Wait For It Lyrics – Hamilton

Song Overview

Song Credits

• Producers: Bill Sherman, ?uestlove, Black Thought, Alex Lacamoire & Lin-Manuel Miranda
• Writer: Lin-Manuel Miranda
• Mastering Engineer: Tom Coyne
• Publisher: PECF, New World Music, Warner Music Group, Warner/Chappell & 5000 Broadway Music
• Drum Programmer: Randy Cohen
• Violin: Mario Gotoh & Erin Benim
• Viola: Mario Gotoh
• Synthesizer: Randy Cohen
• Programmer: Scott Wasserman
• Percussion: Benny Reiner
• Mixing Engineer: Tim Latham
• Harp: Laura Sherman
• Guitar: Robin Macatangay
• Drums: Andres Forero
• Cello: Anja Wood
• Bass: Richard Hammond
• Banjo: Robin Macatangay
• Keyboards: Richard Hammond, Kurt Crowley, Benny Reiner & Alex Lacamoire
• Vocals: Original Broadway Cast of Hamilton & Leslie Odom Jr.
• Orchestration: Alex Lacamoire
• Conductor: Alex Lacamoire
• Recorded At: Avatar Studios
• Released on: September 25, 2015

Song Meaning and Annotations

“Wait For It” is Aaron Burr’s anthem of contradiction, control, and quiet fury, presented with the sheen of soul and the rhythm of modern pop-reggae fusion. It unfolds as a personal philosophy sermon wrapped in Broadway gloss, delivered by Leslie Odom Jr. with velvet fire. The musical number gives Burr — often sidelined as a reactionary — a moment of lyrical sovereignty, where his ethos of calculated patience finally sings louder than Hamilton’s frenzied ambition.

Lin-Manuel Miranda, the writer of Hamilton, uses this song to explore Burr's motivations. Unlike Hamilton, who "takes and takes," Burr is willing to "wait for it." This isn't just about romantic love; it's a philosophy. Burr's patience is born from a life of loss – the death of his parents, his love for Theodosia who is married to another. These experiences have taught him to be cautious, to play the long game.

The lyrics weave personal history with broader themes. Burr reflects on his upbringing: "My grandfather was a fire and brimstone preacher... My mother was a genius, my father commanded respect." Yet, their deaths left him with "no instructions, just a legacy to protect." This legacy is both a burden and a motivation. He must forge his own path, carefully, deliberately.

The recurring line, "Death doesn't discriminate," underscores the fragility of life, a theme that resonates throughout Hamilton. It's a stark reminder of what's at stake and why Burr chooses his path. The song builds to a powerful assertion: "I am the one thing in life I can control." In a world of chaos and uncertainty, Burr clings to his agency, his ability to choose when and how to act.

“Wait For It” opens like a quiet thunder, drawing a stark, aching contrast between Hamilton and Burr—once again. But this time, it’s through the intimacy of letters, those daily drops of devotion sent to the women they loved.

Theodosia Bartow Prevost—Burr’s future wife—was still married to Jacques Marcus Prevost, stationed far from her in Jamaica. She had five children scattered across the colonies, and she, never quite well, stayed at her family estate, *The Hermitage*. Burr? He visited often. *Too often.*

They met in 1778, right after the Battle of Monmouth, and by early 1779, Burr had resigned his commission and was devoting himself more fully, to law, and her. Theodosia was ten years his senior, but their affection was unmistakable. They wrote constantly on everything from children’s education to the role of women. They even played Cramp, a proto-rap poetry game. Theirs was a connection electric with words.

“My attention to you was ever pointed enough to attract the observation of those who visited the house…”

And Burr was, well, intense.

“In return, I demand one half of an hour every day from you; more I forbid…”

*He was charming, sure—but kind of extra.*

The chorus of this song? A thesis. Burr speaks of life, death, love—and Hamilton. He names them all as wild, uncontrollable tides. And in a stroke of emotional vulnerability, aligns Hamilton with those tides. It’s love, it’s war, it’s history. And Burr is always just outside the eye of the storm.

“But he took my shoulders and he shook my face / And he takes and he takes and he takes…”

Others hear echoes of Bad Meets Evil, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony, even Avril Lavigne. The rhythm the repetition are visceral, universal. Everyone’s been taken from. Everyone’s waited.

And then Burr says it: “I’m willing to wait for it.” Not going to wait. Willing. Submissive. Calm. Resigned, maybe. *Hopeful.*

This line—his mantra—mirrors Hamilton’s “Just you wait.” Hamilton, charging forward. Burr, rooted. Hamilton writes endlessly; Burr writes little. But Burr? Burr watches.

His catchphrase gets its full echo in Act II’s “Room Where It Happens.” And by then, Burr’s not just waiting—he’s burning. He wants in.

