[Verse 1: MJG, Eightball]

I'm MJG, the ^!$$% 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 $$#
It's been too long, you mother$#&@ers fittin to feel the south

Shut your mouth, shut your do you little freak $$# hoe
I'm bout tired of all this damn east and west coast %#@!
Especially when other ^!$$%z tryin to work in this (*##$

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 ^!$$%z 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 (*##$es 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, ^!$$%

Remember back when we used to do this %#@! 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 ^!$$% beat

No electronics to make the %#@! that I wrote the chronic
%#@! sick enough to bring vomit from your stomach
Quick as a comet, shield your eyes from the UV

Groovey, like a ^!$$% from a Batman movie
Real about the %#@! that I express over dope beats
You can't say it was fake unless you grew up on my street

Concrete head ^!$$%z, runnin from FED ^!$$%z,
Po' $$# scared ^!$$%z, that came out dead ^!$$%z
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, ^!$$%


[Chorus x2:]


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 ^!$$% g's

[Verse 2: MJG:]


My reason for rhymin, while I'm in, a position to be tellin
It's not about the fame and them (*##$es who be yellin

At my concerts, one verse, dicks up, quick $#&@
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 (Hip-tie) for the MJG


[Chorus x2]


[Verse 3: Eightball]

Give me a crowd of wild ^!$$%z 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 bull%#@! 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 %#@! and make %#@! mine
Jackin only for position in this thing called rhyme
Freestyle, not great, but if you wait for a second
I could write some %#@! 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, ^!$$%z who can't hold on like En Vogue
Even though I moved out the mound I'm still ten toed
Down for the %#@! I do, the Suave House crew
True to this %#@!, because this %#@! is so true


[Chorus x2:]

[End with shoutout]