Lyrics Writer's Block - Fatlip

One out of every two people that see me
In the street ask me about my CD
What style will I create?
And what's the delay on the release date?
I hate to tell y'all the cold, cold truth
I'm a old nigga in the vocal booth
Coulda been a legend like Big and 'Pac
But I caught a bad case of writer's block
Writer's block, for those unaware
Is a condition that's hardly rare
Often compared to a tree that bears no fruit
A bank account with no loot
The inability to produce a thought
Ideas get stale, brain cells rot
Failed attempts at concentration
I'm in a state of psychological stagnation

So whatcha gonna do?
You try to write it but nothing will come to you
Don't try to fight it, tell me, what's it gonna be?
Don't lose your cool, I know it's usually so easy
But now you've been caught up with writer's block

Stuck on stupid, thinking bout the new kid
On the block, as the clock keeps ticking
Time is of essence, must maintain presence
Out of sight, out of mind
Still can't find the words to explain
My joy and my pain, I'm going INSANE
Like the nigga from The Shining
Everything on the line when I'm rhymin
The only way I pay rent, I represent
The only way I eat, I rhyme to a beat
The only way I buy clothes, I rock shows
Now you can see why the problem is posed

Yo It's kinda crazy when you think about it
I mean niggas get paid just to say what they think about
This that and the other. It sound easy
But, on the real, everybody sound greasy
Talk gangsta when you really ain't one
The last gat you blasted was a paint gun
Paint fictitious pictures to get richer
When you really a bitch, I ain't mad witcha
I wish I could make people believe
That I slang keys and tote D's, but I'm sorta like a fuckin' dweeb
And that don't sell
I never been shot, or been to jail
But I'm beginning to wish I had been
Just to put it down on a pad with a pen
Cause I just wanna ball with the rest of 'em
Be inducted in the hall with the best of 'em
But for now, it's just a dream
Cause I can't think of one fucking thing