Luyện nghe bài hát Reason For Rhyme

Verse 1, MJG,

I'm MJG, the nigga the versatile style
Check your calendar realize that I here for awhile
When I was young I took the soul up out of rhythm and
When hip hop originated slowly paid my
And take my shoes, and try to walk a in my past
Without salt shaker sheisters tryin to get in that ass
It's been too long, you motherfuckers fittin to feel the
Shut your mouth, shut your do you little ass hoe
I'm tired of all this damn east and west coast shit
Especially other niggaz tryin to work in this bitch
I paid my dues to the fullest, worked to god damn
For you too kill the and leave me out of a job
You niggaz strain yourself, to yourself
And now you playin with enough rope to actually yourself
But you don't care, hell, you constantly deep in the plot
Mesmerized from all the and the money you got
You must of forgot said that rap would never last ten years
And if your selfish to the fact, I'm to have a career
Now listen here, what do we have, we got probable
To the pen on the paper and the glock in your drawers, nigga

Remember back when we used to do this for fun
Bein the dopest on my block me ranked number one
No gun, just a pen and paper by the sheet
In the crib, gettin funky off the next nigga
No to make the shit that I wrote the chronic
Shit enough to bring vomit from your stomach
Quick as a comet, your eyes from the UV
Groovey, like a nigga a Batman movie
Real about the that I express over dope beats
You can't say it was fake unless you up on my street
head niggaz, runnin from FED niggaz,
Po' ass niggaz, that came out dead niggaz
And all I ever wanted to be was an
Did a little dirt and found it for me
Poetry flowin through my bloodstream a drug
I'm to rhyme because I love the buzz, nigga

Chorus, 2X:

My reason for
I'm true to this rap
My reason for
I'm real with this rap
My reason for
It ain't all the cheese
Even fat lp's can make a nigga g's

Verse 2,

My reason for rhymin, I'm in, a position to be tellin
It's not about the fame and them bitches who be
At my concerts, one verse, dicks up, quick
Lies spreadin now you tangled in a mix up
I gits up, do sits up, and squeeze my mental back in order
And use my as a tape recorder
Jottin down all the information in front of me
The good time, the bad time, the way I it oughta be
Now G, can you comprehend?
If you can drink a shot of Hen
Hit this hand on silver end
don't be friends and foes don't be foes
However the way you bring it, that's how you it, I suppose
I can up out the game keep my aim on my paper
And I'll be sure to keep my pimpin real with Tony
And potray the man that I'm known to be
Dim the (Hip-tie) for the MJG

Chorus, 2X

Verse 3,

me a crowd of wild niggaz who love real hip hop
And watched smoke get soaked up, like in a mop
presidents among me and my own folk
And let that bullshit walk among the with ghosts
Ain't no hope of bein takin
limited avenues are given to me
So, naturally I take shit and shit mine
Jackin for position in this thing called rhyme
Freestyle, not great, but if you for a second
I could write some shit that could get a gold record
Thought not the first thing that I think about
MJG and Eightball and is how we comin out
Runnin out, niggaz who can't on like En Vogue
though I moved out the mound I'm still ten toed
Down for the shit I do, the Suave House
True to this shit, because shit is so true

Chorus, 2X

End shoutouts