conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called Writer’s Block with the following description: Royce’s Rhyme scheme :
  
  
   Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Intro: Eminem]
  Yeah! I don’t know what else to say
  I can’t, I can’t think of nothin'
  I’m stumped, here we go!
  On your feet! Stand up! Everybody hands up!
  Uh, man, I don't know man
  Every time I go to think of something played out to say
  You already said it
  [Verse 1: Royce da 5’9”]
  I ain't callin' names 'cause all of y'all the same
  Plus I'm the king, all my past pain all done changed up
  All these plains, all these lames, since the Slaughter's came up
  'Cause they know their hands tied, feet ball and chained up
  Niggas be quick to call me the new 50 Cent
  Because of my relationship with Marshall
  Used to make me a little partial, 
  but here's the brain fuck
  We the same, 'cause
  I'm probably 'bout to fall out with a young buck
  While I attempt to fuck the fuckin' game up
  Bitch, splat! Only thing I fear in here is chit-chat
  You are hearin' bars like your ear against a Kit Kat
  Shady guys like the Navy, try us, wavey bye-bye
  Maybe my Glock can turn your top to Baby's Maybach
  My shit is parvo, literally sick
  Trust me, nigga, it's ugly to kill; the thing is, the bigger I get
  The more disgustin' and fuckin' disfigured it gets
  Niggas expect me to go pop, oh, stop
  Y'all about the Champagne, I'm about the toast, I
  Only fuck with mailmen with heroin from Boca
  Niggas that'll smoke you while you starin' in your postbox
  Only incense he enlightens when he's thinkin'
  While that sinks in, I got a Brinks ink pen
  I'm back! Motherfucker, notice the flyness on the cover
  Of the XXL, 
  I'm back from the dead
  Like Tobey Maguire from the Brothers
  How y'all realer? If I said it, I did it
  If I didn't, I seen it first-hand like a card dealer
  Give up the throne: your lease up; 
  I am the Mona Lisa
  That decoded Da Vinci Code,
   you throwin' your piece up
  Is a waste of fake like a phony B-cup
  Makin' the mistake was like my only teacher
  Wait 'til they get a load of me, 'cause— [Pre-Chorus: Royce da 5’9”]
  I've got Guccis on my feet,
   
  diamonds on my neck
  Diamonds on my wrist, bitches on my dick
  But y'all already said that
  Choppers in the trunk,
   models in the front
  Bottles in the club, but I don't give a fuck
  But y'all already said that
  [Chorus: Eminem]
  'Cause sometimes I feel like it's so hard for me
  To come up with shit to say, ayy
  I'm at a loss for words, 'cause y'all already said it all
  I think I'm runnin' outta clichés
  I'm gettin' writers block, psyche!
  [Verse 2: Royce da 5’9”]
  When I stand up in this booth, niggas notice it
  Sittin' on the same boat that Noah built
  Floatin' on the same water Moses split
  Poetry in motion, 
  but we sittin' on your grave site: overkill
  Aren't you tired? Why are you so loud? Quiet
  Real dudes move in silence, like a mute drivin' a new hybrid
  You dudes is too excited
  You a dude that'd try to sue a dude that's suicidal
  You will just be another victim
  I'm like a nickel of weed rolled in a doobie: I'm a little twisted
  I roll like the end credits in movies, y'all just got scripted
  Got y'all niggas' bitches bobbin' to this one when she wit' ya
  When she with me, she bobbin', not vibin'
  Tryna put her mind into the inside of my zipper
  I'm a serpent with a purpose
  Havin' problems? Not a problem
  I've encountered, I have found elephants, lions, clowns
  Will jump through hoops like they workin' for the circus
  If the fire 'round the circle's right in front of them, fire rounds
  Pun intended,
   gun extended, what are you marks askin'?
  Car's Aston, started as a hard-top and I saw past it
  Since I decided to start class, this all black, all glass
  Panoramic roof been gettin' marked absent
  I authorize my own all-access
  Your bitch a whore, I'm a catch, she ball-catchin'
  Her jaw's been broadcasted
  All across the globe from the store to Japan
  Her pussy need to be blocked and reported as spam
  Interscope, I been this dope
  Now sell it, my voicemail is full
  Got bitches screamin' inside of envelopes
  And they tryna mail ‘em to me
  Tryna reach my phone, I don't know which one is harder:
  Tryin' not to take your bitch or tryna get rid of my own [Pre-Chorus: Royce da 5’9”]
  I've got Guccis on my feet,
   
  diamonds on my neck
  Diamonds on my wrist, bitches on my dick
  But y'all already said that
  Choppers in the trunk,
   models in the front
  Bottles in the club, but 
  I don't give a fuck
  But y'all already said that
  [Chorus: Eminem]
  'Cause sometimes I feel like it's so hard for me
  To come up with shit to say, ayy
  I'm at a loss for words, 'cause y'all already said it all
  I think I'm runnin' outta clichés
  I'm gettin' writers block, psyche!
  [Outro: Eminem]
  Man, get the bozac!
  We need to start bringin' that shit back (Mad flava!)
  Man, fuck it, I'm 'bout to catch some wreck
  (We in effect, money!)
  Mad props to Royce for keepin' it real
  On the strength, 
  no diggity
  I'm 'bout to go pull some hoes, get my mack on
  Haters get the gas face!