[Chorus]
Every time I get in my zone I’m tryna kill a rhyme
Fuck a faker, fuck a phony, fuck a filler line
And instilled in my soul is the will to write
But skill is minimized when it’s time to weaponize
A state of shock is not what I’m identifying
If I’m a flop, then I’m not gonna get the time
To make it rock like cockiness is in my mind
So Writer’s Block is not how I’ma live my life
Writer’s Block, I do not got Writer’s Block
And I’ma write regardless of the bars that have locked me in Writer’s Block

[Verse 1]
They say I got Writer’s Block, what do I say to that? I’ma bay and cackle like a maniac
Backed by Mayeniac, yeah he made the track, so it’s safe to say that I came to rap
But I hate to brag, I’m just hanging back because I can’t keep a straight face spraying crap
I wasn’t made to act, with erasive tactics I’ma take your fake hits and make em fact
I’m quite scared of these nightmares cuz they’re right there, so I’ll write fear
And I never want another summer night smeared by these trite lyrics spit, aight? Hear
Me, I’ma knife, shears, and I’ma slice ears cuz I’m nice, clearly I might really
Be the one motherfucker who, despite appearances, might be nearing my height of dealing
With this nonsense, aww shit, I can’t even write this song’s script
Cuz every time I try to write a bar in, I think it’s all sick, but it’s hog shit
I’ll admit that I’m just like all kids, addicted to all this raw spit
I’m uncooked, if obnoxious is what Sauce is then I’m all in
And it’s so appealing when I’ve over-seasoned any vocals heating up the dopest beats so
When you go to eat it up and poke your teeth in, it’s loaded, seeping that potent bleeding
Flow…yo…Don’t Feed The Heathens, Writer’s Block’s not controlling me and
I’m below the median but owning beats so it’s so deceiving, no note I’m leaving, go

[Verse 2]
Even though I write the awesomest rounds, I am not quite the talk of the town
Everybody fills up and builds up clowns, so when I come around I’ma knock em all down
…wow, way to be a hater, I should wait to hate until I’m rocking a crowd
Walking around, talking aloud, and tossing my nonsense around like it’s sound
…And not dissonant, but I’m pissed at twits, with their radios listening
To these senseless hits who keep tempting kids to regret any sensible questioning
Of every level in this shallow and decadent, and impregnable temples of devils’ din
…I’m getting restless, several sins are unsettling to my mental well-being
But I could never like bad spit (Naw), guess I’ll never write that hit, naw
Like whatever I’m bat-shit, off in my own little world, if you like me I’m lost
I’ma keep it all in despite what it costs, every time I write I’ll ignite and exhaust
Spiking your cough syrup nights with a song, y’all could never write with the likeness of Sauce
And I’ma right the wrongs of unsightly songs who’re living life like a light bulb bright and on
Cuz when the lights are off and every hype-man’s gone, I’m delighted to haunt em in nightly taunts
But I might be talking that Writer’s Block, yeah I might be talking that Writer’s Block
But it smites me not, and I’ma write regardless of the bars that have locked me in Writer’s Block
Word