Ruff Ryder's Block Lyrics

She's been around the writer's block before

And she doesn't have a motive anymore

A career as a writer doesn't excite her

The pen is mighty but a pistol is mightier

So tonight she'll get inspired as bodies hit the floor

She pulls a stack of pages off the shelf

She'll plagiarize a play she wrote herself

She pops the glock and the punks all drop

The bullets punctuate full stop

Her authorship is lost and the story writes itself

They say, write what you know, well, now the inverse is true

This time she's the one whodunit but she doesn't have a clue

So she hides the bodies in the New York Times' best cellar

Cause that's what the crickets in her head all tell her

Her blood-stained clothes are filled with type-Os

She should've left it to the prose

She knows, it shows, she always was a lousy speller

They say, write what you know, well, now the inverse is true

This time she's the one whodunit but she doesn't have a clue

What to do when the third person turns into the first

Taking on the killer's role completely unrehearsed

Oh, murder, she wrote, she wrote a lot

She wrote herself into the plot

Getting chased, more cops on her case

Than Irv Gotti got

And the ink from her pen

Bleeds a tale as old as time

Her red hands tip her off to the gore

She's left behind

Oh, murder galore, such a shame

Because the media's to blame

But the judge he's read this book before

And the cover bears her name

No chance to redact it

Premeditated reenactment

Check the facts, work the conviction

The evidence is stacked

Well, she's been around the writer's block before

And she doesn't have a motive anymore

Her next sentence might be life or death

No repentance, only one hope left

That while she's locked up in a cell

Her sales will surely soar