The Writer (DJ Critical Hype Blend)

Im a writer, probably as good as Elton John
But whats writing good for if it aint helping moms?
Im tryna feed Japan while seeing sights of Lebanon
And wiping away tears of the girls thats getting felted on
Im tryna get my felt pen on but the block is hot
My hands is questioning if Im Bach or not
If Im 2Pac or nonexistent to these juggernauts
But Im an architect, an astronaut, an argonaut
So hey, you, get off my couch
You dont know me, stay the fuck out my mouth
But Im a writer, you can quote it out loud
A false poet, get my dough and Im out
But heres 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
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 a suicide door
And grab a pimp cane and a superfly coat
Have em bobbing they heads to something stupid I wrote