Lyrical Breakdown of Big Bankroll - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Big Bankroll" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how YoungBoy Never Broke Again weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Big Bankroll" 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 YoungBoy Never Broke Again 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 YoungBoy Never Broke Again's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Big Bankroll" not only celebrates YoungBoy Never Broke Again'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!
(Drell On The Track)
(Goddamn, BJ with another one), yeah
I'm full of drugs, and I'm still turnt up, nigga
I'm still in love, and I'm, and I'm, and I'm muggin', nigga
I'll kill a nigga if he ever try to slug a nigga
Huh, yeah, look
Big bankroll in my pocket, okay, let's go
Toting on 223s with my partner, smoking hella dope
Playboy lifestyle, I got hella hoes
Then had the baddest of 'em all
And I still ain't never chose
Fuck that shit, hang up the phone, ain't talkin' no money, man, I'm done with that
Told my youngin' he better not stop spinnin' on him 'til we done with that
I'm walkin' with a hunnid stacks, this drum, it hold a hunnid, yeah
He took that blick straight out his pants and top
Ain't gave that boy no pass
I put that bitch right on his ass
I say, "Murder," we gon' the blow the curb up
I'm talkin' to the point where they can't even serve nothin'
I say they all deceased whenever that we swerve on 'em
You better be on point, we pull up shootin' tryna murk something
One body, two body, three body, four
Five bodies, now we knockin' at your door
Been in that 'Raq for 'bout a month, these niggas hoes
Straight down with them poles, bending curves with my lit bros
Out at night, get your life stole
Harbor freight, don't use no stove
Mold the shit then get it sold
Face the bitch, he break the code
I take that Tar and Ferry, fuck that nigga, I could make my own
We call it Hard Feddi, blood on this, you take it, lose your dome
I got niggas servin' for me now my baby mamas used to fuck
That spot you known them niggas for to be at, I'm the reason they ain't there
I'm the founder of the killing season, every month I pay that fare
Nigga know I'm in that car most time tryna see if they out here, bitch
Big bankroll in my pocket, okay, let's go
Toting on 223s with my partner smoking hella dope
Playboy lifestyle, I got hella hoes
Then had the baddest of 'em all
And I still ain't never chose
Fuck that shit, hang up the phone, ain't talkin' no money, man, I'm done with that
Told my youngin' he better not stop spinnin' on him 'til we done with that
I'm walkin' with a hunnid stacks, this drum, it hold a hunnid, yeah
He took that blick straight out his pants and top
Ain't gave that boy no pass
I put that bitch right on his ass
Do she love me or do she love me not?
I don't know, I gotta see, but check me out, XO
I'm like is I'm gon' kill him or he gon' kill me?
But, fuck, I think I jinxed myself 'cause I just ran out of leaves
Man, look, I'm doped up, and I'm fucked up, fuck that pussy nigga
Nigga know them jiggas got dope inside 'em, so I'm bucked up tryna zip a nigga
Since I was 18 on, who made me?
I ain't go two months without killing me a nigga
Let them niggas talk that shit for Insta'
God'll tell you I'm a bloody nigga, lil' bitch
Two books I split between two niggas, ain't get it back
Officer, when you talk 'bout selling drugs, I sell verses, you mean crack
'Cause that's the only I got, I serve that shit there back to back
Y'all paint me like I'm made of violence
Any case on me refer to shootin' back
They can't pinpoint who I whacked
Bring you bitches out like back to back
Make 'em come and draw the chalk, who next?
I want another hat like motherfuck that
I tell my twin, "You better not motherfuckin' touch that"
Every time we see you up that, bitch, you know you gettin' bust at
Big bankroll in my pocket, okay, let's go
Toting on 223s with my partner smoking hella dope
Playboy lifestyle, I got hella hoes
Then had the baddest of 'em all
And I still ain't never chose
Fuck that shit, hang up the phone, ain't talkin' no money, man, I'm done with that
Told my youngin' he better not stop spinnin' on him 'til we done with that
I'm walkin' with a hunnid stacks, this drum, it hold a hunnid, yeah
He took that blick straight out his pants and top
Ain't gave that boy no pass
I put that bitch right on his ass
Murder, we gon' throw the curveball
Gotta get it, boy, them pussy ass niggas can't say nothin'
(Drell On The Track), we gon' pile up, drill 'em all, yeah
(Goddamn, BJ with another one), pull up, we gon' spray 'em down, yeah