Lyrical Breakdown of Children of Men (Feat. Trae Tha Truth & Ink) - A Journey through Words and Rhymes

Welcome to the detailed analysis of "Children of Men (Feat. Trae Tha Truth & Ink)" 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 "Children of Men (Feat. Trae Tha Truth & Ink)" 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 "Children of Men (Feat. Trae Tha Truth & Ink)" 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!

Trae tha Truth Cole World Wonder what it's like, how a nigga kill a nigga on sight Did he hesitate? Think about his life, think about his kids, think about his wife? But that nigga heartless, group homes, nigga never had no fosters Cause who taking home the little black kid, poor thing, his momma is a crackhead So the state raised him, and the hate raised him They clowned on him at school but he fronted like it ain't phased him Shit, now it's about getting money cause these cool niggas think his shit is funny Gotta have clothes, gotta have dough, hoes ain't checking unless you got plenty, now a nigga selling dope Holding onto a little hope of a better life, huh, but that hope fades so quick Cause he getting paid so quick He be robbing niggas just to cop the shit the minimum wage won't get Young niggas trapped, young niggas strapped, heart turned black, won't turn back Oh, don't recall all the tears, all along Children of men, children of men Later days, dealing with mistakes On this corner tryna catch another break Fuck school, tell them he was coming late Block dry, hear they praying something shake Now everybody taking off his plate Bill him what, half of that he have it late His best friend by the yellow crates Suicide, tears tryna hesitate Only seventeen, damn, seventeen Nightmares, opposite of heaven's dream Bout to thaw, he ain't got the weather lean Black mans, cooking more than he's ever seen White books, he ain't talking education Fuck what he facing, the stripes are registration Losing his mind, won't lose his reputation Try him he busting without no hesitation Damn, young nigga attitude, like fuck it Still tryna make it out the bucket Light feather all time low still Tryna figure out how the fuck he finna duck it He gotta ride it out before he crash He on his hustle tryna get the cash Can't focus, shit's spinning fast Laws on him, hope he's got his work stashed Loud work, hope it don't smell Can't afford to take another L First class, no feeling Fuck school he about to fail It's all him, he ain't finna tell He on his own, he ain't finna bail Either way, he on his way to jail Shoulda chilled now he headed for a cell Oh, don't recall all the tears, all along Children of men, children of men Look, now we in the prison cell No commissary, no mail No phone calls, just time He gon' pay it, no mind On his way to parole hope it get it Middle finger to the warden hope he get it Niggas wanna take it there they know he make it Fresh shakes take him to the mic he hit it They gon' catch bitch he on his way Try to stop him and it's gonna be on today Solitary confinement every day "Fuck 'em all" only thing he know to say Now it's time up, he a free man Gates open, thinking of another plan Where he finna go, what he finna do Finna be a couple those, he coming through Then it's back to the hood "S" on his chest Fuck Super, that nigga stressed He going through hell like he never blessed Every day in pain, nothing less Pills in, zoned out, right plan, wrong route Opportunity present itself in the kitchen Guarantee he shows what he's 'bout Under pressure no slack Fuck jail he ain't going back Only way you leaving is a box And you can tell everyone that's a fact Had my back, on his pistol Black clouds, black rain To his head, where he aim Feel the same now the bullet in his brain Oh, don't recall all the tears, all along Children of men, children of men Oh, don't recall all the tears, all along Children of men, children of men