Lyrical Breakdown of Miss America - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Miss America" on Lazyjot. Here, we unravel the lyrical complexity and artistic brilliance that define this iconic song.

Lyric Overview: Witness how J. Cole weaves words into powerful emotions and vivid imagery. From intricate rhyme schemes to compelling storytelling, every line in "Miss America" 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 J. Cole 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 J. Cole's narrative.

This lyrical analysis of "Miss America" not only celebrates J. Cole'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!

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"And so my fellow Americans

Ask not what your country can do for you

Ask what you can do for your country"

Excuse me

Load the clip in the chopper, flip the script and get Oscars

All my niggas is mobsters, all my bitches is doctors

Cole World, this just the tip of the iceberg

So talk shit and taste the tip of the Mossberg

Don't trip nigga, they just words

Though my words tend to sound like Proverbs

Niggas don't see the preachers 'til we dead in the hearse

Granny broke cause she always givin' bread to the Church

Now pastor Mason Betha in a Lambo

And little niggas holdin' desert eagles like they Rambo

Bumpin' my shit, always wondered why they fuck with my shit

I hope it's 'bout the knowledge, not about who's suckin' my dick

But oh well, I'm gon' sell like I had no bail

For my chain and my piece I should've won Nobel

Ill, boy you cold nigga, yeah I know nigga

Only young nigga do it better than the old niggas

Took chances, slow dance with the devil bitch

Overcomin' the circumstances we hella rich

Since you all in my business, this what I tell a bitch

If you ain't fuckin' me, don't fuck with me, this life on the edge

Green dollars splurged all on embellishments

My fellowship paid, don't need to cop my fellas shit

Scoopin' hoes in the party, some Cinderella shit

Smash for the hell of it, livin' life on the edge

Miss America, petty thoughts

Just to floss pay any and every cost

Heavy heart as I sit in this Range countin' thousands out

Am I about dollars or about change?

Am I about knowledge or about brains?

Freedom or big chains, they don't feel my pain

Blood on my sneakers, no remorse for the grievers

He played the corner like Revis he should've had better defense

That's how I'm feelin', blood spillin' I love killin'

Niggas'll swear that they it, this is as rare as it gets

Rap game changed, this is embarrassing shit

Bunch of bitches posin' on some old Miss America shit

I was a wilder nigga back on my therapist shit, moving careless as shit

In a city where niggas really don't care who they hit

Who the fuck was I?

Just a young little nigga tryin' to see the other side

Of the railroad tracks, where them scarecrows at

No brains on a nigga but they'll air your back

Fuck the man, Uncle Sam I won't sell your crack

I won't fight your wars, I won't wear your hat

I'ma pass your classes, I'mma learn your craft

I'ma fuck your daughters, I'mma burn your flag