Luyện nghe bài hát Reason For Rhyme

Verse 1, MJG,

I'm MJG, the nigga the versatile style
Check your calendar realize that I been for awhile
When I was young I took the soul up out of and blues
hip hop originated slowly paid my dues
And take my shoes, and try to walk a in my past
Without them shaker sheisters tryin to get in that ass
been too long, you motherfuckers fittin to feel the south
Shut your mouth, shut your do you little ass hoe
I'm tired of all this damn east and west coast shit
Especially when niggaz tryin to work in this bitch
I paid my dues to the fullest, to god damn hard
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 hang yourself
But you don't care, hell, you constantly fallin in the plot
Mesmerized from all the and the money you got
You must of they said that rap would 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 glock in your drawers,

back when we used to do this shit for fun
Bein the dopest on my block made me ranked one
No gun, just a pen and notebook 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 vomit your stomach
as a comet, shield your eyes from the UV
Groovey, a nigga from a Batman movie
Real about the shit I express over dope beats
You can't say it was fake unless you grew up on my
head niggaz, runnin from FED niggaz,
Po' ass scared niggaz, that came out niggaz
And all I wanted to be was an emcee
Did a dirt and found it wasn't for me
Poetry flowin through my like a drug
I'm addicted to because I love the buzz, nigga

Chorus, 2X:

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

Verse 2,

My reason for rhymin, while I'm in, a position to be
It's not about the fame and them bitches who be
At my concerts, one verse, up, quick fuck
start spreadin now you tangled in a mix up
I gits up, do sits up, and squeeze my mindrame back in order
And use my hand as a recorder
Jottin down all the placed in front of me
The time, the bad time, the way I think it oughta be
Now G, can you comprehend?
If you can then drink a of Hen
Hit hand on your silver end
Friends don't be and foes don't be foes
the way you bring it, that's how you want it, I suppose
I can stay up out the game my aim on my paper
And I'll be sure to keep my pimpin real with Draper
And I'll potray the man 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, like in a mop
Drop among me and my own folk
And let bullshit walk among the past with ghosts
Ain't no of bein takin seriously
When limited are given to me
So, naturally I shit and make shit mine
Jackin for position in this thing called 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 thing that I think about
MJG and Eightball and hard is how we out
Runnin out, niggaz who can't hold on like En
Even I moved out the mound I'm still ten toed
Down for the shit I do, the Suave House
True to this shit, because this is so true

Chorus, 2X

End shoutouts