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, it's 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 don't care
He's a problem child, and what bothers him all comes out, when he talks
about, his f**kin' dad walkin' out
cuz he just hates him so bad that he blocks him out. 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
let's his emotions go...
Chorus
C'mon! Sing with me (Sing!)
Sing for the year (Sing It)
Sing for the laughter
sing for the tear (C'mon!)
Sing it with me
Just for today
Maybe tomorrow
The good Lord will take you away...
Entertainment is changin', intertwinin' with gangstas, in the land of the
killers, a sinner's mind is a sanctum
holy or 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 mothaf**ka
they can be great
or they can degrate, or even worse they can teach hate
It's like these kids hang on every single statement we make, like they
worship us
plus all the stores ship us platinum, now how the F**k did this metamorphosis
happen?
>From standin' on corners and porches just rappin'; to havin' a fortune, no
more kissin' a**
But then these critics crucify you, journalists try to burn you, fans turn on
you, attorneys 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
That's why these prosecutors wanna convict me, strictly just to get me off of
these streets quickly
But all they kids be listenin' to me religiously, so I'm signin' CDs while
police fingerprint me
They're for the judge's daughter but his grudge is against me. If I'm such a
f**kin' menace, this s**t doesn't make sense B
It's all political, if my music is literal, and I'm a criminal how the f**k
can I raise a little girl?
I couldn't. I wouldn't be fit to. You're full of s**t too, Guerrera, that was
a fist that hit you!
Chorus
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 a**ault a dude, just tell the judge it
was my fault and I'll get sued
See what these kids do is hear about us totin' pistols and they want to get
one cuz they think the s**t's cool
not knowin' we really just protectin' ourselves, we entertainers, of course
the s**t's affectin' 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**ked up ain't it?
How we can come from practically nothing to being able to have any f**kin'
thing that we wanted
That's why we sing for these kids, who don't have a thing except for a dream,
and a f**kin' rap magazine
who post pin-up pictures on they walls all day long, idolize they favorite
rappers and know all they songs
Or for anyone who's ever been through s**t in their 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 nothin' to
you but we're the f**kin' s**t in they eyes
that's why we seize the moment try to freeze it and own it, squeeze it and
hold it, cuz 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...
Chorus (X2)
|
|
