Reason For Rhyme Lyrics

8Ball & MJG Lyrics

I'm MJG, the n***a with the versatile style
Check your calendar realize that I been here for awhile
When I was young I took the soul up out of rhythm and blues
When hip hop originated slowly paid my dues
And take my shoes, and try to walk a mile in my past
Without them salt shaker sheisters tryin to get in that a**
It's been too long, you motherf**kers fittin to feel the south
Shut your mouth, shut your do you little freak a** ho
I'm bout tired of all this damn east and west coast sh*t
Especially when other n***as tryin to work in this b*t*h
I paid my dues to the fullest, worked to god damn hard
For you too kill the industry and leave me out of a job
You n***as strain yourself, to maintain yourself
And now you playin with enough rope to actually hang yourself
But you don't care, hell, you constantly fallin deep in the plot
Mesmerized from all the b*t*hes and the money you got
You must of forgot they said that rap would never last ten years
And if your selfish to the fact, I'm tryin to have a career
Now listen here, what do we have, we got probable cause
To keep the pen on the paper and the Glock in your drawers, n***a

Remember back when we used to do this sh*t for fun
Bein the dopest on my block made me ranked number one
No gun, just a pen and notebook paper by the sheet
In the crib, gettin funky off the next n***a beat
No electronics to make the sh*t that I wrote the chronic
Sh*t sick enough to bring vomit from your stomach
Quick as a comet, shield your eyes from the UV
Groovey, like a n***a from a Batman movie
Real about the sh*t that I express over dope beats
You can't say it was fake unless you grew up on my street
Concrete head n***as, runnin from FED n***as
Po' a** scared n***as, that came out dead n***as
And all I ever wanted to be was an emcee
Did a little dirt and found it wasn't for me
Poetry flowin through my bloodstream like a drug
I'm addicted to rhyme because I love the buzz, n***a

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

My reason for rhymin, while I'm in, a position to be tellin
It's not about the fame and them b*t*hes who be yellin
At my concerts, one verse, d**ks up, quick f**k
Lies start spreadin now you tangled in a mix up
I gits up, do sits up, and squeeze my mental mindrame back in order
And use my hand as a tape recorder
Jottin down all the information placed in front of me
The good time, the bad time, the way I think it oughta be
Now follow G, can you comprehend?
If you can then drink a shot of Hen
Hit this hand on your silver end
Friends don't be friends and foes don't be foes
However the way you bring it, that's how you want it, I suppose
I can stay up out the game keep my aim on my paper
And I'll be sure to keep my pimpin real with Tony Draper
And I'll potray the man that I'm known to be
Dim the lights for the MJG

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

End with shoutouts

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