[Intro: JR Writer & Hell Rell & Diplomats]
Oh, that's what I'm talkin' about
Yeah, that's more like it
Writer, let's kidnap somebody on this one
Let's do it (come on, JR)
Uh, JR in the buildin', Writers Block Pt. 2, in stores
Go pick that up if you don't got it
Let's do it, Writer, let's go

[Verse 1: JR Writer]
Yo, I'm a hooligan hater, but I move like a player
Take a look up in my closet, every shoe will be gater
Have your baby mother drillin, out the coupe when I slay her
You couldn't give the bitch the tip if you was a waiter
You ain't marketed boo, why argue with you
I'm in the mayback tryna find parkin' for two
The god of this bedroom, the weapon
You ain't seein' numbers your career is on Star 67
Your tracklist is crackness, I use it as a ashkid
Like hold up, yeah, flick your asses on this wack shit
This ain't that pimp, homie I will finish ya
Black suits, back cars, ho, I'm like the senator
Or kinda similar, plus ask the DJ's
I put out fire like I'm holdin' an extinguisher
New shit every week, new pimp, bury heat
I'll show you how to do this, your music is very sweet
[Verse 2: Hell Rell]
Yo, they tryna say I'm down-down (damn)
No n***a, I'm uppity up-up, up in the truck
And I'm bustin' the dutch open, picture me rollin'
These n***as get up out the way they see this ratchet I'm holdin'
Homie, your career's up and down like a seashore
You always talkin' 'bout you fly, never been on a G-4 (C'mon)
Lemme take you to the crib where we stay at for the summer
It's a bar in the bathroom then I but like a butler
[?], you concentrate on money it's hard for you to think
Tips on the ride, fifth on the side
Lil' n***as look up to me like a blunt was in the sky
Why? I don't know, I guess they feelin' my swagger
Love the way that I be clickin' my clack and whippin' that batter
And gather round, gun-toters you still shootin'
Let off some shots to this Hell Rell music
Here's a couple of bars for your brain cause it's theraputic
Cop 45, put your hands high
I, Hell Reezy, give her the cramps easy
Just fly, she knowin' n***as in lamborghinis
The doors is uppin', these whores are sluts
Get scooped up and we put all of them up
And I'ma have enough money till I can bathe in it
You can't walk in my shoes, our feet was made different, n***a