Lyrical Breakdown of The Notorious B.I.G. & Method Man / The What - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "The Notorious B.I.G. & Method Man / The What" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

• Lyric Overview: Witness how Wu-Tang Clan weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "The Notorious B.I.G. & Method Man / The What" 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 Wu-Tang Clan 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 Wu-Tang Clan's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "The Notorious B.I.G. & Method Man / The What" not only celebrates Wu-Tang Clan'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!

I used to get feels on a bitch Now I throw shields on the dick To stop me from that HIV shit And niggaz know they soft like a Twinkie filling Playing the villain, prepare for this rap killing Biggie Smalls is the illest Your style is played out, like Arnold wondered "What you talking 'bout Willis?" The thrill is gone, the black Frank White Is here to excite and throw dick to dykes Bitches, I like 'em brainless Guns, I like 'em stainless steel I want the fuckin' Fortune like the Wheel I squeeze gats 'til my clips is empty Don't tempt me (T H O D Man) You don't want to fuck with Biggie Here I am, I'll be damned if this ain't some shit Come to spread the butter lyrics over hominy grit It's the low killer death trap, yes, I'm a jet black ninja Coming where you rest at, surrender Step inside the ring, you'se the number one contender Looking cold booty like your pussy in December Nigga stop bitching, button up ya lip and From Method, all you getting is a can of ass whipping Hey, I'll be kicking you son, you doing all the yapping Acting as if it can't happen You front and got me mad enough to touch something Yo, I'm from Shaolin Island and ain't afraid to bust something So what cha want, nigga? Ya punk, nigga I got a six-shooter and a horse named Trigger It's real, ninety-four, rugged raw Kicking down your goddamn door (And it goes a lil' something like this) Fuck the world, don't ask me for shit And everything you get, ya gotta work hard for it Honies, shake your hips, ya don't stop And niggaz pack the clips, keep on two, coming with that Olde E brew Meth Tical, putting niggaz back in I.C.U. I'm lifted, troop, you can bring yours wack ass crew I got connections, I'll get that ass stuck like glue No question, I be coming down and shit Yo, I gets rugged as a motherfucking carpet get And niggaz love it, not in the physical form but in the mental I spark and they cells get warm, I'm not a gentle, man I'm a Method Man Baby, accept it, utmost respect it (Assume the position) Stop, look and listen I spit on your grave, then I grab my Charles Dickens Welcome to my center Honies feel it deep in they placenta Cold as the pole in the winter Far from the inventor but I got this rap shit sewed And when my Mac unloads I'm guaranteed another video Ready to die, why I act that way? Pop duke left Mom duke The fagot took the back way So instead of making hoes suck my dick up I used to do stick-up 'Cause hoes is irritating like the hiccups Excuse me, flows just grow through me Like trees to branches, cliffs to avalanches It's the Praying Mantis Deep like the mind of Farrakhan A motherfucking rap phenomenon Plus (I got more glocks and techs than you) I make it hot (Nigga, won't even stand next to you) Nigga, touch me, you better bust me Three times in the head Or motherfucker's dead, ya thought so Fuck the world, don't ask me for shit And everything you get, ya gotta work hard for it Honies, shake your hips, ya don't stop And niggaz pack the clips, keep on Fuck the world, don't ask me for shit And everything you get, ya gotta work hard for it Honies, shake your hips, ya don't stop And niggaz pack the clips, keep on