Lyrical Breakdown of Kick in the Door - 2005 Remaster - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Kick in the Door - 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 "Kick in the Door - 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 "Kick in the Door - 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!

Biggie Uh; uh-uh Uh This goes out to you This goes out to you, and you, and you, and you (Biggie) This goes out to you This goes out to you, and you, and you, and you (Biggie) Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns As I crush so-called willies, thugs, and rapper-dons Get in that ass, quick fast, like ramadan Its that rap phenomenon don-dadda, fuck poppa You got ta, call me, francis m.h. white In tank-light totes, tote iron Was told in shootouts, stay low, and keep firin Keep extra clips for extra shit Who's next to flip, on that cat with that grip on rap The mo shady, tell em!, Frankie baby Ain't no tellin where I may be May see me in d.c. at howard homecomin With my man capone, dumbin, fuckin somethin You should know my steelo Went from ten g's for blow to thirty g's a show To orgies with hoes I never seen before So, jesus, get off the notorious Penis, before I squeeze and bust If the beef between us, we can settle it With the chrome and metal shit I make it hot, like a kettle get You're delicate, you better get, who sent ya? You still pedal shit, I got more rides than great adventure Biggie, how are you gonna do it? Do it Kick in the door, wavin the four-four All you heard was poppa don't hit me no more Kick in the door, wavin the four-four All you heard was poppa don't hit me no more Kick in the door, wavin the four-four All you heard was poppa don't hit me no more Kick in the door, wavin the four-four On ya mark, get set, when I spark, ya wet Look how dark it get, when ya marked with death Should I start your breath should I let you die In fear you start to cry, ask why Lyrically, I'm worser, don't front the word sick You cursed it, but rehearsed it I drop unexpectedly like bird shit You herbs get, stuck quickly for royalties and show money Don't forget the publishin, I punish em, I'm done with them Son, I'm surprised you run with them I think they got cum in them, cause they, nothin but dicks Tryin to blow up like nitro and dynamite sticks Mad I smoke hydro rock diamonds, that's sick Got pay off my flow, rhyme with my own click Take trips to cairo, layin with yo bitch I know you prayin you was rich, fuckin prick When I see ya I'ma This goes out for those that choose to use Disrespectful views on the king of NY Fuck that, why try, throw bleach in your eye Now ya braille in it, stash that light shit, or scalin it Conscience of ya nonsense in eighty-eight Sold more powder than johnson and johnson Tote steel like bronson, vigilante You wanna get on son, you need to ask me Ain't no other king in this rap thing They siblings, nothing but my chil'ren One shot, they disappearin Its ill when, MC's used to be on cruddy shit Took home, ready to die, listened, studied shit Now they on some money shit, successful out the blue They light weight, fragilly, my nine milly Make the white shake, thats why my money never funny And you still recoupin, stupid (stupid, stupid, stupid)