Reasons

I'm respected in this game, I've rocked every spot I've been in While you can't show your face like Islamic women rocking linen But I'm stuck living in mom's house without a fucking bed Cause these major labels put out wack emcees like Pumpkinhead So I ain't touching bread, I've been ducking feds Ain't even hustle for myself, I spent it on some cunt instead Got nothing left, every breath is harder than the last When success seems out of reach, slipping farther in the past That's why I'm trashed, sparking up this hash in a session Packing up more angel dust than the attic in heaven That's why I'm pissed off like having a bladder infection With broken catheters left in my dick when I have an erection It got me liable to snap in a matter of seconds Pulling Mac-11s like Pun from the back of an Acura Legend I just think of my future, past and the present Try to capture the essence and find some sort of lasting impression But all I found's a corrupt cop's act of aggression Grabbing me and smashing my head in with the back of his weapon That's why I'm beyond the blessings of a Catholic confession And why I take cash when the plate's passed for collection I've had it with being the illest rapper to step in Lacking success in the game when dudes bite like they don't have a reflection I've had it with these labels so I'm breaking the mold Cause they ain't just taking creative control, they're taking my soul! The reason I'm a liar, the reason I'm a thief The reason that I steal, the reason that I cheat Is the reason you avoid me when I'm walking down the street And it's probably the same reason I'll end up deceased The reason I'm a liar, the reason I'm a thief The reason that I steal, the reason that I cheat Is the reason that I wild out and riot in the street And it's the same reason my fucking life will never have peace Yo I think about Hip-Hop and how they just take it away Cause I grew up when Wu-Tang got rotational radio play But nowadays if I say shit I'm nothing but a hater Til I pull a rusty razor and cut your face, like "fuck your paper!" Maybe I'm mad cause labels use food stamps to pay me But I can't be only one who'd rather hear Boot Camp than Jay-Z So yeah, I'm underground and my fans are backpackers But at least my fans don't buy mixtapes full of wack rappers I can't front, I listen when I'm in the club grabbing tits and The bass is so loud I don't hear the trash you're spittin' All that glamour, glitz and packs of crack you're flipping Won't be real 'til you stop bragging and say it was a bad decision If you're anything like me, you're poor with a tortured past Getting beat by pigs because your pants are half off your ass Ain't tossin' cash in photographs with some camera crew You was black and blue in handcuffs on New York Avenue That's the truth, that's the reason I'm almost suicidal Feeling out of place like Muslims with a Jewish bible Been taking drama from my baby mama, now my mind is gone Weight of the world's on my shoulders, and eight planets piled on Rifle drawn, pointed at the cops when you calling them Six million ways to die, I'll try all of them Holding a Glock and squeezing until they stop my breathing I know I'm crazy, don't ask me why, I got my reasons