Yo
I've been obsessed with words ever since I was a little buck
Then I grew bigger and figured drawing pads weren't big enough
I wanted to use a wall, but in school was taught not to
And that graffiti was the root of all evil
It's just letters and making them unnatural shapes
So clean caps, surgical masks is actually sayin activate
To coat our empire
Liftin' mad cans of paint from Fred Meyers
Empty 'em out under bridges and walls of alleyways
Givin the graph task force a sour taste
The same flavor that makes haters salivate
It was my goal as a minor, caught a felony, so now what they
I don't struggle to prove nothing to you
I get a head full of letters,
I'm cuttin 'em loose, speakin the truth
Cousin, it ain't a gift, it's a habit
Whether good or bad, I won't regret it when I'm lookin back
Cause I'm a letterhead
I'm a letterhead
So don't sweat the technique
When I represent me
Get em
Lunch time, I was tryin to bring that realness back
F*ck the lunch line, cause I ain't have no sprill or sprash
I was on the way to Fred Meyers just to fill my bags
Steppin in the home improvement section with my sticky hands
That's why I got these baggy pants, to conceal the stash
But undercover security can't conceal his badge
I know every single camera that this building has
And I racked so many cans that I'm almost feeling bad
That's exactly what a bad look ain't
Cause it's quite good, like the backwood taste
And I never stole a Snickers but I have took paint
So hello my name is pickers in the black book, thanks
Shit, I'd be admired if I was trying harder
But I'm a riot starter, beef igniter
Just a street writer but I hope to die a martyr
Freedom fighter, woulda stolen pilot marker
Why you got all that spray paint on your finger tips?
Cause I'm a letterhead
I'm a letterhead
So don't sweat the technique
While I represent me
I was just a kid in Seattle doin kick flips in a flannel
With some fat cats, I wracked off midget enamels
In Cali, they rhyme chateaus with mellows
My posse was on Broadway, scribin on the Metros
Gettin pound by the bus driver
"Hell nah! "
I was a letterhead, my life was graffiti
Letters I lived, I put pride in that mean street
Adventures to your ribs, I'm not goin to the precinct
You can buff me, you can cuff me
You can't stop me
I'm young, cocky, gettin up with my sharpie
Michelangelo with the concrete
That little ball in the paint can was the metronome to my heart beat
I put my freedom on the line, for the letters on the walls
Shubu, patriot, flat black up in my palm
Cherry red in my blood, I bleed the ink through my arms
It's like America bombin buildings and not gettin caught
Nope I'm not gettin caught
Cause I'm a letterhead
Yes I am, I've been tellin you that
Don't sweat the technique, while I'm killing these beats
Bitch.
Letterhead Remix Video (MV)
Macklemore - Letterhead Remix Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Yo
I've been obsessed with words ever since I was a little buck
Then I grew bigger and figured drawing pads weren't big enough
I wanted to use a wall, but in school was taught not to
And that graffiti was the root of all evil
It's just letters and making them unnatural shapes
So clean caps, surgical masks is actually sayin activate
To coat our empire
Liftin' mad cans of paint from Fred Meyers
Empty 'em out under bridges and walls of alleyways
Givin the graph task force a sour taste
The same flavor that makes haters salivate
It was my goal as a minor, caught a felony, so now what they
I don't struggle to prove nothing to you
I get a head full of letters,
I'm cuttin 'em loose, speakin the truth
Cousin, it ain't a gift, it's a habit
Whether good or bad, I won't regret it when I'm lookin back
Cause I'm a letterhead
I'm a letterhead
So don't sweat the technique
When I represent me
Get em
Lunch time, I was tryin to bring that realness back
F*ck the lunch line, cause I ain't have no sprill or sprash
I was on the way to Fred Meyers just to fill my bags
Steppin in the home improvement section with my sticky hands
That's why I got these baggy pants, to conceal the stash
But undercover security can't conceal his badge
I know every single camera that this building has
And I racked so many cans that I'm almost feeling bad
That's exactly what a bad look ain't
Cause it's quite good, like the backwood taste
And I never stole a Snickers but I have took paint
So hello my name is pickers in the black book, thanks
Shit, I'd be admired if I was trying harder
But I'm a riot starter, beef igniter
Just a street writer but I hope to die a martyr
Freedom fighter, woulda stolen pilot marker
Why you got all that spray paint on your finger tips?
