Lyrical Breakdown of NWA - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "NWA" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Gucci Mane weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "NWA" 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 Gucci Mane 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 Gucci Mane's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "NWA" not only celebrates Gucci Mane'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!
Baby keep me on my P's
Let's break down a hundred P's
Gucci gas go thirty-three
But gotta get thirty P
I don't even need a reason to
Hit you with the heat
These shoes don't come out this season
But still they on my feet
Old folk keep calling us heathens
Too many drugs on the street
I'm servin' right there by Four Seasons
Niggas from the pen won't weep
Peewee got the bricks and the bales
Listen up to the story I tell
The bricks, they came from the mail
My plug, his name is Miguel
I'm in the kitchen, counting up Benjis
Your bitch washing dishes and
Wrappin' up fishes
Used to run from the cops on the block
Hit for a hot box, took it to the chop shop
If I fuck with you
I'm making you straight drop
If I don't know you, I'ma give you rerock
Got a bando in Boston
The way I pitch them eight balls
Shoulda played for the Red Sox
Just took a loss, 'bout to take somethin' off
Put it to her head
Make her open up the vault
Say you got birds hid all in the loft
Soon as you turn the key, boy
You 'bout to get off
Bought a brand new AP but I'm always late
Every day my birthday
Now watch me bake a cake
I finesse the plug for the drugs
Even though a nigga always show love
If he ain't Migo, he ain't MPA
Brick Squad, nigga, you ain't my blood
Tryna hit my blunt, tryna sip my drank
What the fuck you think?
Ain't shit soft around my way
Unless you talkin' 'bout cocaine