Lyrical Breakdown of Who Shot Ya - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Who Shot Ya" 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 "Who Shot Ya" 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 "Who Shot Ya" 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!
As we proceed (uh)
To give you what you need
'95, motherfuckers
Get live, motherfuckers
As we proceed
To give you what you need
'95, motherfuckers
Get live, motherfuckers
Now turn the mics up (as we proceed)
Turn that mic up, yeah
That beat is knockin', I need that mic up though (to give you what you need)
Turn that shit the fuck up (East Coast, motherfuckers)
Uh, what? (Bad Boy, motherfuckers)
Turn it up louder
Yeah, uh
As we proceed to give you
What you need
J.M., motherfuckers
J.M., motherfuckers (uh)
'95, motherfuckers (woo)
Uh
Who shot ya? (uh)
Separate the weak from the obsolete
Hard to creep them Brooklyn streets
It's on nigga, fuck all that bickering beef
I can hear sweat trickling down your cheek (woo)
Your heartbeat sound like Sasquatch feet
Thundering, shaking the concrete
Finish it, stop, when I foil the plot
Neighbors call the cops said they heard mad shots (uh)
Saw me in the drop, three and a quarter
Slaughter, electrical tape around your daughter
Old school, new school need to learn though
I burn, baby, burn like Disco Inferno (burn, baby, burn, what?)
Burn slow like blunts with yayo
Peel more skins than Idaho potato
Niggas know, the lyricla molestin' is takin' place
Fuckin' with B.I.G. it ain't safe (uh)
I make your skin chafe, rashes on the masses
Bumps and bruises, blunts and Land Cruisers
Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools (uh)
Niggas mad because I know that cash rules
Everything around me two Glock 9's
Any motherfucker whispering about mines (and I'm)
And I'm Crooklyn's finest (uh)
You rewind this, Bad Boy's behind this
As we proceed (what?)
To give you what you need
'95, motherfuckers (what? Uh)
Get live, motherfuckers
As we proceed (what? Uh)
To give you what you need
East Coast, motherfuckers
Bad Boy, motherfuckers
Get high, motherfuckers
Get high, motherfuckers (uh, uh)
Smoke blunts, motherfuckers (uh)
Get high, motherfuckers ('95, uh)
Ready to die, motherfuckers (uh)
'95, motherfuckers (uh)
I seen the light excite all the freaks (uh)
Stack mad chips, spread love with my peeps
Niggas wanna creep, got to watch my back
Think the Cognac and Indo sack make me slack?
I switches all that, cocksucker G's up (uh)
One false move, get Swiss cheesed up
Clip to TEC, respect, I demand it
Slip and break the 11th Commandment
Thou shalt not fuck with nor see Poppa
Feel a thousand deaths when I drop ya (uh)
I feel for you, like Chaka Khan I'm the don
Pussy when I want, Rolex on the arm
You'll die slow but calm
Recognize my face (uh), so there won't be no mistake
So you know where to tell Jake, lame nigga
Brave nigga, turned front page nigga
Puff Daddy flips daily (uh)
I smoke the blunts he sips on the Baileys
On the rocks, tote Glocks at christenings
Hammer cock, in the fire position and, what?
Get live, motherfuckers
Ready to Die, motherfuckers
Come here, come here (what?)
Open your fucking mouth, open your (it ain't gotta be like that B.I.G., oh)
Didn't I tell you don't fuck with me? Huh?
Didn't I tell you not to fuck with me? (as we proceed)
Huh? Look at you now (to give you what you need)
Huh?
Can't talk with a gun in your mouth huh? ('95, motherfuckers)
Bitch-ass nigga, what? (get live, motherfuckers)
(Get live, motherfuckers)
(Get live, motherfuckers)
Huh? (Cease-A-Lee)