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letra de if i wrote a book - bronsonjordan beats

[intro]
i have nothing left to lose
there is nothing more to gain
nothing’s running through my mind
no thoughts running through my brain
’cause i know-

[verse 1: liroot]
at that point in my life where i’m on another chapter
i like to skim ahead and see what’s coming after
blank page after blank sp-ce, like a tail or wrapper
roll the paper, filling it up with pain and laughter
the deadline is midnight, writing like it’s 11:59
you know me, writing like i’m running out of time
running outta lines every rhyme
you can call me liroot, like he [?]
that’s how you define? then define me
wish i was a sneakerhead, like some dude named a job
put my worries away, and hide behind a suit and tie
jay-z in another life, these blueprints are hard to find
but there’s blues here, hot in my mind
inconsistent, burning bridges, lacking motivation, certain
if you can only see what’s hiding behind a big curtain
trust me, it’s a marked target for the eye to see
despite the fact that i’m poppin’ off, there’s no auto in my biography
[chorus]
i would write a book if i could
but i’d never finish
i would write a song, good as i play
all the notes to me
i would write a book if i could
but i’d never finish
i would write a song, good as i play
all the notes to me

[verse 2: 704flame]
if i could write a book, i’d type up every single chapter
then i’d roll it to a blunt, so ain’t n0body read it after
spend another hour on another paragraph
and i’d erase it for the sp-ce, because i love to stare at that
the curse, i’d own the page, getting worser with my age
i would listen to the black book, and watch it turn to gray
hurts to be this way, but when you heard it all unchanged
type of sh-t that happens when you workin’ every day
[?] with the greasy-ass haircut
decent steps there, but it seems that i don’t bear much
don’t you wonder where the f-ck the kid would learn to hit the books?
every time i write a verse, the people give me different looks
the epilogues of poems you ain’t ever read before
they babble on forever, it ain’t f-ckin’ metaphors
and the page is still fresh, like your thumb is getting sore
ain’t no one to touch it, like the cover’s never worn, flame
[chorus]
i would write a book if i could
but i’d never finish
i would write a song, good as i play
all the notes to me

[verse 3: lennin ledesma]
yeah, it’s bronson on the beat again, we ’bout to make a classic
absent for a minute, they asking me, “what happened?”
i been going though it, to be honest, i’m an addict
stressin’ ’bout this paper, ’bout to have me in a casket
i’m a motherf-cking b-st-rd, not by definition
but to my standards, because there’s something missing
the pain is present ’round the holidays, come pay your visit
that makes me want to run and hide, the way i’m always quittin’
back up in my head again, i swear to god, i’m trippin’
i pray to god that every day, that they don’t catch me slippin’
never falling for debate, i’m flying with the fishes
i’m swimmin’ with the birds, i’m really rappin’ different
i came to get that work, i’m out here really runnin’ sh-t
i keep my circle tight, be careful who you f-ckin’ with
in my hood, they gon’ pull that thing out, it got you runnin’ quick
my people dying every day, like some f-ckin’ trip

- bronsonjordan beats

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