Lyrical Breakdown of The New Style - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "The New Style" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Beastie Boys weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "The New Style" 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 Beastie Boys 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 Beastie Boys's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "The New Style" not only celebrates Beastie Boys'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!

And on the cool check in Center stage on the mic And we're puttin' it on wax It's the new style Four and three and two and one, what up And when I'm on the mic, the suckers run, word Down with Ad Rock and Mike D and you ain't And I got more juice than Picasso got paint Got rhymes that are rough and rhymes that are slick I'm not surprised you're on my dick B-E-A-S-T-I-E, what up Mike D Ah yeah, that's me I got franks and pork and beans Always bust the new routines I get it, I got it, I know it's good The rhymes I write, you wish you would I'm never in training, my voice is not straining People always biting, and I'm sick of complaining So I went into the locker room during classes Went into your locker, and I smashed your glasses You're from Secausus, I'm from Manhattan You're jealous of me because your girlfriend is cattin' There it is, kick it Father to many, married to none And in case you're unaware, I carry a gun, where? Stepped into the party, the place was over packed Saw the kid that dissed my homeboy, shot him in the back Man, I had to get a beeper 'cause my phone is tapped You better keep your mouth shut 'cause I'm fully strapped I got money in the bank, I can still get high That's why your girlfriend thinks that I'm so fly I've got money and juice, twin sisters in my bed Their father had envy, so I shot him in the head And if I played guitar, I'd be Jimmy Page The girlies I like are underage, check it Girls with boyfriends are the kinds I like I'll steal your honey like I stole your bike My father, he's jealous 'cause I'm making that green I've got most the girlies' numbers from the places I been There it is, kick it You wanna know why, because I'm October 31st That is my date of birth I got to the party, you know what? I did the Smurf Taxing all females from coast to coast And when I get my fill, I'm chilly most We rag-tag girlies back at the hotel And then we all switch places when I ring the bell I chill at White Castle 'cause it's the best But I fly at Fat Burger when I'm way out west K-I-N-G-A-D, whammy All the fine ladies, they are on my jammy Went to the prom, wore the fly blue rental Got six girlies in my Lincoln Continental I met this girl at the party, and she started to flirt I told her some rhymes, and she pulled up her skirt Spent some bank, got a high powered jumbo Rolled up the wooly and I watched Colombo Let me clear my throat, kick it over here baby pop And let all the fly skimmies, feel the beat drop Coolin' on the corner on a hot summer day Just me, my posse and MCA A lot of beer, a lot of girls, and a lot of cursing Twenty-two automatic on my person Got my hand in my pocket and my finger's on the trigger My posse's gettin' big, and my posse's gettin' bigger Some voices got treble, some voices got bass We got the kind of voices that are in your face Like the bun to the burger, and like the burger to the bun Like the cherry to the apple to the peach to the plum I'm the king of the Ave., and I'm the king of the block Well, I'm MCA, and I'm the King Ad Rock Well, I'm Mike D, I got all the fly juice On the checkin' at the party on the forty deuce Walking down the block with the fresh fly threads Beastie Boys fly the biggest heads Brooklyn