Luyện nghe bài hát Reason For Rhyme

Verse 1, MJG,

I'm MJG, the with the versatile style
Check your calendar realize that I 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 them salt shaker tryin to get in that ass
been too long, you motherfuckers fittin to feel the south
Shut mouth, shut your do you little freak ass hoe
I'm bout tired of all this damn east and west shit
Especially when other niggaz tryin to work in bitch
I my dues to the fullest, worked to god damn hard
For you too kill the industry and me out of a job
You strain yourself, to maintain yourself
And now you playin with enough rope to hang yourself
But you care, hell, you constantly fallin deep in the plot
Mesmerized all the bitches and the money you got
You must of forgot they said that rap never last ten years
And if your selfish to the fact, I'm tryin to have a
Now listen here, what do we have, we got cause
To keep the pen on the paper and the in your drawers, nigga

Remember back when we used to do shit for fun
Bein the dopest on my made me ranked number one
No gun, just a pen and paper by the sheet
In the crib, gettin funky off the nigga beat
No electronics to make the shit that I the chronic
Shit sick enough to bring from your stomach
Quick as a comet, shield your eyes the UV
Groovey, a nigga from a Batman movie
Real about the shit that I over dope beats
You can't say it was fake unless you up on my street
Concrete niggaz, runnin from FED niggaz,
Po' ass niggaz, that came out dead niggaz
And all I wanted to be was an emcee
Did a little dirt and 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
I'm true to this rap
My for rhyme
I'm real with this rap
My reason for
It ain't all the cheese
Even though fat can make a nigga g's

Verse 2,

My for rhymin, while I'm in, a position to be tellin
It's not about the fame and them who be yellin
At my concerts, one verse, dicks up, fuck
Lies start spreadin now you in a mix up
I gits up, do sits up, and squeeze my mental back in order
And use my hand as a recorder
Jottin all the information placed 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 your end
Friends don't be friends and foes don't be
However the way you it, that's how you want 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 Draper
And I'll potray the man that I'm to be
Dim the (Hip-tie) for the MJG

Chorus, 2X

3, Eightball:

Give me a crowd of wild niggaz who real hip hop
And watched smoke get up, like water in a mop
Drop presidents among me and my own
And let bullshit walk among the past with ghosts
Ain't no hope of bein takin
When limited avenues are to me
So, I take shit and make shit mine
Jackin only for position in this thing rhyme
Freestyle, not great, but if you wait for a
I write some 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, niggaz who hold on like En Vogue
Even though I moved out the 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