BUILDING BLUEPRINT
Next level lyrical insight is a moment away.
Lyrical Analysis of...
Southern Streets
- (VERSE 1: Lucifer/Me)
- Catchin’ attention of these politicians and government activists,
- smack a bitch, half of this rappin’ shit ain’t even happenin’,
- treated as media scapegoats and viewed as public enemies,
- but it’s for shock value and money, we simply draw from this energy,
- this music’s for people who just feel always stuck in a slump,
- crunched in a punch, absolutely just fucked in a stump,
- we’re seen like we’re dangerous and have some criminal intent,
- in a political sin wreck, we deserve subliminal respect,
- we need to fix these streets, people livin’ in the poverty,
- these situations ain’t too shocking given the economy,
- what you know about bein’ broke, seein’ people dealin’ coke,
- I address these issues so you and me are agreein’ both,
- your fuckin’ neighborhood doesn’t determine your social class,
- even though ghettoes and hoods are part of the local past,
- there’s people in the Atlanta suburbs who are dirt poor,
- they got somethin’ to die for but just nothin’ to work for,
- could become somethin’ great, but would rather beat thugs,
- as Big L would say all these bitches are just street struck,
- I express these messages but a lot of ‘em might aspire,
- they can’t do much, they grew up seein’ that lifestyle,
- dealers walkin’ a tightwire in the public housing projects,
- on the hot block movin’ weight and hustlin’ mounds of product,
- sellin’ crack to the youths, who just take it in,
- they think the rock is cool, they take and make it then,
- although, don’t just go and get these facts twisted,
- it ain’t one sided, I ain’t really half wicked,
- I grew up with working class friends, staying true,
- aspired to be rich and famous, they made it through,
- say you could tell us all about it, no you couldn’t G,
- you can’t tell a story for others, you must agree,
- I’m just statin’ these facts raw, let’s make fuckin’ peace,
- follow the yellow brick road, stroll down Southern streets
- HOOK:
- Stuck in an endless jail, with heart and mind in sight,
- without a sentence bail, it’s 25 to life,
- locked in chains of rhymes and cuffed in beats,
- take a walk of fate, stroll down Southern streets (x2)
- VERSE 2 (Al Kapone):
- Yo, this music’s disrespected by those who caused the urban flight,
- those same people, the rich playin’ suburban white suburbanites,
- protesters are wavin’ picketing signs, these are different times,
- what happened to music’s meaningful lyrics and intricate rhymes,
- you think it’s sinister, like we’ve committed a sickening crime,
- y’all just skim through words and you’re just skippin’ the lines,
- read in between those blank sheets of paper, then you’ll see,
- I still cherish my childhood and reminisce on my memories,
- I think everyone remembers the treatment by the upper class,
- working and middle class people were viewed as gutter trash,
- now why is there so much discrimination in my nation and,
- there’s not enough peaceful activism and too much racism,
- New Orleans, yeah, from the ‘burbs all the way to the hot block,
- the projects to the urban hood, where bitches pop rocks,
- leavin’ cops shot, I wish people would get off the streets,
- I’m just kickin’ this shit to ya while rhymin’ on the beat,
- the Southern streets
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.
Learn More >