Lyrical Breakdown of Got One - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Got One" 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 "Got One" 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 "Got One" 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!
4KTrey
We put guns to the face
Ain't nobody safe, who gon' die today?
It's a murder business
Had to tell lil' mama "Bag it up", come here, drop that ass on me
We got sticks inside this fuckin' truck, you play they wack your ass for free
Bro died, I was down for weeks, I was on plenty drugs
Dog hoes talk down on me, but fuck 'em, I got plenty love
From the streets to the cellblock, he got red dot, hollows hot
It get steep, play with pale stuff 'til my arm lock, I scrape the pot
Gangster bitch, tryin' hold me down, she see I frown and wonder why
Surveillance sit outside my home, tryna take me down, I'm duckin' cops
I'm a thug nigga, fuck you, bitch, I got gravediggers
Run with me, I'll bust you, you bitch
Fuck the campus, I'm at school with that stick
You gon' get bluesed, you get hit, break all the rules, get 'em fixed
Cutthroat, ain't complyin' with shit
Mama, kill these pussy niggas that's dissin, now, you know I gotta
I'm tryna shoot the hoes that's with 'em, 'cause I'm a fuckin' problem
I'm gon' pop somethin, I run with sticks, they all be goblins
I be head-huntin', lil' bro just called and said he got one
Had to tell lil' mama "Bag it up", come here, drop that ass on me
Stacks inside my pants, I got 'em neat, I come up from the streets
Hold on, stop this bitch, I bag 'em up, shoot first, now come run up on me
I leave out red, I bang that green, don't diss out peace, best keep your heat
From the streets to the cellblock, he got red dot, hollows hot
It get steep, play with pale stuff 'til my arm lock, I scrape the pot
Gangster bitch, tryin' hold me down, she see I frown and wonder why
Surveillance sit outside my home, tryna take me down, I'm duckin' cops
Get the drop, we pop a opp
Load ups, in my brother eye
We kept plenty sticks at Papa house
Before you know, they roll me out
They posted up, we spin around
Lil bro let my window down, this K come out
We spray around, fall, can't shoot back, we leave you found
Top ain't known to fuck around, 4Tre3 made me
On lock up, guards gon' slam me down, these bitches ain't gon' save me
On phones, watch what you say to me
Come face to me, they might raid me
Can't leave trace when we slang the heat
Probably at the crib wit' a .223
Mama, kill these pussy niggas that's dissin, now, you know I gotta
I'm tryna shoot the hoes that's with 'em, 'cause I'm a fuckin' problem
I'm gon' pop somethin, I run with sticks, they all be goblins
I be head-huntin', lil' bro just called and said he got one
Had to tell lil' mama "Bag it up", come here, drop that ass on me
We got sticks inside this fuckin' truck, you play they wack your ass for free
Bro died, I was down for weeks, I was on plenty drugs
Dog hoes talk down on me, but fuck 'em, I got plenty love