Rhyme Or Reason

Yeah, yeah Yeah, yeah, yeah (What's your name?) (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 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 promise land And threaten everyone 'Cause there's no rhyme or no reason for nothing Now (what's your name?) Marshall (what's your name?) (Who's your daddy?) (Who's your daddy?) I don't know him, but I wonder (Is he rich like me) Has he taken (has he taken), any time (any time) (To show) 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, lampin' in my K-Mart mansion I'm in the style department with a pile in my car, ripping 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- 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) 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 So (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 (has he taken), any time (any time) (To show) 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 sign 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, Rain Man Doing 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 tryin' 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 (who's your daddy?)