Luyện nghe bài hát Reason For Rhyme

Verse 1, MJG,

I'm MJG, the with 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
When hip hop originated slowly my dues
And my shoes, and try to walk a mile in my past
Without salt shaker sheisters 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 coast shit
Especially when other niggaz tryin to work in this
I paid my dues to the fullest, to god damn hard
For you too kill the and leave me out of a job
You niggaz strain yourself, to yourself
And now you playin with enough rope to actually hang
But you don't care, hell, you constantly fallin 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 your selfish to the fact, I'm to have a career
Now here, what do we have, we got probable cause
To keep the pen on the paper and the in your drawers, nigga

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 paper by the
In the crib, gettin funky off the next nigga
No electronics to the shit 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 over dope
You say it was fake unless you grew up on my street
Concrete head niggaz, runnin FED niggaz,
Po' ass niggaz, that came out dead niggaz
And all I ever to be was an emcee
Did a dirt and found it wasn't for me
flowin through my bloodstream like a drug
I'm addicted to rhyme because I love the buzz,

Chorus, 2X:

My for rhyme
I'm true to this rap
My reason for
Because I'm real with rap
My reason for
It all about the cheese
Even though fat can make a nigga g's

2, MJG:

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, dicks up, quick
Lies 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 tape
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 this hand on your end
Friends be friends and foes don't be foes
However the way you bring it, 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 with 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 niggaz who love real hip hop
And watched smoke get up, like water in a mop
Drop presidents me and my own folk
And let that bullshit among the past with ghosts
Ain't no hope of bein takin
When limited are given to me
So, naturally I take shit and make mine
Jackin only for in this thing called rhyme
Freestyle, not great, but if you wait for a
I could write some shit down that could get a record
Thought about not the thing that I think about
MJG and Eightball and is how we comin out
Runnin out, niggaz who hold on like En Vogue
Even though I moved out the I'm still ten toed
for the shit I do, the Suave House crew
True to shit, because this shit is so true

Chorus, 2X

End with