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, 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 fuckin' dad walkin' out
Cause 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 whacked, 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

* {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 you away

Entertainment is 
changin', intertwinin' with gangsta's
In the land of the killers, a sinner's 
mind is a sanctum
Holy or unholy, only have one homie
Only this gun, 
lonely cause 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' 
ass
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' cd's 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 shit 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 shit too, Guerrera, that was a fist that hit 
you

[Repeat *]

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 cause they think the shit's cool
Not knowin' we really 
just protectin' ourselves, we entertainers
Of course the shit'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 their 
walls all day long
Idolize they favorite rappers and know all their 
songs
Or for anyone who's ever been through shit 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' shit 
in they eyes
That's why we seize the moment try to freeze it and own it, 
squeeze it and hold it
Cause 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

[Repeat * , *]