Cause I'm a letterhead
I'm a letterhead
So don't sweat the technique
While I represent me
I was just a kid in Seattle doin kick flips in a flannel
With some fat cats, I wracked off midget enamels
In Cali, they rhyme chateaus with mellows
My posse was on Broadway, scribin on the Metros
Gettin pound by the bus driver
"Hell nah! "
I was a letterhead, my life was graffiti
Letters I lived, I put pride in that mean street
Adventures to your ribs, I'm not goin to the precinct
You can buff me, you can cuff me
You can't stop me
I'm young, cocky, gettin up with my sharpie
Michelangelo with the concrete
That little ball in the paint can was the metronome to my heart beat
I put my freedom on the line, for the letters on the walls
Shubu, patriot, flat black up in my palm
Cherry red in my blood, I bleed the ink through my arms
It's like America bombin buildings and not gettin caught
Nope I'm not gettin caught
Cause I'm a letterhead
Yes I am, I've been tellin you that
Don't sweat the technique, while I'm killing these beats
Bitch.
I've been obsessed with words ever since I was a little buck
Then I grew bigger and figured drawing pads weren't big enough
I wanted to use a wall, but in school was taught not to
And that graffiti was the root of all evil
It's just letters and making them unnatural shapes
So clean caps, surgical masks is actually sayin activate
To coat our empire
Liftin' mad cans of paint from Fred Meyers
Empty 'em out under bridges and walls of alleyways
Givin the graph task force a sour taste
The same flavor that makes haters salivate
It was my goal as a minor, caught a felony, so now what they
I don't struggle to prove nothing to you
I get a head full of letters,
I'm cuttin 'em loose, speakin the truth
Cousin, it ain't a gift, it's a habit
Whether good or bad, I won't regret it when I'm lookin back
Cause I'm a letterhead
I'm a letterhead
So don't sweat the technique
When I represent me
Get em
Lunch time, I was tryin to bring that realness back
F*ck the lunch line, cause I ain't have no sprill or sprash
I was on the way to Fred Meyers just to fill my bags
Steppin in the home improvement section with my sticky hands
That's why I got these baggy pants, to conceal the stash
But undercover security can't conceal his badge
I know every single camera that this building has
And I racked so many cans that I'm almost feeling bad
That's exactly what a bad look ain't
Cause it's quite good, like the backwood taste
And I never stole a Snickers but I have took paint
So hello my name is pickers in the black book, thanks
Shit, I'd be admired if I was trying harder
But I'm a riot starter, beef igniter
Just a street writer but I hope to die a martyr
Freedom fighter, woulda stolen pilot marker
Why you got all that spray paint on your finger tips?
Cause I'm a letterhead
I'm a letterhead
So don't sweat the technique
While I represent me
I was just a kid in Seattle doin kick flips in a flannel
With some fat cats, I wracked off midget enamels
In Cali, they rhyme chateaus with mellows
My posse was on Broadway, scribin on the Metros
Gettin pound by the bus driver
"Hell nah! "
I was a letterhead, my life was graffiti
Letters I lived, I put pride in that mean street
Adventures to your ribs, I'm not goin to the precinct
You can buff me, you can cuff me
You can't stop me
I'm young, cocky, gettin up with my sharpie
Michelangelo with the concrete
That little ball in the paint can was the metronome to my heart beat
I put my freedom on the line, for the letters on the walls
Shubu, patriot, flat black up in my palm
Cherry red in my blood, I bleed the ink through my arms
It's like America bombin buildings and not gettin caught
Nope I'm not gettin caught
Cause I'm a letterhead
Yes I am, I've been tellin you that
Don't sweat the technique, while I'm killing these beats
Bitch.