(Sing it) Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears (sing that shit) You're full of shit too, Guerrera, that was a fist that hit you It's all political, if my music is literalĪnd I'm a criminal, how the fuck can I raise a little girl? If I'm such a fuckin' menace, this shit doesn't make sense, B They're for the judges daughter, but his grudge is against me So I'm signing CD's while police fingerprint me Strictly just to get me off of these streets quicklyīut all they kids be listenin' to me religiously That's why these prosecutors wanna convict me So they can try to make you out to look like a loose canonĪny dispute, won't hesitate to produce handguns They want you to lose your mind every time you mad To get their hands on every dime you have Now how the fuck did this metamorphosis happen?įrom standin' on corners and porches just rappin'īut then these critics crucify you, journalists try to burn youįans turn on you, attorneys all want a turn at you Like they worship us, plus all the stores ship us platinum It's like these kids hang on every single statement we make Or they can degrade, or even worse, they can teach hate I guess words are a motherfucker, they can be great Yet everybody just feels like they can relate Only this gun, lonely, 'cause don't anyone know me In the land of the killers, a sinner's mind is a sanctum Maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you awayĮntertainment is changin', intertwinig' with gangsters (Sing it) Sing for the laughter, sing for the tears (come on) (Come on) Sing with me, (sing), sing for the years There's no control, he just let's his emotions go His stepfather hit him so he socked him backĪnd broke his nose, this house is a broken home He sags his pants, durags and a stocking cap Talkin' black, brainwashed from rock and rap His thoughts are whacked, he's mad so he's talkin' back If he ever saw him again, he'd probably knock him out 'Cause he hates him so bad that he blocks him out When he talks about his fuckin' dad walkin' out He's a problem child, what bothers him all comes out To see him walking around with his headphones blarin'Īlone in his own zone, cold and he don't care It's so scary in a house that allows no swearing Whose worst fear is a child with dyed hair and who likes earrings These ideas are nightmares to white parents
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