Lyrical Breakdown of What Ya Want - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "What Ya Want" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Jay-Z weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "What Ya Want" 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 Jay-Z 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 Jay-Z's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "What Ya Want" not only celebrates Jay-Z'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!
The Notorious B.I.G.
Whatchu Want (Featuring Jay-Z)
Lyricist：Shawn C Carter, Osten S Harvey, Christopher Wallace
Throw your hands in the sky, nigga
I'm stickin' ice picks on the tip of ya dick
Give your testicles a swift kick, ain't that some shit?
Am I hard hard core, harder than a Plymouth
It ain't no myth, it's a nigga with the spliff
And a chrome four fifth pressed on ya back
So what you want, nigga? How you wanna act?
I hope civilized 'cause I love to see niggaz die
Brains all leakin' out on the street
And the pastor preachin', 'He was a good man'
Played the bad man when the burner was in his hand
Now he's singin' sad songs with Elvis
Three to the head, 'bout six cross the pelvis
Ya fuck with the high guy ya die
Yeah, the same motherfucker yellin', 'Look up in the sky'
I'm on some old neck shit, Suplex shit
Hardcore sex shit, and Tec shit
Whatchu want, nigga?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
Whatchu want, nigga?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
Whatchu want, nigga?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
Whatchu want, nigga?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
A repetitive loop, all I need to destroy a soloist or group
Huh, I put it to ya boy, hope you got the scoop
Biggie Smalls, the rap genius
I keep the glock by the penis, the cleanest cut
Fuck the sluts with the big humongous butts
Huh, I use a rubber, but
My style is gushy like the hooker's pussy
And it don't take a lot of back talk to push me
Into flamin' 'em like that little nigga Damien
Pop 19 to my motherfuckin' cranium
Game tight, gun totin' motherfucker
Niggaz in the grave thought Biggie was a sucker
I tricked 'em, I gave 'em work then I sticked 'em
I stripped 'em, 'cause niggaz don't want the friction
Told you before how I bring the drama
Slam Larry Johnson and his Grandmama
Whatchu want, nigga?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
Whatchu want, nigga?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
Whatchu want, nigga?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
Whatchu want, nigga?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
Lucky Lefty of the Commission, bow down
By now you fuckers know this is our crown
Two Uptown bullies, Brooklyn Biggie
Bedstuy Hov like Bedstuy Gold
Behold the flyest, it's the Commission
Bentley drivers, Louis Vuitton buyers
Jet fuel abusers, sippin' Patruise
Once upon a time in America's muse
You based on us, you fiction
Ya eight's don't bust, you a constant contradiction
Ladies please use contraception
Conception's at a all time high with sexin', use protection
You fuckers shoulda never been born, shoulda never got signed
How the fuck you got on?
How the fuck you got Shawn?
I'm too advanced, the Lance Armstrong of the dance
Rubberband man before T.I. was
King of New York like B.I. was
B.K. all day, it's in my blood
You wanna see my mask and gloves? What the fuck you want?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
Whatchu want, nigga?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
Whatchu want, nigga?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
Whatchu want, nigga?
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
(Whatchu want, nigga? Whatchu, whatchu want nigga?)
Two of the world's greatest
Brooklyn's Finest
The Commission lives on
B.I.G. Forever
The Biggie Duets
Let's go