Blow into this paper bag Go home and stop grinning at everyone Blow into this paper bag Go home and stop grinning at everyone It was nice when it lasted
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
For me to come up with shitty to say (Ayyyyyy) 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
(G) I DREAMED THAT THE GREAT JUDGEMENT (C) MORNING, HAD (G) DAWNED, AND THE TRUMPET HAD (D7) BLOWN, I (G) DREAMED THAT ALL NATIONS HAD (C) GATHERED, TO
you overnight If you must return it you can send it here But I need a break and I want to be a paperback writer Paperback writer! Paperback writer Paperback writer Paperback writer
A.S over from London 40 Cal., Jha Jha what up ma, I got Miami in the house And the Writer of Writers, J.R {Hook} [J.R. Writer] {Cam Still talking} This
[Cam'ron] (Spoken) Yo J.R?, they've been waitin' for you dog. they've been asking. you ready? Dipset, Lets go! Writer [JR Writer] (CHORUS) To all
"Get Use To This" [Intro] Let's do it man (I'm so bad!!!) I'm in the building [J.R. Writer] Yo, I started the starters, and fathered the fathers who
wearing thin But I've got a plan Why don't you be the artist And make me out of clay Why don't you be the writer And decide the words I say 'Cause
the next affair And of girls I'll never see And here I sit The retired writer in the sun The retired writer in the sun and I'm blue The retired writer
I'm a reader and a writer Not a lover or a fighter When it comes to push and shove I'm as peaceful as a dove I'm a tiger in the night When I'm talking
In these words that crash my ears I now stomach this in fear With the turn I gathered name as the bastard's son Who by fire I would come Through this
fine Your house is as tumble-down as mine Crumpled papers everywhere like mine This one says "I'll write no more" That one says "don't lock the door" Writers
It doesn't matter what I say, it could be anything. All that matters is what they hear, and fuck, it can be beautiful Fuck. We'll turn it into something
do you even know? Mr. Writer, why don't you tell it like it is? Why don't you tell it like it really is? Before you go on home Mr. Writer, why don'
Reacclimate to my surroundings Back in a city that just seems to eat itself All I really want to do is get back into you No tension, no worries But every
the truth you've learned to bend Now ask your friends quietly You get worked over nightly By the brutal reality Of your last fairy tale Young fiction writer
