Chance The Rapper - The Writer Lyrics
[Intro]Niggas try and come at me and like shit like don't you... like I only write slow songs and I only write (?)...How many of ya'll are *****ing with me with a pen, really?I'm a writer, probably as good as Elton JohnBut what's right and good for it if it ain't helpin' moms?I'm trying to feed Japan while seeing sights in LebanonAnd wiping away tears to the girls that's getting felted onI'm trying to get my felt pen on, but the Block is hotMy answer is questioning if I'm Bach or notIf I'm Chewbacca non-existent to these JuggernautsBut I'm an architect, an astronaut, an argonautSo hey you, get off my couchYou don't know me stay the ***** out my mouthBut I'm a writer you can quote it out loudA false poet, get my dough and I'm outBut here's an eighth of shrooms for your earlobeA little rap wrapped in cigarillosA little bit of Wu Tang mixed with some Henry David ThoreauA little (?) on your pillowThis is for the day that your dad diesBut for some reason all you're hearing is sad sidesAnd searching for the style (?) you can't crySo you check your iPod and search for some bad vibesFrom that rap guy who raps over sad vibesI wrote it in an hour dog don't know what your dad's likeHe probably was a great dad, he's probably in paradise(?) Sadly I can't writeNothingThis is for those that wrote suicide notesAnd all the hipster girls that were superfly dopeYou looking at her nose what you do beside copeYou looking at her palms what you do besides dopeNothingLife is but a supersize noteI opened up my mind like a suicide doorAnd grab a pimp cane and a superfly coatHave them bobbing they heads for something stupid I wroteI hope