eminem
klasiklerinden bir parça. sample'ı
aerosmith'in
dream
on adlı parçasından alınmış olması lazım.
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
