Lyrical Analysis of...
Can you feel me
- I don't know if you be feelin' what i'm sayin' in my raps
- having dreams of makin' stacks away from the hood rats
- Away from the trouble away form the poverty
- i was feelin' like a man before i even hit puberty
- Tried to be a good son following the rules
- but i wasn't getting noticed so i started packin' tools
- Hanging out with the fools sold a little bit of weed
- don't be fucking with the stash unless you wan't yo' nose to bleed
- Never got caught by the punk police
- know this city like the back of my hand ain't no peace
- Fo' youngstas like me its either jail or getting shot
- can't escape from reality if you be hitting the pot
- Sometimes i break down in tears from all of the stress
- i possess many styles but i'm far from blessed
- Don't have a lot of homies just be chillin by myself
- I don't trust them they be fake bad for my nerves and health
- Moving with the stealth so i can't be detected
- attacking you bustas when you least expect it
- If you have something good you best protect it
- cuz' i know these madafuckas gonna come and try to take it! Don't fake it!
- Can you feel what i be sayin when the beat starts playin
- lyrically slayin hopin mama still prayin
- Every day and every night it's the same ol' fight
- gotta try to keep it tight gotta try to keep the light!
- Can you feel what i be sayin when the beat starts playin
- lyrically slayin hopin mama still prayin
- Every day and every night it's the same ol' fight
- gotta try to keep it tight gotta try to keep the light!
LYRICAL GRADE
B+
RHYME DENSITY
22.49%
RHYME LENGTH
Rhyme Syllables
82
Total Syllables
365
Rhyming Lines
28/29
Unique Words
62.2%
Slang
11.9%
Profanity
0.4%
Avg. Syllables Per Word
1.33
Word Cloud
don't know feelin' i'm sayin' raps having dreams makin' stacks away hood rats trouble form poverty man before even hit puberty tried good son following rules wasn't getting noticed started packin' tools hanging out fools sold little bit weed fucking stash unless wan't yo' nose bleed never caught punk police city back hand ain't peace fo' youngstas jail shot can't escape reality hitting pot sometimes break down tears stress possess many styles far blessed lot homies chillin myself trust fake bad nerves health moving stealth detected attacking bustas expect something best protect cuz' madafuckas gonna come try take feel sayin beat starts playin lyrically slayin hopin mama still prayin day night it's same ol' fight gotta keep tight light
Profanity
fucking
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