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Writers Block (feat. Eminem) [Remix]

Yeah, yeah

I don't know what else to say

I can't, I can't think of nothin'

I'm stumpedHere we go

On your feet

Stand up

Everybody hands upUh, man, I dunno, man

Every time I go to think of something played out to say

You already said it, RoyceI ain't calling names 'cause all of y'all the same, plus

I'm the king, all my past pain all done changed up

All these plains, all these lames since the Slaughter's came up

'Cause they know they hands tied, feet ball and chained upNiggas be quick to call me the new 50 Cent

Because of my relationship

With Marshall, used to make me a little partialBut here's the brain fuck

We the same 'cause I'm probably about to fall out

With a Young Buck

While I attempt to fuck the fuckin' Game upBitch, splat, only thing I fear in here is chit-chat

You are hearing bars like your ear against a Kit-Kat

Shady guys like the Navy, drive, wavy bye bye

Maybe my glock can turn your top to baby's MaybachMy shit is powerful, literally sick, trust me, nigga

It's ugly to kill a thing if the bigger I get

The more disgusting and fuckin' disfigured it gets

Niggas expect me to go pop, oh, stop

Y'all about the champagne, I'm about the toastI only fuck with mailmen, with heroin from Boca

Niggas that'll smoke you while you staring in your postbox

Only incense he enlightens when he's thinkin'

While that sinks in, I got a Brinks ink penI'm back, motherfucker

Notice the flyness on the cover of the XXL

I'm back from the dead like Tobey Maguire from the Brothers

How y'all realer? If I said it, I did it

If I didn't, I seen it first-hand like a car dealerGive up the throne, your lease up, I am the Mona Lisa

That decoded Da Vinci Code, you throwin' your piece up

Is a waste of fake like a phony B-cup

Nigga, the mistake was like my only teacher

Wait 'til they get a load of me 'causeI've got Gucci's on my feet, diamonds on my neck

Diamonds on my wrist, bitches on my dick

But y'all already said thatChoppers in the trunk, models in the front

Bottles in the club but I don't give a fuck

But y'all already said that'Cause sometimes I feel like it's so hard

For me to come up with shit and just say, "Aye"

I'm at a loss for words 'cause y'all already said it all

I think I'm runnin' out of cliches, I'm gettin' writer's block

(Psyche)When I stand up in this booth, niggas notice it

Sittin' on the same boat that Noah built

Floatin' on the same water Moses split

Poetry in motion but we sittin' on your grave site, overkillAren't you tired, why are you so loud? Quiet

Real dudes move in silence, like a mute drivin' a new hybrid

You dudes is too excited

You a dude that'd try to sue a dude that's suicidalYou will just be another victim

I am like a nickel of weed rolled in a doobie

I'm a little twisted, I roll like the end credits in movies

Y'all just got scriptedGot y'all niggas' bitches bobbin' to this one when she wit' ya

When she wit' me, she bobbin', not vibin'

Tryin' to put her mind into the inside of my zipperI'm a serpent with a purpose, havin' problems

Not a problem I've encountered

I have found elephants, lions, clowns

Will jump through hoops like they workin' for the circus

At the fire round the circle's right in front of them, fire roundsPun intended, gun extended, what are you mark's askin'?

Car's Aston, started as a hard-top and I saw past it

Since I decided to start class diss

All black, all glass, panoramic roof been gettin' marked absentI authorize my own all-access

Your bitch a whore, I'm a catch, she ball-catchin'

Her jaw's been broadcasted all across the globe from the store to Japan

Her pussy need to be blocked and reported as spamBong, Interscope up in this dope and I sell it

My voicemail is full, got bitches screamin' inside of envelopes

And they tryin' to mail 'em to me, tryin' to reach my phone

I don't know which one is harder

Tryin' to not to take your bitch or tryin' to get rid of my ownI've got Gucci's on my feet, diamonds on my neck

Diamonds on my wrist, bitches on my dick

But y'all already said thatChoppers in the trunk, models in the front

Bottles in the club but I don't give a fuck

But y'all already said that'Cause sometimes I feel like it's so hard

For me to come up with shit and just say, "Aye"

I'm at a loss for words 'cause y'all already said it all

I think I'm runnin' out of cliches, I'm gettin' writer's block

(Psyche)Man, get the bozak

We need to start bringin' that shit back

(Mad flavor)

Man, fuck it, I'm 'bout to go catch some wreck

(We in effect, money, hahaha)Mad props to Royce for keepin' it real

On the strength, no diggity

I'm 'bout to go pull some hoes, get my mack on

Haters get the gas face, hahahah

Enjoy the lyrics !!!