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Artist: Eminem
Album:  The Marshall Mathers LP 2
Song:   Rhyme or Reason
Typed by: 

Yeah yeah
Yeah, yeah yeah

{"What's your name?"} Marshall
{"Who's your dad-your daddy?"} I don't have one
My mother reproduced like the 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 handin 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 'em
But waned for the game your enthusiasm it hasn't
Follow you must, Rick Rubin my little Padawan"
A Jedi in trainin
Colossal brain and, thoughts of entertainin
But docile and impossible to explain and, I'm also vain and
probably find a way to complain about a Picasso paintin
Puke Skywalker, but sound like Chewbacca when I talk
Full of such blind rage, I need a seein eye dog
Can't even find the page I was writin this rhyme on
Oh, it's on the ram-page, 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 punchin this time card
hip-hop ain't dyin on my watch

[Chorus: Eminem - singing to the tune of "Time of the Season"]
Now sometimes, when I'm sleepin, she comes to me in my dreams
Is she taken? (Is she taken?) Is she mine? (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 (haha)
Cause there's no rhyme, or no reason, for no-thing!
Now {"What's your name?"} Marshall
{"Who's your daddy?"} I don't know him, but I wonder
{"Is he rich like me?"} Haha
{"Does he take up (does he take up) 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 wanna get up and start dancin
even if it is Charles Manson
who just happens to be rappin, blue lights flashin
Laughin all the way to the bank, lamping in my K-Mart mansion
I'm in the style department
with a pile in my cart, rippin the aisle apart but
With great power comes absolutely no responsiblity for content
Completely despondent and condescending
The king of nonsense and controversy is on a
beat-killin spree, Your Honor, I must
plead guilty, cause I sparked the
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 honkey 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

[Chorus: Eminem - singing to the tune of "Time of the Season"]
It's the time (time) of the season (of the season) when hate runs high (high)
And this time, 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 (haha) my job here isn't done (haha)
Cause there's no rhyme, or no reason, for no-thing!
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, haha
{"Does he take up (does he take up) 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 wouldn't probably get one BLOCK
without me knockin your block OFF, this is all your FAULT!
Maybe that's why
I'm so bananas, I ap-peeled to all those walks of life
whoever had strife
Maybe that's what dad and son talks are like
Cause I, related to the struggles
of young America when their fuckin parents were unaware of their troubles
Now they're rippin out their fuckin hair again, it's hyster-ical
I chuckle, as everybody bloodies their bare knuckles
Yeah, uh-oh, better beware knuckle-
-heads, the sign on 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 can't take it, too busy gettin
stoned in your glass house
to kick rocks, then you wonder why I lash out
Mr. Mathers as advertised on the flyers
so spread the word cause I'm promotin my passion 'til I'm passed out
Completely brain-dead, Rain Man
doin the Bankhead 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 other reindeer
put together with Chief Keef cause I hate every fuckin thing, yeah!
Even this rhyme bitch
And quit tryin to look for a fuckin reason for it that ain't there
And I still am a CRIMINAL!
10 year-old degenerate grabbin on my GENITALS!
The last Mathers LP done went diamond
This time I'm predictin that this one'll go EMERALD!
Ha, 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 send
is dad, I'm back at it again
Yeah {"Who's your daddy?"}