Luyện nghe bài hát Reason For Rhyme

Verse 1, MJG,

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

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

Chorus, 2X:

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

Verse 2,

My reason for rhymin, while I'm in, a to be tellin
It's not about the fame and bitches who be yellin
At my concerts, one verse, dicks up, fuck
start spreadin 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 follow G, can you
If you can then drink a of Hen
Hit this hand on silver end
Friends be friends and foes don't be foes
However the way you bring it, that's how you 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 I'll the man that I'm known to be
Dim the (Hip-tie) for the MJG

Chorus, 2X

3, Eightball:

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

Chorus, 2X

End shoutouts