TheApossal
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These ideas are nightmares to white parentsWhose worst fear is a child with dyed hair and who likes earringsLike whatever they say has no bearing, it's so scary in a house that allowsno swearingTo see him walking around with his headphones blaringAlone in his own zone, cold and he don't careHe's a problem childAnd what bothers him all comes out, when he talks aboutHis ****in' dad walkin' outCause he just hates him so bad that he blocks him outIf he ever saw him again he'd probably knock him outHis thoughts are whacked, he's mad so he's talkin' backTalkin' black, brainwashed from rock and rapHe sags his pants, do-rags and a stocking capHis step-father hit him, so he socked him back, and broke his noseHis house is a broken home, there's no control, he just let's his emotionsgo...C'mon}, sing with me, {sing}, sing for the years{Sing it}, sing for the laughter, sing for the tears, {c'mon)Sing it with me, just for today, maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take youaway...Entertainment is changin', intertwinin' with gangsta'sIn the land of the killers, a sinner's mind is a sanctumHoly or unholy, only have one homieOnly this gun, lonely cause don't anyone know meYet everybody just feels like they can relate, I guess words are amotha****a they can be greatOr they can degrate, or even worse they can teach hateIt's like these kids hang on every single statement we makeLike they worship us, plus all the stores ship us platinumNow how the **** did this metamorphosis happenFrom standin' on corners and porches just rappin'To havin' a fortune, no more kissin' assBut then these critics crucify you, journalists try to burn youFans turn on you, attorneys all want a turn at youTo get they hands on every dime you have, they want you to lose your mindevery time you madSo they can try to make you out to look like a loose cannonAny dispute won't hesitate to produce handgunsThat's why these prosecutors wanna convict me, strictly just to get me offof these streets quicklyBut all they kids be listenin' to me religiously, so i'm signin' cd's whilepolice fingerprint meThey're for the judge's daughter but his grudge is against meIf i'm such a ****in' menace, this shit doesn't make sense BIt's all political, if my music is literal, and i'm a criminal how the ****can I raise a little girlI couldn't, I wouldn't be fit to, you're full of shit too, Guerrera, thatwas a fist that hit youThey say music can alter moods and talk to youWell can it load a gun up for you , and **** it tooWell if it can, then the next time you assault a dudeJust tell the judge it was my fault and i'll get suedSee what these kids do is hear about us totin' pistolsAnd they want to get one cause they think the shit's coolNot knowin' we really just protectin' ourselves, we entertainersOf course the shit's affectin' our sales, you ignoramusBut music is reflection of self, we just explain it, and then we get ourchecks in the mailIt's ****ed up ain't itHow we can come from practically nothing to being able to have any ****in'thing that we wantedThat's why we sing for these kids, who don't have a thingExcept for a dream, and a ****in' rap magazineWho post pin-up pictures on their walls all day longIdolize they favorite rappers and know all their songsOr for anyone who's ever been through shit in their livesTill they sit and they cry at night wishin' they'd dieTill they throw on a rap record and they sit, and they vibeWe're nothin' to you but we're the ****in' shit in they eyesThat's why we seize the moment try to freeze it and own it, squeeze it andhold itCause we consider these minutes goldenAnd maybe they'll admit it when we're goneJust let our spirits live on, through our lyrics that you hear in oursongs and we can...
