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?)