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 the soul up out of rhythm and blues
When hip hop originated slowly my dues
And take my shoes, and try to walk a mile in my
Without them salt sheisters tryin to get in that ass
It's been too long, you motherfuckers to feel the south
Shut your mouth, shut your do you little ass hoe
I'm bout tired of all this damn and west coast shit
Especially when other niggaz tryin to in this bitch
I my dues to the fullest, worked to god damn hard
For you too the industry and leave me out of a job
You strain yourself, to maintain yourself
And now you playin with enough rope to hang yourself
But you don't care, hell, you constantly deep in the plot
from all the bitches and the money you got
You must of forgot said that rap would never last ten years
And if your selfish to the fact, I'm tryin to have a
Now here, what do we have, we got probable cause
To keep the pen on the paper and the glock in your drawers,

Remember when we used to do this shit for fun
Bein the dopest on my block made me number one
No gun, just a pen and notebook paper by the
In the crib, gettin funky off the next nigga
No to make the shit that I wrote the chronic
Shit enough to bring vomit from your stomach
Quick as a comet, shield your from the UV
Groovey, like a nigga a Batman movie
Real the shit that 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 dead
And all I ever to be was an emcee
Did a little and found it wasn't for me
Poetry flowin through my bloodstream a drug
I'm to rhyme because I love the buzz, nigga

Chorus, 2X:

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

2, MJG:

My reason for rhymin, while I'm in, a position to be
It's not 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 recorder
Jottin all the information placed in front of me
The good time, the bad time, the way I think it be
Now follow G, can you
If you can then a shot of Hen
Hit hand on your silver end
Friends don't be friends and don't be foes
However the way you bring it, that's how you 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

Verse 3,

me a crowd of wild niggaz who love real hip hop
And watched smoke get up, like water in a mop
Drop presidents among me and my own
And let that bullshit walk among the with ghosts
Ain't no hope of bein seriously
When avenues are given to me
So, naturally I take shit and shit mine
Jackin only for in this thing called rhyme
Freestyle, not great, but if you for a second
I could write some shit that could get a gold record
about not the first thing that I think about
MJG and and hard is how we comin out
Runnin out, niggaz who can't hold on like En
Even though I out the mound I'm still ten toed
Down for the shit I do, the House crew
True to shit, because this shit is so true

Chorus, 2X

End with