Lyrical Breakdown of Gimme the Loot - 2005 Remaster - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Gimme the Loot - 2005 Remaster" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

Lyric Overview: Witness how The Notorious B.I.G. weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Gimme the Loot - 2005 Remaster" 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 Notorious B.I.G. 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 Notorious B.I.G.'s narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Gimme the Loot - 2005 Remaster" not only celebrates The Notorious B.I.G.'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!

Yeah Motherfuckers better know (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Lock your windows, close your doors Biggie Smalls Huh, yeah (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) My man Inf left a TEC and a 9 at my crib Turned himself in, he had to do a bid A one-to-three, he be home the end of '93 I'm ready to get this paper, G You with me? Motherfuckin' right, my pocket's looking kind of tight And I'm stressed, yo, Biggie, let me get the vest No need for that, just grab the fucking gat The first pocket that's fat, the TEC is to his back Word is bond, I'ma smoke him, yo, don't fake no moves (what?) Treat it like boxing, stick and move, stick and move Nigga, you ain't got to explain shit I've been robbin' motherfuckers since the slave ships With the same clip and the same four-five Two point-blank, a motherfucker's sure to die That's my word, nigga even try to bogart Have his mother singing, "It's so hard" Yes, love, love your fucking attitude Because the nigga play pussy That's the nigga that's getting screwed And bruised up from the pistol whippin' Webs on the neck from the necklace strippin' Then I'm dippin' up the block, and I'm robbin' bitches too Up the herring bones and bamboos I wouldn't give fuck if you're pr- Give me the baby rings and a Number One Mom pendant (huh) I'm slamming niggas like Shaquille, shit is real When it's time to eat a meal, I rob and steal 'Cause Mom Duke ain't giving me shit So for the bread and butter I leave niggas in the gutter Huh, word to Mother, I'm dangerous Crazier than a bag of fuckin' angel dust When I bust my gat, motherfuckers take dirt naps I'm all that and a dime sack, where the paper at? (When he's sticking you, I'm taking all your money) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine) Big up, big up, it's a stick-up, stick-up And I'm shooting niggas quick if you hiccup Don't let me fill my clip up in your back and headpiece The opposite of peace, sending Mom Duke a wreath You're talking to the robbery expert Step into your wake with your blood on my shirt Don't be a jerk and get smoked over being resistant 'Cause when I lick shots, the shits is persistent Huh, goodness gracious, the papers Where the cash at? Where the stash at? Nigga, pass that Before you get your grave dug from the main thug, 357 slug And my nigga Biggie got an itchy one grip (huh) One in the chamber, 32 in the clip Motherfuckers better strip Yeah, nigga, peel Before you find out how blue steel feel From the Beretta, puttin' all the holes in your sweater The money getter, motherfuckers know the pedi' Rolex watches, the colorful Swatches I'm digging in pockets, motherfuckers can't stop it Man, niggas, come through, I'm taking high school rings too Bitches get str- for they earrings and bangles And when I rock her and drop her, I'm taking her door knockers And if she's resistant, baka! Baka! Baka! So go get your man, bitch, he can get robbed too Tell him Biggie took it, what the fuck he gonna do? (Man) I hope apologetic or I'ma have to set it And if I said it, the cocksucker won't forget it (Hey, bitch, hey bitch) when he's sticking you I'm taking all your money (gimme your money, bitch) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (I'm a bad, bad, bad-) Gimme the loot, gimme the loot (What's mine is mine and what's yours is mine) Man, listen, all this walkin' is hurtin' my feet Ooh, money looks sweet (where at?) In the Isuzu Jeep Man, I throw him in the fiend, you grab the fucking C.R.E.A.M And if he start to scream, bam! Bam! Have a nice dream Hold up, he got a fucking bitch in the car Fur coats and diamonds, she thinks she a superstar Ooh, Biggie, let me jack her I kick her in the back, hit her with the gat Yo, chill, shorty, let me do that Just get the fucking car keys and cruise up the block The bitch act shocked, gettin' shot on the spot Oh, shit, the cops! Be cool, fool They ain't gonna roll up, all they want is fucking donuts So why the fuck he keep lookin'? I guess to get his life tooken I just came home, ain't tryin' to see Central Booking Oh, shit, now he lookin' at my face You better haul ass, 'cause I ain't with no fucking chase So lace up your boots, 'cause I'm about to shoot A true motherfucker going out for the loot (Take that, motherfuckers)