Lyrical Breakdown of Warning - 2005 Remaster - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Warning - 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 "Warning - 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 "Warning - 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!

Who the fuck is this? Paging me at 5:46 In the morning, crack of dawn, and Now I'm yawning, wipe the cold out my eye See who's this paging me and why? It's my nigga, Pop, from the barbershop Told me he was in the gambling spot and heard the intricate plot Of niggas wanna stick me like flypaper, neighbor Slow down love, please chill, drop the caper Remember them niggas from the hill up in Brownsville That you rolled dice with, smoked blunts and got nice with? Yeah, my nigga Fame up in Prospect Nah, them my niggas, nah love wouldn't disrespect I didn't say them, they schooled me to some niggas That you knew from back when, when you was clocking minor figures Now they heard you're blowing up like nitro And they wanna stick the knife through your windpipe slow So, thank Fame for warning me 'cause now I'm warning you I got the MAC, nigga tell me what you gonna do Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my paper Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my paper Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my paper Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my paper They heard about the Rolexes and the Lexus With the Texas license plates out of state They heard about the pounds you got down in Georgetown And they heard you got half of Virginia locked down They even heard about the crib you bought your moms out in Florida The Fifth Corridor Call the coroner! There's gonna be a lot of slow singing and flower bringing If my burglar alarm starts ringing What ya think all the guns is for? All-purpose war, got the Rottweilers by the door And I feed 'em gunpowder, so they can devour The criminals trying to drop my decimals Damn, niggas wanna stick me for my cream And it ain't a dream, things ain't always what it seem It's the ones that smoke blunts with ya, see your picture Now they wanna grab they guns and come and get ya Bet ya Biggie won't slip I got the Calico with the black talons loaded in the clip So I can rip through the ligaments Put the fuckers in a bad predicament, where all the foul niggas went Touch my cheddar, feel my Beretta Buck! What I'ma hit you with you motherfuckers better duck I bring pain, bloodstains on what remains Of his jacket, he had a gun, he shoulda packed it Cocked it, extra clips in my pocket So I can reload and explode on you rasshole I fuck around and get hardcore C-4 to your door, no beef no more nigga Feel the rough, scandalous The more weed smoke I puff, the more dangerous I don't give a fuck about you or your weak crew What you gonna do when Big Poppa comes for you? I'm not running, nigga I bust my gun, and Hold on, I hear somebody coming C'mon, motherfucker Man, I'm comin' as fast as I can Just g- bring your motherfuckin' ass on, come on Are we gettin' close, huh? It's right over here You sure it's Biggie Smalls crib, man? Yeah, I'm sure, motherfucker, come on Man, fuck, this better be his motherfuckin' house Fuck, right here Tsk, this better be this motherfucker's house Oh shit What? What's wrong? What's that red dot on your head, man? What red dot? Oh shit! You got a red dot on your head, too Oh shit!