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 fuckin' 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 motherfucka, 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 fuck 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 fuckin' menace, this shit doesn’t make sense, B

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

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 I’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 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

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 fuckin' 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 



Chorus



Chorus without Beat