The Writer Lyrics - Chance The Rapper

Niggas try to come at me and shit like 

On some like, I only write slow songs 

And I only write... church and 

How many of y'all are fucking with me with a pen, period? 

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I'm a writer, probably as good as Elton John 

But whats writing good for if it ain't helping moms? 

I'm tryna feed Japan while seeing sights of Lebanon 

And wiping away tears of girls that's getting felted on 

I'm tryna get my felt pen on but the block is hot 

My hands is questioning if I'm bach or not 

If I'm 2Pac or nonexistent to these juggernauts 

But I'm a architect an astronaut an argonaut 

So hey, you, get off my couch 

You don't know me stay the fuck out my mouth 

But I'm a writer you can quote it out loud 

A false poet get my dough and I'm out 

But here's an eighth of shrooms for your earlobe 

A little rap wrapped in cigarillo 

A little bit of Wu-Tang, mixed with some Henry David Thoreau 

A little ponder theory you can ponder on your pillow 

But this is for the day that your dad dies 

Puffin' some reason all you hearing is sad sighs 

You searchin' for nostalgia but sad and you can't cry 

So you check your iPod in search for some bad vibes 

From that rap guy, who raps over sad vibes 

I wrote it in an hour dawg, don't know what your dads like 

He probably was a great dad, he's probably in paradise 

You want deeply in heartbreak and sadly I can't write, nothing 

This is for those who wrote suicide notes 

And all the hipster girls that was super fly dope 

You looking at her nose what you do besides coke 

You looking at her palms what you do besides dope 

Nothing, life is but a supersized note 

I open up my mind like suicide door 

And grab a pimp cane and a superfly coat 

Have they bobbing they heads to something stupid I wrote I hope 

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