Luyện nghe bài hát Reason For Rhyme

Verse 1, MJG,

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

Remember back when we used to do this for fun
the dopest on my block made me ranked number one
No gun, just a pen and notebook by the sheet
In the crib, gettin off the next nigga beat
No to make the shit that I wrote the chronic
Shit sick enough to bring vomit from your
Quick as a comet, shield your from the UV
Groovey, like a nigga from a Batman
Real the shit that I express over 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 came out niggaz
And all I ever wanted to be was an
Did a little dirt and 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
I'm true to this rap
My reason for
Because I'm real with rap
My for rhyme
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 to be tellin
not about the fame and them bitches who be yellin
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 mental back in order
And use my as a tape recorder
Jottin all the information 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 a shot of Hen
Hit hand on your silver 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 my pimpin real with Tony Draper
And potray the man that I'm known 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 soaked up, like in a mop
presidents among me and my own folk
And let that bullshit among the past with ghosts
Ain't no of bein takin seriously
When avenues are given to me
So, naturally I take shit and make shit
Jackin only for position in this called rhyme
Freestyle, not great, but if you for a second
I could write some shit that could get a gold record
Thought about not the first thing that I about
MJG and Eightball and is how we comin out
Runnin out, who can't hold on like En Vogue
Even though I moved out the mound I'm still ten
Down for the shit I do, the Suave crew
to this shit, because this shit is so true

Chorus, 2X

End with