BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
2:23 Ratio
- ayo, the autopsy report just came back lyrical homicide
- some old washed up groupie still claiming he got prime time
- leader of lost souls, fifty deep but the ship still sinking
- yall the some with the weakest thinking
- old head preaching lyrics but his flow got arthritis
- stuck in '95 like his jeans and his fitted
- claiming legend status but the resume empty
- forty followers deep and still aint mentioning me?
- perks of being irrelevant, nobody checking
- rap game nursing home where the bars come with bedpans and bed wetting
- family tree must be bare, no fruit on the branches
- just a bunch of yes men nodding like bobbleheads at bad answers
- call yourself artistic? man, your script look like toddler scribbles
- partner in crime? more like partner in whining, sniffing the residuals
- yellow belly scared to step in the ring
- holding hands with weakness like yall share a last name
- buddy rhymes, stuck together like glue and regret
- I split atoms while yall split rent in a studio nobody respects
- drafting bars? nah, drafting excuses for failure
- I etch stone, yall trace stickers, art school dropouts with no patience
- caution tape around your career, do not resuscitate
- hype man to a ghost echo with no weight
- marking territory? nah, pissing weak like a dog in heat
- I tag skyscrapers, you tag along, lost in the bleachers
- Sidekick with no hero, Robin with no batman
- I joker the game, why so serious fam
- mama must be proud, raised a failure with no backbone
- daddy issues? nah, daddy left cause the bars was so bland
- whole family tree wilted, passed down like bad genes
- perks of being forgettable, nobody mourning
- I bury careers in real time, wake up, its morning
- 2:23 thats the time on the clock when I strike
- two minutes of silence for the career I just sliced
- forty deep? forty sheep in a pen with no shepherd
- leader lost in the fog, GPS screaming "turn back"
- perks of being washed, nobody calls for the encore
- I paint masterpieces, yall finger paint on the floor
- they say "respect your elders" but your rhymes got dementia
- stuck on loop like medicaid cards in a rent a center
- perks of aging badly your whole squads depends posse
- adult diapers full of weak bars and false prophecy
- your birth certificate an apology letter from the condom factory
- family tree so weak birds build nests out of sympathy
- forty deep, forty sheep queuing for slaughter
- your "movement" aint a cult, just lost sons and lost daughters
- yall crayon on dennys placemats
- your pen game so weak editors send it back in ziploc bags
- some of yall piss stained cowardice
- dickriding so intense you need UberXL for your chorus
- your rhymes like your girl, basic, bored, and unsatisfied
- my syllables hit deeper than the daddy issues you hide
- studio like a methadone clinic for wack addicts
- yo trade feature verses for rides to your probation visits
- your bloodlines a cautionary tale told in group homes
- generational weakness baked in your chromosome bones
- mama shouldve swallowed, the world didnt need another jester
- daddys real gift was disappearing, smartest move he ever measured
- your whole lineage weaker than dollar store condoms
- a family tree that bears nothing but rotten outcomes
- you have lifetime supply of Ls
- your existence proof God got bored and made mistakes as well
- 2:23 thats seconds it takes to erase you
- two decades too late, three flows to break you
- your "crew" like group therapy for the lyrically disabled
- a support group for MCs who consistently failed it
- I bring hurricanes where yall bring light drizzles
- your whole catalog weaker than your auntie's whiskey principles
- you make garbage men feel noble
- your verses should come with hazard pay and a biohobel
- last rights administered by the coroners rhyme book
- time of death? when you first touched that weak ass mic hook\
- your discography like a CVS receipt of Ls
- long, pointless, and ultimately embarrassing as hell
- flowers, bruh, just piss on the grave of your career
- the only thing planting in your future is prison yard fear
- your legacy? a urinal cake in raps restroom
- soon to be flushed like your mamas third husbands trust fund
What is a Blueprint?
A blueprint is like a report card for your lyrics. It contains a lyrical breakdown and analysis of all the words, syllables, and rhymes in your song.
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