Lyrical Breakdown of Nobody's Smiling - A Journey through Words and Rhymes
Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Nobody's Smiling" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.
- Lyric Overview: Witness how Common weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Nobody's Smiling" 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 Common 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 Common's narrative.
This lyrical analysis of "Nobody's Smiling" not only celebrates Common'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!
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
I'm from Chicago, nobody's smilin'
Niggas wildin' on Stony Island
Where the chief and the president come from
Pop out, pop pills, pop guns
On the deck where the opps come
Pop some, opps run
This ain't a game, nigga, ain't no options
Niggas sellin' on the block like an auction
Dig into my pockets, see a profit
Where the money and the bitches is where the Gods is
Godfathers in the lodges
At the spot holdin' money like a hostage
She wearin' ostrich, from the projects with posture
I draw with the goddess like an artist
Gettin' paper with no margins
Money gods, I do it for Hadiya and Trayvon Martin, yo
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
In the Chi ain't a damn thing funny
Thinkin' of ways to get money
Drive down Lake Shore schemin' how to make more
If we ain't eatin' together, what is this cake for?
Ain't nobody givin' it, that's what we take for
Niggas is broke, what I need a break for?
Glaciers of ice, lasers and lights
Let the chains glow heavy, we paid for 'em twice
Made for the life, ball out like we out of bounds
Bars and guns, niggas got a lot of rounds
Trippin' like you from out of town
The four-pound'll leave you on the ground without a sound
Ain't no fathers 'round, sons of anarchy
Fightin' attempts, traffickin', and grand larceny
At the party with the thots with the extra body
I'm in the inner city, it's an outer body experience
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Don't stop, with the next drop
Hand on the pot, now they all hit it
Face on T-shirts with no hashtags
Just big ass trash bags tagged hash
Out here, shit been trill
Fake ass gangsta quick to take a fag's cash
Five versus six, Star Wars
No stickers, real bullet holes in car doors
Out of ten people that was shot, seven ate nines
Two trey eights and one four five
Tryna get to two threes, a numbers game
Then here come the fame, but they won't say no names
Are these celebrities way too shy to be loyal to the town?
I take my publishing check and spread my royalties around
Popes, bishops, disciples, stones
Counts, princes, lords, queens, and kings
They drillin' on my land, but ain't no oil to be found
I might be part of the problem
I guess they just tryna prove they can back that shit up
Most of 'em can't even moonwalk
My lil' cousin Bump J don't know what he did
When he introduced that goon talk
Is there a Scarface casting at the crib I don't know about?
So many shorties that tried out for the role
That's why he slide out and ride out with the pole
Now I see how my daddy felt
The dark day he discovered that black power didn't keep the lights on
Right on, the dearly departed still rappin' to you
Lookin' for some yellow, white, red, black, brown flesh to write on
How long will they mourn me after I'm out of mind, out of sight, gone?
Crash, a head-on collision affects both riders the most
G.O.O.D. Music in the building
Yeah, we got ghostwriters, they just actually ghosts