Rhyme Or Reason Songtext / Lyric

(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 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 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 are 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 a 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, don't care, don't have 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?) Ha-ha

(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 rapping, blue lights flashing

Laughing all the way to the bank, lamping in 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 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...



It's the time of the season, when hate runs high

And this time, 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 always so bananas, I appeal to all those walks

Of like, 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 ripping out their fucking hair again, it's hysterical

I chuckle, cause everybody bloodies their bare knuckles, yeah, uh-oh

Better beware knuckleheads, the sound of my hustle says don't knock

The doors broken, it won't lock, it might just fly open, get cold cocked

You critics come 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 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 til I'm passed out

A completely brain dead Rainman, going a bankhead in a restraint chair

So bitch, if you 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