Lyrical Breakdown of Big - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

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

This lyrical analysis of "Big" not only celebrates Juice Wrld'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!

Hmm, uh-huh (Hit-Boy) Bitch Man, this life shit gettin' crazy, crazy I done, I done made it I done made it, made it, yeah I'm sick and tired of these hatin' ass niggas, though Let my dick breathe for a couple seconds, man, shit Fuck nigga Uh, yeah I'm on a Percocet, yeah, I just had to relapse Even at my worst, I'm feeling like I am the best I done Metta Word Peace to myself like I'm Ron Artest I never been a referee but I still got a Tec, Kel-Tec Shoot you in your stomach make this shit hard to digest Rockstar, listening Jimi Hendrix in the projects, yeah I'ma turn a nigga block to an art project Picasso, I paint that, where the fuck is the bank at? Army sergeant, no rank, yeah, okay If you ain't payin' a hundred thousand get them features out my face 50K to install a codeine fountain in my new estate I got that pump, it's ironic how that pump made him pump his breaks I ain't Lil Pump but I got double glocks on me like Gucci Gang We ball like Wilt Chamberlain like the name of them old Gucci tapes Yeah, I'm talkin' 'bout Gucci Mane That lil' bitch like, "Burr," why she so insecure? Who got the pills in here? How do you live in here? I got my crib in here, havin' some kids, yeah I do it big, yeah, big, big, yeah I do it big, yeah, big, big, yeah (Let's go) She saw me in the club, how did you get in here? Fuck is you doin' here? Why is you shootin' here? Doin' it big, yeah, big, big, yeah Doin' it big, yeah, big, big, yeah Yeah, away, away, away, away, away You want bullshit, I hit you with that olé Told my shooter I gotta prove myself no lame Even when I stand up and hit it from the back I'ma still get laid Your bitch a dragon, she run up on me, she get slayed I took a piss in your dead homie grave, uh (Let's get it) Chicago shit, Chicago nigga Fuckin' on a Philadelphia bitch Yeah, I'm super rich, I could pay your rent Rollie doesn't tick Chopper with the tints Pull up with the tints, clip is extended Never gave a fuck, never gave a shit, only gettin' rich Limb by limb, forgive and forget Man, I don't forget shit You don't know when to stand You got it bad, man, come in, oh Oh, baby, come in Man, I don't forget shit Uh, yeah I'm on a Percocet, yeah, I just had to relapse Even at my worst, I'm feeling like I am the best I done Meta Word Peace to myself like I'm Ron Artest I never been a referee but I still got a Tec, Kel-Tec Shoot you in your stomach make this shit hard to digest Rockstar, listening Jimi Hendrix in the projects, yeah I'ma turn a nigga block to an art project Picasso, I paint that, where the fuck is the bank at? Army sergeant, no rank, yeah