[Verse 1 - MJG, Eightball:]
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I'm MJG, the nigga with the versatile style
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Check your calendar realize that I been here for awhile
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When I was young I took the soul up out of rhythm and blues
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When hip hop originated slowly paid my dues
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And take my shoes, and try to walk a mile in my past
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Without them salt shaker sheisters tryin to get in that ass
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It's been too long, you motherfuckers fittin to feel the south
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Shut your mouth, shut your do you little freak ass hoe
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I'm bout tired of all this damn east and west coast shit
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Especially when other niggaz tryin to work in this bitch
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I paid my dues to the fullest, worked to god damn hard
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For you too kill the industry and leave me out of a job
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You niggaz strain yourself, to maintain yourself
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And now you playin with enough rope to actually hang yourself
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But you don't care, hell, you constantly fallin deep in the plot
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Mesmerized from all the bitches and the money you got
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You must of forgot they said that rap would never last ten years
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And if your selfish to the fact, I'm tryin to have a career
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Now listen here, what do we have, we got probable cause
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To keep the pen on the paper and the glock in your drawers, nigga
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Remember back when we used to do this shit for fun
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Bein the dopest on my block made me ranked number one
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No gun, just a pen and notebook paper by the sheet
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In the crib, gettin funky off the next nigga beat
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No electronics to make the shit that I wrote the chronic
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Shit sick enough to bring vomit from your stomach
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Quick as a comet, shield your eyes from the UV
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Groovey, like a nigga from a Batman movie
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Real about the shit that I express over dope beats
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You can't say it was fake unless you grew up on my street
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Concrete head niggaz, runnin from FED niggaz,
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Po' ass scared niggaz, that came out dead niggaz
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And all I ever wanted to be was an emcee
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Did a little dirt and found it wasn't for me
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Poetry flowin through my bloodstream like a drug
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I'm addicted to rhyme because I love the buzz, nigga
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[Chorus - Repeat 2X:]
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My reason for rhyme
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Because I'm true to this rap
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My reason for rhyme
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Because I'm real with this rap
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My reason for rhyme
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It ain't all about the cheese
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Even though fat lp's can make a nigga g's
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[Verse 2 - MJG:]
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My reason for rhymin, while I'm in, a position to be tellin
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It's not about the fame and them bitches who be yellin
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At my concerts, one verse, dicks up, quick fuck
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Lies start spreadin now you tangled in a mix up
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I gits up, do sits up, and squeeze my mental mindrame back in order
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And use my hand as a tape recorder
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Jottin down all the information placed in front of me
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The good time, the bad time, the way I think it oughta be
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Now follow G, can you comprehend?
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If you can then drink a shot of Hen
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Hit this hand on your silver end
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Friends don't be friends and foes don't be foes
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However the way you bring it, that's how you want it, I suppose
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I can stay up out the game keep my aim on my paper
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And I'll be sure to keep my pimpin real with Tony Draper
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And I'll potray the man that I'm known to be
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Dim the lights (Hip-tie) for the MJG
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[Chorus - Repeat 2X]
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[Verse 3 - Eightball:]
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Give me a crowd of wild niggaz who love real hip hop
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And watched smoke get soaked up, like water in a mop
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Drop presidents among me and my own folk
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And let that bullshit walk among the past with ghosts
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Ain't no hope of bein takin seriously
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When limited avenues are given to me
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So, naturally I take shit and make shit mine
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Jackin only for position in this thing called rhyme
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Freestyle, not great, but if you wait for a second
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I could write some shit down that could get a gold record
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Thought about not the first thing that I think about
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MJG and Eightball and hard is how we comin out
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Runnin out, niggaz who can't hold on like En Vogue
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Even though I moved out the mound I'm still ten toed
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Down for the shit I do, the Suave House crew
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True to this shit, because this shit is so true
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[Chorus - Repeat 2X]
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[End with shoutouts]
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Reason For Rhyme
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| 8Ball & MJG |
