Lyrical Breakdown of Holdin' It Down (feat. A.G., Miss Jones & Stan Spit) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Holdin' It Down (feat. A.G., Miss Jones & Stan Spit)" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Big L weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Holdin' It Down (feat. A.G., Miss Jones & Stan Spit)" 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 Big L 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 Big L's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Holdin' It Down (feat. A.G., Miss Jones & Stan Spit)" not only celebrates Big L'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!

(Big L) Yea yeah, Flamboyant Entertainment (no doubt) Yo, y'all fellas like to stress them chicks Impress them chicks, spend money to dress them chicks I sex them chicks and send them home Corleone is known to be stoned When I bone, I'm rubbered up in case that shit full blown The other night around 8 P.M. Pockets crazy slim, jumped out the gray BM Went to the ATM, took a thou' out Then later on I had to wild out In the club, knock some coward and his pal out Then afterwards went to the restroom, pissed Cristal out Now I'm thinkin - which chick number I could dial out Cause it's L, the Harlem pimp baby, for real I got more dimes than that Sprint lady And that's ill, playa haters be givin me harsh looks But I'm tryin to sell records like Garth Brooks So eff 'em all, when it's cold I throw the skelly on Illegal chips keep my celly on Mega-ice is what I'm heavy on If it ain't Cristal boo, I guess it's Perignon If the na-na's too tight, I throw some jelly on Yo try to tax and watch the nine mill burst I've been off the scene over three years And cats is still thirst - to hear Big L drop an ill verse So all you unsigned cats that want to battle; Get a deal first - I sport the bulletproof, fitted hat That attitude - you better get rid of that Wherever you floss is where you gon' get it at What? I stay strapped, I go to sleep with my steel Makin figures while you broke cats keepin it real L is rap's most livest cat I'm gettin stacks while you askin people, "Do you want fries with that?" I rob bags in the staircase, no mask, bare-faced The one police wouldn't dare chase Keep my gear laced - do I walk around without papes? No way pal Wword up - my money longer than the OJ trial Chorus: Miss Jones Harlem world keep holdin it down, for Big L Nigga long overdue - niggaz wanna know, Do you still got it got it? ("It's so amazin'!") Yeah yeah yeah. Harlem world keep holdin it down, for Big L Nigga long overdue - niggaz wanna know, Do you still got it got it? ("It's so amazin'!") (Stan Spit) Stan Spit, yo, uh Yo what the hell y'all can tell Spit? Not shit I did a flick and bounced on L's shit Well shit, expect me to go platinum That's the only reason why I'm rappin And since L passed, niggaz expect me to make it happen With no release date, I sell in each state I'm the type to drive to Philly, for a cheesesteak So what I'm a Harlem king, doin my thing My name ring - chains and dames what the fame bring After platinum it's the same thing And niggaz'll never learn Til I pull the steel and make they lover burn You don't get another turn, game's over Here's my flamethrower Rearrange your Rover, Harlem soldier Wait til I get older - and we won't stop I thought Mase told ya Nigga Stan he do what he gotta And these haters can't do me nada Be in Nevada, with a lot of enchilada Chorus (A.G.) Yo, yo move the fuck, A bring the heat, when I touch tracks These niggaz beef then wanna chill? Fuck that These rap niggaz with the mills, we deduct that I asked all my ghetto cats, where my love at Now where the brews, and the drugs at? Corrupt cats kept slug hats Asked the feds where the bugs at Puff with the dread, cause I puff black High, til I die, and you can trust that All I wanna know - is the club packed? I see the haters sweatin shorty, but I dug that She put my nutsac, back where her lungs at - little hoe And them niggaz who owe, give up that Huh, it's me and Corle', like Eddie and OT Go 'head and provoke me Heard you rap, wanna rhyme? Better be dope B Still "Diggin", still livin, still givin Y'all the ill written, still fuckin like Bill Clinton Chorus 2X (A.G.) Big L.