Lyrical Breakdown of Shootouts - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

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

This lyrical analysis of "Shootouts" not only celebrates Nas'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!

Yo, release what's in me Besides the Henny, it's eyes that's seen plenty Fiends get skinny as if Queens was a Craig Jenny Instead of diet plans, it's crack, 200 grams I pump a G-pack, peepin' for where the D's at It's slow, lookin' for Rambo The cop who got grazed back in the days Chasin' niggas through my project maze That cop — he got a death wish He run behind niggas until you breathless Everyday, he makin' ten arrests, shit! My nigga, check this, I know the bitch he rest with I even blessed it, forty-dash-ten, inspect it (Already checked it, dunn, near his ankle you could see his gun) Peep, he parked his Jeep in the back of the slum To check Tanisha, fat ass, real fly with the blonde caesar Vittadini summer gear, she push the two-seater I heard she brag about the way he eat her A Irish man, short, slim with a tan, they say he laced her cheeba She due, be lookin' weaker, now her teeth are foul Speakin' loud, peep her style, in and out of every reefer cloud Fat ass dissolvin', like cotton candy in a mouth that's starvin' Rock the same gear daily, like a soldier in my squadron I heard she let Jake investigate from her window 'Cause she's a nympho, suckin' dick and coughin' up info So now it's set up, her and the beast to get wet up I know he's vest up, we blazin' from the neck up (Yo, let me knock first) Soon as he open, let your Glock burst They had the chains on, son, hit the lock first We busted in, the cop jerked, Jungle popped one in his shirt I grabbed the bitch by her tits, she tried to say she Earth We saw the cameras, tape recorders and the monitors They eyein' us, (Nas, yo, he survived one from the fo'-five) Pull his shades down, they seen his last days now There's no way now, we can be treated just like a slave now Two in the dome, he's laid down A-yo, the bitch is saved now She's livin' in a snitch grave now Shootouts is similar to Wild West Broad daylight, face-to-face without a vest You know the episodes, thugs camouflage the spectacles Please God, just save the life that the Devil sold See, It Was Written, but was never told Peep the jewels, black man, it's even better than gold Niggas roll with iron Police roll in hot pursuit, tryin' to stop the loot Fuck Jake, cock and shoot Still on the streets with my peeps so deep We threw a block party for my man goin' up creek To do his two-to-four, niggas show love from all around the board Peace, Lord, Sony Handy-Cam on record Pop a bottle, 'cause when you come home, we still got it sewn We can watch the tape, play back and just zone Film all the bitches, on the benches with ill extensions We block the streets off, only crew cars can enter Music was loud and it was crowded Barbecued wings, we fed the fiends (Gamble in the back!) Killa shouted And Frank tried to stop the bank, lost about what a Roley cost Guzzled his drink, and staggered off He's a Big Will, used to slang krill, now he own The Hill Couldn't take losin' his cash, and I could feel Something in the air, yeah Frank returned with Pierre A gunslinger, who niggas hadn't seen in a year I usually be holdin', 'specially this type of weekend And everyone except for me had started reachin' They had gats in each others faces With kids and grandmothers around Frank's only concern was his papers My man Killa let off, half of them fake niggas jet off Police blitz quick, waitin' for that to set off Runnin' the static, it got me mad 'cause they a bunch of faggots Startin' shit in my hood, I can't have it Yo, High, get the 40-Cali stainless Jake is still out, let's make it real and still make 'em niggas famous Dip behind trees in fatigues and squeeze, dodge and weave Hearin' Jake retaliatin', and Wiz was up the alley waitin' We breeze, jump in the ride, heard Pierre died Internal bleedin' inside, and ain't been back since '95 Shootouts is similar to Wild West Broad daylight, face-to-face without a vest You know the episodes, thugs camouflage the spectacles Please God, just save the life that the Devil sold See, It Was Written, but was never told Peep the jewels, black man, it's even better than gold Niggas roll with iron Police roll in hot pursuit tryin' to stop the loot Nigga, fuck Jake, cock and shoot