[Verse 1]
  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...
    [Chorus]
  {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...
    [Verse 2]
  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
  mothafucka 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 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, 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 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 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 fucked up ain't it
  How we can come from practically nothing to being able to have any fuckin'
  thing that we wanted
  That's why we sing for these kids, who don't have a thing
  Except for a dream, and a fuckin' 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 fuckin' 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 so we can...
    [CHORUS X2]
    [ Thanks Laci for correction ]