Welcome to the detailed analysis of "City Of Stars" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how undefined weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "City Of Stars" 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 undefined 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 undefined's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "City Of Stars" not only celebrates undefined'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!
I know that you think this song is for you
I used to long for you and adore you
My life was just fine way back before you
Now when you reach out I just ignore you
'Cause this ain't a love song (woah)
This is, "So long"
You did me so wrong for so long
For so long, so long
No I never thought I could live my life without you
All you ever seem to do is scream and make it all about you
And so I doubt you
I doubt you even know what's on my mind
I said, I doubt you
I doubt you even know why I left you behind
I know that I've been living
I know that I've been living
I know that I've been living
I know that I've been living
In the city of stars, where there's flying cars
A brand new home for everyone and even life on Mars
In the city of stars, where there's flying cars
A brand new home for everyone and even life on Mars
'Cause this ain't a love song (woah)
This is, "So long"
You did me so wrong for so long
For so long, so long
And so I doubt you
I doubt you even know what's on my mind
I said, I doubt you
I doubt you even know how I left you
Yeah, uh, yeah
Much love to Def Jam, even though they under-shipped me
Did me like Bobby did Whitney, but the fans was with me
Know my name around the world, but it still ain't hit me
All the talent in the world and they still don't get me
I didn't talk about my race on the whole first album
But black vs. white bullshit was the still the outcome
How come these motherfuckers can't seem to let it go?
Judging rap by race instead of the better flow
Who gives a fuck who made it? I penetrate it and innovate it
While they emulate it, give a fuck if I'm hated
I'ma do it 'til I get it, fuck a nominated
Bitch, I dominate it
Yeah, emails from Rick Rubin, dinner with No ID
Chilling with B-I-G D-A-Double-D-Y K-A-N-E
Not many get to what I do and now enemies
Thinking they slick as fuck like the finna befriending me
But let's get back to the music, I'm gone
Outside of this solar system I'm searching for paradise
Livin' the life, bitch, I've been a vet
Fuck all these cats on the internet
I love Hip Hop and I hate Hip Hop
'Cause people that love Pac hope that Drake get shot
'Cause he raps about money and bitches, for heaven's sake
Pac did the same shit, just on a drum break
Now I ain't wanna name names, I'm just droppin' this game
We all people, all equal
Now let me let off, yeah
Now let me let off
Tougher than raw denim, my flow you can't identify
Talib said it best back in the day, we just tryna get by
Two words, Mos Def, in my headphones
Black on one side, now I'm in another zone
Switch flows, fuck 'em up
Play the game, run 'em up
Yeah, I sold a couple records but people don't give a fuck
All the people want is real, guess that's why Logic appeal
All the power in the world, hold that, tell me how that feel?
Racism on television and magazines
Paying taxes so soldiers don't run out of magazines, goddamn
Country don't give a fuck who I am
Just a youngin' on the rise with a mic in my hand
And I am, here's to the Roc
The .45 Glock that my older brother pop, shot
And I am, finally on top
Too high up, not a drop
Stop, we gettin' guap, gettin' guap
I am livin' like I ain't got it
Spit the flow so robotic, man who gives a fuck about it?
Maryland 'til I die but I had to get the fuck up out it
I love it and hate it, you probably don't know man, I doubt it