Lyrical Breakdown of Never Personal - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Never Personal" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how The Game weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Never Personal" 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 The Game 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 The Game's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Never Personal" not only celebrates The Game'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, when I'm out in Oakland, catch me in the silver and black Coupe With two Desert Eagles and an ounce of glue When I'm out in San Fran, the P.D. real nervous Cause they know I'm packin heat under the Willie Mays jersey Nigga, it ain't nuttin for me to empty a clip Or wave my guns in the air and just enter ya strip I know about gangs, had shootouts with plenty of Crips I sold crack and been out of town with plenty of bricks So ain't nuttin you can tell me, about the game Come with beef and leave here without your brains And I'ma drive upstate and try to bounce this 'caine In that Shelby the same color as moutanin rain And you know I got the South clickin Cause ain't nuttin like niggaz with gold teeth and them down South chickens So fuck with my D and get found wit'cha mouth missin This ain't about you and me it's about business nigga It's business never personal, real live on blocks If we ain't movin the rocks, then we movin the stocks Cross a hustler motherfucker you'll arrive in a box It's the true to life struggle 'til we arrive on top They don't understand me, like the Birdman I got candy Put the herb in, I got family I'm doin 85, in the 50-mile-an-hour lane Tryin to handle my business, the Figgaro stack change Independent tycoons (tycoons) - yeah My niggaz puff trees, snort coke and chew shrooms Bad to the bone (to the bone) And cain't trust a nigga for shit cause Feds on the phone My whole crew dirty, fuckin with amphetamines Catch you slippin blow your whole crew to smitharines Now the streets knowin (knowin) And I'ma run this shit back with my foot broke like Terrell Owens Still blowin Like Mike Jones of the Swishahouse, gold knock them bitches outs We take trips out to Houston and D.C. For the West coast, nigga can you feel me?