Rhyme Or Reason

What's your name?

Marshall

Who's your daddy?

I don't have one

My mother reproduced like a komodo dragon

And had me on the back of a motorcycle

Then crashed in the side of a locomotive with rap, I'm loco

It's like handing a psycho a loaded handgun

Michelangelo with a paint gun in a tantrum

About to explode all over the canvas

Back with the Yoda of rap in a spasm

Your music usually has them

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 of entertaining

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 seeing eye dog

Can't even find the page I was writing this rhyme on

Oh, it's on the rampage, couldn't see what I wrote, I write small

It says ever since I drove a '79 Lincoln with white walls

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

But sometimes, when I'm sleeping, she comes to me in my dreams

Is she taken? Is she mine?

Don't got, I don't care, don't got two shits to give

Let me take you by the hand to promise land

And threaten everyone 'cause there's no rhyme or no reason for nothing

What's your name?

Marshall

Who's your daddy?

I don't know him, but I wonder is he rich like me?

Has he taken any time to show you what you need to live?

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 dancing

Even if it is Charles Manson who just happens to be rappin'

Blue lights flashing, laughing all the way to the bank

Lamping at my K-mart mansion, I'm in the style department

With a pile in my car, ripping the aisle apart

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, plea

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) Is that me?

It belongs to me 'cause I just happen to be

A white honkey devil with two homes

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

Time of the season, when hate runs high

And this time I'll 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

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?

So yeah, dad, let's walk

Let's have us a father and son talk

But I bet we probably wouldn't get one block

Without me knocking your block off

This is all your fault

Maybe that's why I'm so bananas

I appeal to all those walks of life

Whoever had strife

Maybe that's what dad and son talks are like

'Cause I related to the struggle of young America

When their fucking parents were unaware of the troubles

Now they're ripping out their fucking hair again

It's a stare ruckle, I chuckle

'Cause everybody bloodies their bare knuckles

Yeah, uh oh, better beware knuckleheads

The sound 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 I can't take it

Too busy getting stoned in your glass house

To kick rocks, then you wonder why I lash out

Mister Mathers as advertised on the flyers

So spread the word cause I'm promoting my passion till I'm passed out

Completely brain dead Rainman

Doing a bank head 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 of the reindeer put together with Chief Keef

'Cause I hate every fucking thing, yeah

Even this rhyme, bitch, and quit tryna look

For a fucking reason for it that ain't there

But I still am a criminal

Ten year old degenerate grabbing on my genitals

The last Mathers LP that went diamond

This time I'm predicting this one will go emerald

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 sing is

Dad, I'm back at it again, bitch