But his foundation? That’s gospel. Jonathan Edwards, colonial preacher of fire and brimstone, was his grandfather. Burr was meant for the pulpit, but chose the courts instead. Still, that gospel fire—its discipline, its reverence—burns under his voice.

*Leslie Odom Jr. came up singing in church. You feel it.*

Burr’s mother Esther? A diarist. A writer. A thinker. Her legacy: preserved in words. His father? First major president of Princeton. Their deaths—swift, sequential, cruel—left young Burr with legacy but no memory. Hamilton had nothing to lose. Burr had everything to protect.

So while Hamilton threw himself into history, Burr kept himself back, preserved. Controlled. Calculated.

“I am not standing still / I am lying in wait.”

This is the line that cuts deepest. Legal, even lethal. A phrase synonymous with premeditated murder. *He’s waiting, yes. But he’s ready to strike.*

It’s not just about Theodosia. It’s about ambition, withheld. Desire, delayed. Power, *restrained.*

Hamilton climbs. Burr circles. Hamilton takes risks. Burr takes notes.

Their philosophies fracture again and again. Burr believes in waiting for the right moment. But later? He tries Hamilton’s style, takes his shot, and fails.

“I’m chasing what I want… I learned that from you.”

The melodies from “Burn” and “Satisfied” haunt this song. All three—Angelica, Eliza, Burr—watch Hamilton slip through their fingers. They long. They wait. They ache.

Even Burr’s crescendo in “Life” is a sonic scream. *Love dies. People leave. Hamiltons rise.*

His refrain, “Wait for it,” gets stretched, delayed, and suspended just before the final chorus. A musical cliffhanger. *Even the audience must wait.*

And in that moment, Burr becomes mythic. The ocean crashes. Time bends. Legacy trembles.

He is, as he says, “the one thing in life I can control.”

“I am the one thing in life I can control.”

This line, both declaration and confession, encapsulates Burr’s entire worldview. In a storm of political chaos, personal loss, and societal upheaval, Burr finds solace in restraint. He's the measured heartbeat to Hamilton’s drumline of revolution. Through a hypnotic repetition of "Wait for it", the song paints waiting not as cowardice but as a strategic virtue — a chess game move rather than a game of dice.

Creation & Context

Lin-Manuel Miranda’s writing here is meticulous. The cadence mimics spoken-word poetry while sneaking in harmonic layers typical of R&B ballads. You’ll hear dancehall echoes in the beat — a sly nod to Caribbean diaspora — and gospel undertones in the chorus. That genre-blending isn't accidental. It mirrors Burr’s duality: inside him burns passion, but outside — stillness.

“Love doesn’t discriminate / Between the sinners and the saints”

This refrain, revisited in various shades throughout the song, juxtaposes fate and fairness. Burr reflects on his affair with Theodosia — scandalous, heartfelt, quietly defiant. And more broadly, he muses on mortality and legacy. It’s not just romantic vulnerability but existential questioning. What determines who survives, who thrives? Burr doesn’t know. But he waits. Willingly.

“Hamilton doesn't hesitate / He exhibits no restraint / He takes and he takes and he takes”

In one of the most revealing turns, Burr contrasts himself with Hamilton. Jealous? Maybe. Introspective? Deeply. Miranda inserts a modern ache here: watching peers skyrocket while you stall, even when you're doing everything 'right.' It's that familiar paralysis when you're told patience is a virtue, but results keep rewarding audacity.

Odom’s calm, deliberate performance feels less like theater, more like therapy. The chairs on stage, the ensemble watching Burr, underscore the metaphor: he’s in stillness, but not stuck. The world spins, and he endures.

Similar Songs

1. “Dear Theodosia” – Leslie Odom Jr. & Lin-Manuel Miranda
   Another deeply introspective moment in Hamilton, “Dear Theodosia” is the emotional sibling of “Wait For It.” Both tracks strip back theatricality in favor of raw vulnerability. While “Wait For It” leans into Burr’s philosophy, “Dear Theodosia” shows Burr and Hamilton finding common ground as fathers. The melodies are gentler, and the stakes are more personal. They share a softness — a lullaby quality — that temporarily pauses the revolution outside.
2. “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story” – Original Broadway Cast
   This finale mirrors “Wait For It” thematically: legacy, timing, mortality. Where “Wait For It” questions fate, the finale addresses it. They both sit at the edge of eternity, asking: what remains when we’re gone? Both use ensemble layering and repetition as sonic architecture, building their case with each musical brick.
3. “The Room Where It Happens” – Leslie Odom Jr.
   If “Wait For It” is Burr’s internal monologue, “The Room Where It Happens” is his external awakening. They form a lyrical arc — from passive patience to active pursuit. The rhythmic patterns become tighter, more urgent. The arrangement moves from contemplative to theatrical jazz explosion. And just like that, Burr steps from shadow to spotlight.

Questions and Answers

What does “Wait For It” reveal about Aaron Burr’s character?

