Lyrical Breakdown of Labels - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

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

This lyrical analysis of "Labels" not only celebrates GZA'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!

Lot of people, you know what I'm saying That be getting misinformed, thinking everything is everything You could just get yourself a little deal, whatever You know what I'm saying You gonna get on, you gonna get rich And all these labels be trying to lure us in like spiders Into the web, you know what I'm saying So sometimes people gotta come out and speak up And let people understand That you know you gotta read the label You gotta read the label If you don't read the Label you might get poisoned Bomb these niggas God! Tommy ain't my motherfuckin' boy When you fake moves on a nigga you employ We'll all emerge off your set, now you know God damn I show living large niggas how to flip a def jam And rough up the motherfuckin' house cause I smother You cold chillin' motherfuckers, I still warn a brother I'm ruthless my clan don't have to act wild That shit is jive, an old sleeping bag profile The soft comedian rap shit ain't the rough witty On the reel to reel it wasn't from a tough city Niggas be game, thinking that they lyrical surgeons They know they microphone's a virgin And if you ain't boned a mic you couldn't hurt a bee That's like going to Venus driving a mercury The capitol of this rugged slang is Wu-Tang Witty unpredictable talent and natural game I death row an mc with mic cables The epic is that I rush associated labels From east west to atco, I bring it to a next plateau But I keep it phat though, yo I'm hitting batters up with the wild pitch style I even show an Uptown MC a style Who thought he saw me on 4th & Broadway But I was out on the island, bombing MC's all day My priority is that I'm first priority I bone the secret out a bitch in a sorority So look out for A&M, the Abbot and the Master Breaking down your pendulum As I fiend MC's out with a blow that'll numb the a- -Ppendix, I'm holding more more weight than Colombia Index Interscope, we RCA, clan That's coming with a plan to free a Slave of a mental death MC don't panic Throw that A&R nigga off the boat in the Atlantic Now who's the bad boy character, not from Arista But firing weapons released on Geffen So duck as I struck with the soul of Motown My central broadcasting systems is low down And dirty, like that bastard It's getting drastic Read the label and say it loud Another Wu banger Thirty-six chambers, through your area (Yeah, the RZA, phat tracks on a disc) RZA razor RZA razor sharp (Another Wu-Tang production kid, coming at ya)