Lyrical Breakdown of Guess Who's Back - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

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

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

This lyrical analysis of "Guess Who's Back" not only celebrates Scarface'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!

Talk to me man This your boy Young Hova, you turn the motherfuckin' noise up We get right into the proceedings this evening Headphones are distortin', bring it down a lil' bit Okay, now we workin' with it The boy Face up in baseline, Face (Mob) Welcome to New York City, it's yo' boy Young Hov', yeah Kanye West on the track, Chi-Town, what's goin' on now? Can I talk to y'all for a minute? Lemme talk to y'all for a minute Just gimme a minute of your time baby, I don't want much Lemme talk to these motherfuckers Guess who's bizack? You still smellin' crack in my clothes Don't make me have to relapse on these hoes Take it back down to taxin' them roads When I was huggin' it, niggaz couldn't do nothin' with it Straight from the oven with it, came from the dirt I emerged from it all without a stain on my shirt You can blame my old earth, for the shit she instilled in me Still with me Pain plus work, shit she made me milk this game for all it's worth That's right, these niggaz can't fuck with me I'm callin' guts every time, drag my nuts every time Homey, we make a great combination, don't we? Me and the Face Mob, every time we face off Face it y'all, y'all niggaz playin' basic ball I'm on the block like I'm eight feet tall Homey, I'm in the drop with the AC on That's why the streets embrace me dawg, I'm so cool Guess who's bizack? Back on the block with the old Face Mob Mack Mittens and Hov' Don't make me relapse Back to the block with the fo' 'Cause this street shit is all I know From the womb to the tomb, a hot pot of joy and a spoon Tryna make me forty thousand and move Motels, star-studded, rock stars and goons Plain clothes wanna run in my room But nigga guess who's bizack? It's your boy Face Mob Started with an eight ball, gotta get this cake dawg Give niggaz a break, nah, you know how the game go Fuck you think I slang fo', to go against the grain? (Nope) I'm out here to grind mo', wrapped up in the paper chase I wanna fuck a fine hoe and candy paint the 88 Don't got no wholesale, 'cause that ain't how I wanna run it Here take these five stones and bring a nigga back a hundred Gotta see my feet dude, you do shit a fiend do The fire get too hot in the kitchen, I hit the streets fool Money is an issue and that's on the fa' shizzle my nizzle Ya block warm, then I come by with the fizzle And make for sho' I get to work mines, for part of the time We go to war and you ain't makin' a dime 'Cause I got shit to lose, a nigga out here payin' his dues My baby walkin', gotta get him some shoes It's a new game doin', lemme give you the rules Get outta line and I'ma give you the blues It's a new game doin', lemme give you the rules Get outta line and I'ma give you the blues Guess who's bizack? The boy B Mizack, A.K.A, Mr. Crack-A-Brick Turn a whole one from a half a brick, look I mastered this You can smell it once the plastic rips A hot plate will make you swell up if your gasket clicked You can make your chips swell up, you don't hafta pitch Play them corners like a safety, watch the traffic switch Youngun never pump fake and you'll get past the blitz And keep your whole hood on flip like on box-spring Pissy Mack and shit, low old box of things Strictly glassy shit, I hug the block like a quart of water Shit I used to hug a corner like a old deuce and a quarter 'Til like deuce in the mornin', with the old heads Slingin' loose quarters, this Philly cat back gatted Still fuckin' with them crack addicts Still bustin' with that black-matic Guess who's bizack? Back on the block with the old Face Mob Mack Mittens and Hov' Don't make me relapse Back to the block with the fo' 'Cause this street shit is all I know