Verse #1 These ideas are nightmares for 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, what bothers him all comes out When he talks about his fuckin' dad walkin out Cos he hates him so bad that he blocks him out But if he ever saw him again, he'd prolly knock him out His thoughts are whacked, he's mad so he's talkin' back Talkin black, brainwashed from rock and rap He sags his pants, 2 rags and a stocking cap His step-father hit him so he socked him back And broke his nose, this 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,just for today Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away Verse #2 Entertainment is danger, intertwine it with gansters In the land of the killers, a sinner's mind is a sanctum Only you're unholy, only have one homey Only this gun, lonely, cuz don't anyone know me But everybody just feels like they can relate I guess words are a motherfucker, they can be great Or they can be great, 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 fuck did this metamorphasis 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 gonna turn it to To get their 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 canon You need to spew, dont hesitate to produce air-guns Thats why these prosecutors wanna convict me Swiftly just to get me offa these streets quickly But all their kids been 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 fuckin' menace, this shit doesnt make sense, Pete It's all political, if my music is literal and i'm a criminal, How the fuck 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! Chorus Verse #3 They say music can alter moods and talk to you But can it load a gun 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 i'll get sued See what these kids do, is hear about us toting pistols And they want to get one, cos they think the 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 cheques in the mail It's fucked up ain't it, how we can come from practically nothin' To bein' able to have any fuckin' thing that we wanted It's why we sing for these kids that don't have a thing Except for a dream and a fucking rap magazine Who post pinup pictures on their walls all day long Idolise their favourite rappers and know all they songs Or for anyone who's ever been through shit in they lives So they sit and they cry at night, wishing they die Till they throw on a rap record, and they sit and they vibe We're nothing to you, but we're the fuckin' shit in their eyes That's why we sieze 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 out lyrics that you hear in our songs And we can Chorus Chorus Without Beat Instrumental
