Rhyme Or Reason song by Eminem from Primary Album Album not found. The music is composed and produced by Joel. Genre is Hardcore Rap, Rap, Detroit Rap music. The Record company is unknown. Released on None.
Rhyme Or Reason Meaning
| [[Intro: Sample + Eminem] Yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah yeah (“What’s your name?”) Marshall (“Who’s your daddy?”) I don’t have one [Verse 1] My mother reproduced like the komodo dragon And had me on the back of a motorcycle, then crashed in The side of loco-motive with rap, I’m Loco, it’s like handing a psycho a loaded handgun Michelangelo with a paint gun in a tantrum ‘Bout to explode all over the canvas Back with the Yoda of rap, “In a spasm Your music usually has ’em But waned for the game your enthusiasm it hasn’t Follow you must, Rick Rubin my little Padawan.” A Jedi in training, colossal brain and Thoughts are entertainin’ But docile and impossible to explain and, I’m also vain and Probably find a way to complain about a Picasso painting Puke Skywalker, but sound like Chewbacca when I talk Full of such blind rage I need a seein’ eye dog Can’t even find the page I was writing this rhyme on Oh, it’s on the ram-page Couldn’t see what I wrote, I write small It says, “Ever since I drove a ’79 Lincoln with whitewalls Had a fire in my heart And a dire desire to aspire to Die Hard.” So as long as I’m on the clock, punching this time card Hip-hop ain’t dying on my watch , [Chorus] Now sometimes when I’m sleepin’ She comes to me in my dreams Is she taken? Is she mine? Don’t got time, don’t care, don’t have two shits to give Let me take you by the hand to promised land And threaten everyone ‘Cause there’s no rhyme or no reason for nothing [Post-Chorus: Sample + Eminem] (“Now, what’s your name?”) Marshall (“Who’s your daddy?”) I don’t know him, but I wonder— (“Is he rich like me?”) Ha (“Has he taken any time to show you what you need to live?”) [Verse 2] No, if he had He wouldn’t have ended up in these rhymes on my pad I wouldn’t be so mad, my attitude wouldn’t be so bad Yeah, Dad, I’m the epitome and the prime Example of what happens when the power of the rhyme Falls into the wrong hands and Makes you want to get up and start dancin’ Even if it is Charles Manson Who just happens to be rappin’, blue lights flashin’ Laughin’ all the way to the bank, lampin’ in my K-Mart mansion I’m in the style department With a pile in my cart, rippin’ the aisle apart but With great power comes Absolutely no responsibility for content Completely despondent and condescending The king of nonsense and controversy is on a Beat-killing spree, Your Honor I must plead guilty, ’cause I sparked a revolution Rebel without a cause who caused the evolution Of rap, to take it to the next level, boost it But several rebuked it, and whoever produced it (“Hip-hop is the Devil’s music”) Does that mean it belongs to me? ‘Cause I just happen to be a white honky devil with two horns That don’t honk but every time I speak you hear a beep But lyrically I never hear a peep, not even a whisper Rappers better stay clear of me, bitch, ’cause it’s the— , [Chorus] It’s the time of the season When hate runs high And this time, I won’t give it to you easy When I take back what’s mine With pleasured hands And torture everyone, that is my plan My job here isn’t done ‘Cause there’s no rhyme or no reason for nothing [Post-Chorus: Sample + Eminem] (“What’s your name?”) Shady (“Who’s your daddy?”) I don’t give a fuck, but I wonder (“Is he rich like me?”) Doubt it, ha (“Has he taken any time to show you what you need to live?”) [Verse 3] So, yeah, Dad—let’s walk Let’s have us a father-and-son talk But I bet we wouldn’t probably get one block Without me knocking your block off, this is all your fault Maybe that’s why I’m so bananas I a-ppealed to all those walks Of life, whoever had strife Maybe that’s what dad and son talks are like ‘Cause I related to the struggles of young America When their fucking parents were unaware of their troubles Now they’re rippin’ out their fuckin’ hair again, it’s hysterical I chuckle as everybody bloodies their bare knuckles Yeah, uh-oh, better beware, knuckle heads! The sign of my hustle says: “Don’t knock”, the door’s broken, it won’t lock It might just fly open, get cold-cocked You critics come to pay me a visit? Misery loves company, please stay a minute! Kryptonite to a hypocrite Zip your lip if you dish it but can’t take it Too busy gettin’ stoned in your glass house To kick rocks, then you wonder why I lash out Mr. Mathers as advertised on the flyers, so spread the word ‘Cause I’m promoting my passion ’til I’m passed out Completely brain-dead: Rain Man Doing a Bankhead in a restraint chair So, bitch, shoot me a look, it better be a blank stare Or get shanked in the pancreas I’m angrier than all eight other reindeer Put together with Chief Keef ’cause I hate every fuckin’ thang, yeah Even this rhyme, bitch And quit tryin’ look for a fuckin’ reason for it that ain’t there But I still am a “Criminal!” Ten-year-old degenerate grabbin’ on my genitals! The last Mathers LP done went diamond This time I’m predicting that this one will go emerald! (Hehe) When will the madness end? How can it when there’s no method to the pad and pen? The only message that I have to send Is: “Dad, I’m back at it again!” , [Outro] Bitch… (Who’s your daddy?)] |
The video shared via: Youtube
FAQ
