Lyrical Breakdown of Why U Mad - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

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

This lyrical analysis of "Why U Mad" not only celebrates Redman'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!

Hey, Big Sev, these niggas mad, nigga Grind time, nigga (Oh, why you mad, son?) These niggas and chicks be walking around all mad and shit Why you mad, nigga? Ayo (you mad, nigga? Why you mad, nigga?) Let's go I wake up, wash the balls, and it's grind time While I'm here, I take it back like your hairline I came up from high and weed in my bond times Now I'm electric, the block know I shock a con High school chicks said, "Red will never make it" Now they old ass in my 'Gram getting naked Fuck you, I'm trying to Maximilian Catch me whipping a ride, I'm Uncle Willie's son Broke niggas stay yapping like they get the bag Plotting on your downfall with they snitching ass If his boys get him gas, then he gets mad Just know I keep the sticks like White Boy Rick Dad Boy, I love proving haters wrong Living my best life, I learned from Lil Duval (word up!) My money three feet tall, but I got respect And you rich and I'm not impressed Eat a duke- Ayo, put your hands up in the sky (c'mon) A lot of people mad and don't ask me why (c'mon) You say that you a boss, but your nose in mine Why you looking all mad? 'Cause you dying shrine And you mad, nigga, why you mad, bro? (Ayo) And you mad, nigga (why you mad, motherfucker?) (Let's go!) I'm Mr. Cream, and I'm a brick city bad boy Tongue out, middle finger to the tabloids I could give it to these niggas like they asked for it Then pull up like, "Fuck boy, what you mad for?" (Why you mad, nigga?) They poke the bear and I'm woke now With my 357 out of Oaktown I could turn your lobby city to a ghost town (let's go) Set up shop, then kill or shut the coast down (coast down) I'm something special, keep an eye on me Plus, I got a pack of mammals that'll ride for me And honestly, I hear them talking, it don't bother me (nah) I modestly turn this bitch into a robbery (let's go, Cream) It's Gilla House until my veins pop And where they test, they get left in the same spot Mr. Cream, get mad if you wanna I promise ain't no future if you fucking up my commas Ayo, put your hands up in the sky (c'mon) A lot of people mad and don't ask me why (c'mon) You say that you a boss but your nose in mine Why you looking all mad? 'Cause you're dying, trying And you mad, nigga, why you mad, bro? And you mad, nigga (why you mad, motherfucker?) (Let's go!) My nigga, get off your ass and get on your grind And stop crying about the same shit all the time (yeah) You whining, complaining ass niggas be the lamest (yeah) Your hugs and handshakes as fake as your chain is (hater) It's written all over your face A body shot at how you shitting all over the place Niggas turn super ugly when they see my squad They bitch ass get mad, wanna keep my car, it's Gilla We get it poppin' like two choppers Shoot like Tupac when he heard 'Who Shot Ya?' Step in the hood, better checkin' with us I'm the plug for the bud and the Mexican mud Now you all mad, Mr. Mean Mug, so gangsta (Ay, bruh, check out my mixtape) No, thank ya, I laugh at y'all little amateurs Stay with your day job, you motherfuckin' janitor Ayo, put your hands up in the sky (c'mon) A lot of people mad and don't ask me why (c'mon) You say that you a boss, but your nose in mine Why you looking all mad? 'Cause you're dying, trying And you mad, nigga, why you mad, bro? Ayo, and you mad, nigga (why you mad, motherfucker?) (Let's go!) 75 degrees on the East Coast 85 degrees on the West Coast 95 degrees in Miami, as we take y'all on the ride MW Too album But y'all know what it's time for Let's get to the story of Soopaman Luva