Correction Lyrics Writer's Block by Packy

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Lyrics

Yeah
Yeah

Fell in love with me when you was only 18
Your friends liked me, your parents hated me
You would sneak me in the house, cut off all the lights
Spend the whole night up on your couch, aw yeah
I was a little older, I had the street smarts
You were a little naive, you a sweetheart
You were a good kid, I was a rebel
But you understood me and I could get you on your level, like
"You all I ever wanted
We could do it real big, bigger than you ever done it
You be up on everything, they ain't never on it
I want this forever, I swear I could spend whatever on it, yeah"
And so you did
Gave me all your time and your money, did it big
You would skip class just to get me in the whip
Put me on, tell me how you 'bout to be the shit
And I believed you

Do you really love me or you used to me?
Why you gotta have yourself a drink to tell the truth to me?
Why we can't be like the old days?
I wish you would go back to your old ways
Back when you had nothing
Back when you needed me
Back when our time together
Was the realest shit of your week
You were deep, think of me in your sleep
Now, I hope you think about the promises you didn't keep

A lot of people wanted me but you would work for me
They saw my good side, you seen the worst of me
Somehow, you always had words for me
But that lingo you got, I know you learned from me
Time passed and you took me for granted
And now you jealous that I'm getting attention from other rappers
It used to come natural for you to love me and now you force it
Maybe we should be divorcin'
You told me that
You would make an album every year
You would sell out every show, you would be a millionaire
Told me all that it would take is patience
Well, I been waitin', and you not lookin' like you made it
Where the chains? Where the whips? Where the crib?
Why your hometown still the place that you live?
I thought you never needed that, now you need it to be happy
At least that's the way you act

You would make an album every year
You would sell out every show, you would be a millionaire
Told me all that it would take is patience
Well, I been waitin', and you not lookin' like you made it
Where the chains? Where the whips? Where the crib?
Why your hometown still the place that you live?
f*ck your writer's block, signed, sealed, delivered
Sincerely, hip-hop

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