Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Somebody Told Me’ by 8Off. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of 8Off or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.
[Chorus]
Somebody told me that this rap shit was fun
You get to smoke weed and hold big guns
Stand on stage rockin’ your Timbs wit your sons
That’s bullshit yo I’m out to get these funds
Yo, yo somebody told me that threw a hotter joint dies
Could he see it? EPMD Aguilar recognize
Niggas was stuck on Diggy before Biggie and Nas
Test guy reported in The Source, even thought about “Best Buys”
My twelve-bar Count Dracula wit lyrics spectacular
Sippin’ out of Coke and he’s drinkin’ terror daiquiris and chrome
backwards
Challenge any woman, balls nothing, rock the hardest
Racoons rap with your soloists if artist
Puttin’ it down on the day nine thousand, that’s a cell with stories to tell
Off those cells we’re livin’ well
In the nine-eight-off, country club plink off
While you’re way off, check all systems, it’s time we take off
[Chorus: x2]
Guns with banana clips, two Rolexes to master whips
A point four-five under my armpit
Another one in the glove compartment
Money startin’ shit, brand new shoes on spank shit
Tek nines, after parties with mad dimes
Bitches twist the vine, I’m high and the moon’s mine
We’re out to get mines, on a regular
On the south, probably took the dreaded predator’s pirate treasure
In the crib I bought the leather, plus a movie screen
So my team can play Sega plus the gods in Vegas
An ounce of weed in every type of flavor
Bank accounts wit fat paper, a major player ’cause
[Chorus]
Higgity-hardcore, sewer rats keep it raw
Beach houses and more, puffin weed on Seymour
Pliggity-plush carpets cover floors, on bus tours
Chrome point forty-fours, diggity-diamonds on paws
All my slick cats above the laws, higgity-hide records in stores
Hit squad, second world tour
Kiggity-cameras compass on doors, signin’ autographs
After, where? In corridors
Figgity-f*ck walls, I’m buildin’, splittin’ Dutches spillin’
Chillin’ until these pilgrims start ice grillin’
Figgity-frontin’ hard like a villain, Das EFX’ll make a killin’
And grab the cheese up like Sicilians cos
[Chorus: x2]
Got the funds
This rap shit was fun, kid
We hold big guns, diamond gyms and Timbs and all that