Royce da 5'9", Eminem - Writer's Block lyrics

Yeah! I don’t know what else to say
I can’t, I can’t think of nothin'
I’m stumped, here we go!
On your feet! Stand up! Everybody hands up!
Uh, man, I don't know man
Every time I go to think of
Something played out to say
You already said it

I ain't callin' 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 their hands tied
Feet ball and chained up
Niggas be quick to call me the new 50 Cent
Because of my relationship with Marshall
Used to make me a little partial
But here's the brain fuck
We the same, 'cause
I'm probably 'bout to fall out
With a young buck
While I attempt to fuck the fuckin' game up
Bitch, splat! Only thing I fear
In here is chit-chat
You are hearin' bars like your
Ear against a Kit Kat
Shady guys like the Navy, try us
Wavey bye bye maybe my Glock can turn your
Top to Baby's Maybach
My shit is parvo, literally sick
Trust me, nigga, it's ugly to
Kill the thing is, the bigger I get
The more disgustin' and fuckin'
Disfigured it gets
Niggas expect me to go pop, oh, stop
Y'all about the Champagne, I'm
About the toast, i
Only fuck with mailmen with heroin from Boca
Niggas that'll smoke you while you
Starin' in your postbox
Only incense he enlightens when he's thinkin'
While that sinks in, I got a Brinks ink pen
I'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 card dealer
Give 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
Makin' the mistake was like my only teacher
Wait 'til they get a load of me, 'cause

I've got Guccis on my feet
Diamonds on my neck
Diamonds on my wrist, bitches on my dick
But y'all already said that
Choppers 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 to say, ayy
I'm at a loss for words
'cause y'all already said it all
I think I'm runnin' outta clichés
I'm gettin' writers 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: overkill
Aren'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 suicidal
You will just be another victim
I'm like a nickel of weed rolled in
A doobie: I'm a little twisted
I roll like the end credit's in movies
Y'all just got scripted
Got y'all niggas' bitches bobbin' to this
One when she wit' ya
When she with me, she bobbin', not vibin'
Tryna put her mind into the
Inside of my zipper
I'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
If the fire 'round the circle's
Right in front of them, fire rounds
Pun intended, gun extended
What are you marks askin'? Car's Aston
Started as a hard-top and I saw past it
Since I decided to start
Class, this all black, all glass
Panoramic roof been gettin' marked absent
I 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 spam
Interscope, I been this dope
Now sell it, my voicemail is full
Got bitches screamin' inside of envelopes
And they tryna mail ‘em to me
Tryna reach my phone
I don't know which one is harder:
Tryin' not to take your bitch or
Tryna get rid of my own

I've got Guccis on my feet
Diamonds on my neck
Diamonds on my wrist, bitches on my dick
But y'all already said that
Choppers 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 to say, ayy
I'm at a loss for words
'cause y'all already said it all
I think I'm runnin' outta clichés
I'm gettin' writers block, psyche!

Man, get the bozac!
We need to start bringin' that shit back
(Mad flava)
Man, fuck it, I'm 'bout to catch some wreck
(We in effect, money)
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!