[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 [bad word] out, when he talks about
His [bad word] #39; 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...

 [bad word] 
{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
 [bad word] they can be great
Or they can degrade, 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 [bad word] did this metamorphosis happen
From standin' on corners and porches just rappin'
To havin' a fortune, no more kissin' [bad word] 
But then these critics [bad word] 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 [bad word] is against me
If i'm such a [bad word] #39; menace, this [bad word] doesn't make sense Pete
It's all political, if my music is literal, and i'm a criminal how the [bad word] 
can I raise a little girl
I couldn't, I wouldn't be fit to, you're full of [bad word] too, Guerrera, that
was a fist that hit you...

 [bad word] 

[Verse 3]
They say music can alter moods and talk to you
Well can it load a gun up for you , and [bad word] 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 [bad word] #39;s cool
Not knowin' we really just protectin' ourselves, we entertainers
Of course the [bad word] #39;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 [bad word] up ain't it
How we [bad word] from practically nothing to being able to have any [bad word] #39; thing that we wanted
That's why we sing for these kids, who don't have a thing
Except for a dream, and a [bad word] #39; rap magazine
Who post pin-up pictures on their walls all day long
Idolize they favorite rappers and know all they songs
Or for anyone who's ever been through [bad word] 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 fuc