Luyện nghe bài hát Reason For Rhyme

Verse 1, MJG,

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

Remember back we used to do this shit for fun
Bein the dopest on my block me ranked number one
No gun, a pen and notebook paper by the sheet
In the crib, gettin funky off the next beat
No electronics to make the shit that I wrote the
sick enough to bring vomit from your stomach
Quick as a comet, shield your from the UV
Groovey, like a nigga from a movie
Real about the shit I express over dope beats
You can't say it was unless you grew up on my street
Concrete head niggaz, from FED niggaz,
Po' ass scared niggaz, that out dead niggaz
And all I wanted to be was an emcee
Did a dirt and found it wasn't for me
Poetry through my bloodstream like a drug
I'm addicted to rhyme because I the buzz, nigga

Chorus, 2X:

My for rhyme
Because I'm true to rap
My reason for
Because I'm real this rap
My for rhyme
It ain't all about the
Even though fat lp's can make a g's

Verse 2,

My reason for rhymin, I'm in, a position to be tellin
not about the fame and them bitches who be yellin
At my concerts, one verse, dicks up, fuck
Lies start now you tangled in a mix up
I gits up, do sits up, and squeeze my mental mindrame back in
And use my hand as a 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 then a shot of Hen
Hit this hand on your end
Friends don't be friends and don't be foes
the way you bring it, that's how you want it, I suppose
I can stay up out the keep my aim on my paper
And I'll be sure to keep my pimpin real Tony Draper
And potray the man that I'm known to be
Dim the (Hip-tie) for the MJG

Chorus, 2X

Verse 3,

Give me a crowd of wild niggaz who love hip hop
And watched smoke get soaked up, water in a mop
Drop presidents among me and my own
And let that bullshit among the past with ghosts
no hope of bein takin seriously
When limited avenues are to me
So, naturally I take shit and make shit
Jackin only for position in this thing called
Freestyle, not great, but if you wait for a
I could write shit down that could get a gold record
Thought about not the first thing that I think
MJG and Eightball and hard is how we out
Runnin out, who can't hold on like En Vogue
Even though I out the mound I'm still ten toed
for the shit I do, the Suave House crew
True to this shit, because this is so true

Chorus, 2X

End shoutouts