Luyện nghe bài hát Reason For Rhyme

Verse 1, MJG,

I'm MJG, the nigga with the versatile
Check your realize that I been here for awhile
When I was young I took the soul up out of and blues
When hip hop slowly paid 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 freak ass hoe
I'm tired of all this damn east and west coast shit
Especially when other niggaz tryin to work in 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 strain yourself, to maintain
And now you playin with enough to actually hang yourself
But you don't care, hell, you constantly fallin deep in the
Mesmerized from all the and the money 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 cause
To the pen on the paper and the glock 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 paper by the sheet
In the crib, gettin funky off the nigga beat
No electronics to make the that I wrote the chronic
Shit sick enough to bring vomit from stomach
as a comet, shield your eyes from the UV
Groovey, a nigga from a Batman movie
Real about the that I express over dope beats
You say it was fake unless you grew up on my street
Concrete head niggaz, from FED niggaz,
Po' ass scared niggaz, that came out niggaz
And all I ever to be was an emcee
Did a little and found 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
Because I'm with this rap
My for rhyme
It all about the cheese
Even though fat lp's can make a g's

2, MJG:

My for rhymin, while I'm in, a position to be tellin
It's not about the fame and 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 mindrame back in order
And use my hand as a tape
down 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 silver end
Friends don't be friends and foes don't be
However the way you bring it, that's how you it, I suppose
I can stay up out the 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 wild niggaz who real hip hop
And watched smoke get soaked up, like in a mop
Drop presidents me and my own folk
And let bullshit walk among the past with ghosts
Ain't no hope of takin seriously
limited 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 wait for a
I could write some shit down that could get a gold
Thought not the first thing that I think about
MJG and Eightball and hard is how we out
Runnin out, niggaz who can't hold on En Vogue
Even though I moved out the mound I'm ten toed
Down for the shit I do, the House crew
True to this shit, because this shit is so

Chorus, 2X

End with