door
Slam the door on the Aventador
Let it up, let it up, let it up, let it up, now it look like cockroach
Hop out with a Patek on my wrist and keep the .44
Hopscotching the thot, thot, I'ma fuck her at my mother spot
Steady chasin' the check, turned the bank into a nest
Cuban link around my neck takin' a bird bath
Cartier bracelet got pointers and the Audemar to match
If they talking 'bout my game, they speakin' all cash
New Bent, paper tag, I can see they envy and mad
I done fucked around and got in my bag (my bag)
I done stayed down and got me a bag (bag)
No calculators still doin' math
Gotta add up and tear me a tag
Rockstar, showing up with them bands
I just jumped off a jet to a sprinter (yeah, yeah)
I got Brazillians makin' me dinner
Took a loss and it made me a winner
Wearin' Monclear, it ain't even winter
And the wind got the clouds in the ceiling
Add the money up, subtract the feeling
They say, "Slatt," when we walk in the building
I can't save her if she going with the fishes
Copped a new gun to switch up my mission
Slime shit, I ran up the digits, count it with no intermission
Her best friend done gave me the dishin'
I mixed up the sherbet and cookie (yeah)
Off the top, roll with a groupie, have a menage when I land, ah
Today I did Dior and Gucci, my Off-White was lookin' like dandruff
Three white bitches, I'm a clansmen, Kendra, Khloe and Karan
Came out the gutter, I made it, yeah, Wall Street money like Madoff
Yeah, ahah, all that hatin' ain't phase us
Laugh to bank like faizon, still ain't takin' no days off
Two-door, double R, ridin' in the foreign car, niggas can't see me
If I pop another X pill, I'll be out my misery
Crazy presi' beze' on the motherfuckin' Rollie
You roll, you should pour, I fuck around and roll
I'm gon' slam the door, slam the door, slam the door, slam the door
Slam the door on the Aventador
Let it up, let it up, let it up, let it up, now it look like cockroach
Hop out with a Patek on my wrist that keep the .44
Hopscotchin' the thot, thot, I'ma fuck her at my mother spot
Oxycotin she feel it in her test tubes
Money, money, callin', I'ma answer my phone like, what it do
I, keep a quarter pound or two
Big Ballencies, yeah, that's what the money do
Yeah, she swear to God that she love me
I was just pourin' out the bubbly
I was fillin' up drinks with this muddy
Draco with me, it ain't about my money
Dr. Dre, Eminem, we go and get them M&M's
My house a exhibit, it's dim, I was rockin' some Off-White like Timbs
Let's go!
Two-door, double R, ridin' in the foreign car, niggas can't see me
If I pop another X pill, I'll be out my misery
Crazy presi' beze' on the motherfuckin' Rollie
You roll, you should pour, I fuck around and roll
I'm gon' slam the door, slam the door, slam the door, slam the door
Slam the door on the Aventador
Let it up, let it up, let it up, let it up, now it look like cockroach
Hop out with a Patek on my wrist that keep the .44
Hopscotchin' the thot, thot, I'ma fuck her at my mother spot
Two-door, double R, ridin' in the foreign car, niggas can't see me
Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, woah
Crazy presi' beze' on the motherfuckin' Rollie
Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, woah
I'm gon' slam the door, slam the door, slam the door, slam the door
Slam the door on the Aventador
Hop out with a Patek on my wrist that keep the .44
Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, woah, wish