It portrays Burr as introspective, strategic, and emotionally complex. He’s not simply jealous of Hamilton — he’s wrestling with a worldview where patience is both his compass and his cage.

Why is “Wait For It” often cited as one of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s best compositions?

The songwriting fuses intricate emotional layers with melodic clarity. It’s poetic but accessible, philosophical yet grounded in real feelings of love, loss, and ambition.

How does the song use musical structure to reinforce its themes?

The use of repetition, gradual build-up, and rhythmic stability mirrors Burr’s internal resolve. The dancehall rhythm keeps the listener subtly swaying — waiting — echoing the title’s motif.

What historical context enhances the song’s meaning?

Burr’s romance with Theodosia, his grief from parental loss, and his rivalry with Hamilton give personal context to the existential questions posed. It’s rooted in real 18th-century stakes — political and personal.

How does Leslie Odom Jr.’s performance shape the song?

His delivery is smooth yet weighty, lending a sense of quiet authority. Odom’s restraint mirrors Burr’s — every note is calculated, every pause intentional. He doesn’t just sing it; he lives it.

Fan and Media Reactions

“Leslie Odom Jr. literally melts the stage with this one. Every time I hear this, I stop everything. Goosebumps.” — @tonyfloorshow

“Never related so hard to a fictional Founding Father. This is about job applications, crushes, and existential dread.” — @hamfan93

“Burr is the ultimate introvert anthem. He’s not lazy, he’s methodical. And this song gets that so right.” — @quietlikeabomb

“The best part of Hamilton. The build-up, the vocals, the choreography — perfection.” — @historybabe

“Lin-Manuel gave Burr all the best songs and I’m not mad about it.” — @burrforpresident

Song Structure and Musical Architecture

Wait For It unfolds in a refined AABA form—clean, deliberate, and emotionally loaded. It’s in D? Major, but its soul clings to the mediant (F), holding tension in the air like a breath you don’t quite release. It floats. It waits.

Three emotional movements anchor the piece: a tender confession (Theodosia), a stoic philosophy (fate and loss), and a shift in lens (Burr vs. Hamilton). Each brings a different vocal mood—from hushed soliloquy to gospel fire. The music mirrors the man: restrained, precise, yearning.

The repetition of “Wait for it” isn’t just lyrical—it’s in the bones. Phrases stall, harmonies stretch. Miranda bakes hesitation right into the rhythm. Even silence becomes a statement.

Musical Elements and Genre Fusion

The arrangement is spare yet charged: piano, strings, heartbeat bass, guitar, and brush-light drums. Caribbean undercurrents ripple beneath. The body wants to sway, but the mind stays still.

Leslie Odom Jr. brings gospel heat rooted in his church background. His voice rises with prayer-like clarity during crescendos. The groove is dancehall adjacent—creating a tension between motion and stillness. Burr’s struggle, rendered sonically.

Visual Elements and Staging Analysis

Minimalist staging defines the number. Burr is alone, center stage. Around him, seated ensemble members become his thoughts—near, observing, silent. He’s surrounded, but solitary.

The famous turntable halts. Stillness rules. Every movement is calculated. The lighting grows with Burr’s rising thoughts, shifting from isolated spotlight to fuller illumination. Still water, deep currents.

Cover Versions and Reinterpretations

Usher’s version on The Hamilton Mixtape reframes the song in smooth R&B. He leans into the intimacy of waiting, trimming away ensemble layers for raw vulnerability. The synths and programmed beats modernize the ache. It’s Burr, but make it slow jam.

Other interpretations shift genre lens: acoustic takes pull out its folk bones; jazz versions tease out harmonic complexity. The core—patience, longing—remains untouched.

Impact on Hamilton's Narrative Arc

This is Burr’s emotional reveal. “Wait For It” humanizes him, drawing a quiet line between his restraint and Hamilton’s urgency. It’s his charm song—his way in.

By Act II’s “The Room Where It Happens,” Burr flips. That patience mutates into hunger. This number plants the seed. His line threads through “Satisfied” and “Burn”—each a vantage point watching Hamilton move.

Literary Devices and Wordplay

“Lying in wait” speaks volumes—patient, yes, but predatory too. It shadows the duel to come. The phrase “take and take and take” lands like a heartbeat, exploring what ambition costs.

Structurally, it’s rhetorical: thesis, antithesis, synthesis. Biblical imagery shadows Burr’s moral weight, drawn from sermons long etched into his legacy. The burden of belief.

Musical Motifs and Leitmotifs

The titular phrase becomes Burr’s sonic fingerprint. It resurfaces in later songs—altered, reframed, matured. The same harmonic textures sneak into “The Room Where It Happens.”

Hamilton’s score speaks to itself. Themes echo across time, deepening with every repetition. Burr’s song lingers long after it ends—much like the man himself.