These ideas are nightmares to white parents Whose worst fear is a child with dyed hair and who likes earrings Like whatever they say has no bearing Its so scary in a house that allows no swearing To see him walking around with his headphones blaring Alone in his own zone, cold and he dont care He's a problem child, and what bothers him all comes out When he talks about his f*ckin' dad walkin' out Cuz he just hates him so bad that he blocks him out But if he ever saw him again, he'd probably knock him out His thoughts are wacked, he's mad so he's talkin' back Talkin black, brainwashed from rock and rap He sags his pants, do-rags and a stocking cap His step-father hit him so he socked him back And broke his nose, his house is a broken home There's no control, he just lets his emotions go Come on...
Chorus: Sing with me, sing for the year Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear Sing with me now, just for today Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away
Verse #2 Entertainment is changing, intertwinin' with gangsters In the land of the killers, a sinner's mind is a sanctum Only an unholy, only have one homie, Only this gun, lonely cuz don't anyone know me Yet everybody just feels like they can relate I guess words are a motherf*cka, they can be great Or they can degrate, or even worse, they can teach hate Its like kids hang on every single statement we make Like they worship us, plus all the stores ship us platinum Now how the f*ck did this metamorphosis happen? From standin' on corners and porches just rappin' To havin' a fortune, no more kissin' ass But then these critics crucify you, journalists try to burn you Fans turn on you, attorney's all want a turn at you To get they hands on every dime you have They want you to lose your mind every time you mad So they can try to make you out to look like a loose cannon Any dispute won't hesitate to produce handguns Thats why these prosecutors wanna convict me Strictly just to get me offa these streets quickly But all their kids be listen'n to me religiously So i'm signing cds while police fingerprint me They're for the judges daughter, but his grudge is against me If i'm such a f*ckin' menace, this shit doesnÂ’t make sense, B It's all political, if my music is literal and i'm a criminal, How the f*ck can i raise a little girl? I couldn't. i wouldn't be fit to You're full of shit too, Guerrera, that was a fist that hit you!
Verse #3 They say music can alter moods and talk to you Well can it load a gun up for you and cock it too? Well if it can, then the next time you assault a dude Just tell the judge it was my fault, and IÂ’ll get sued See what these kids do, is hear about us totin' pistols And they want to get one, cos they think this shit's cool Not knowin' we're really just protectin' ourselves We're entertainers; of course this shit's affecting our sales You ignoramus. but music is reflection of self We just explain it, and then we get our checks in the mail It's f*cked up ain't it, how we can come from practically nothin' To bein' able to have any f*ckin' thing that we wanted It's why we sing for these kids that don't have a thing Except for a dream and a f*cking rap magazine Who post pinup pictures on their walls all day long Idolize their favorite rappers and know all they songs Or for anyone who's ever been through shit in they lives Till they sit and they cry at night, wishin they'd die Till they throw on a rap record, and they sit and they vibe We're nothing to you, but we're the f*ckin' shit in their eyes That's why we seize the moment, and try to freeze it and own it Squeeze it and hold it, 'cos we consider these minutes golden And maybe they'll admit it when we're gone Just let our spirits live on, through our lyrics that you hear in our songs And we can
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