Answer
|
these
|
ideas
|
are,
|
nightmares
|
to
|
white
|
parents
|
whose
|
worse
|
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
|
walking
|
out.
|
cause
|
he
|
hates
|
him
|
so
|
bad
|
that
|
he,
|
blocks
|
him
|
out.
|
If
|
he
|
ever
|
saw
|
him
|
again
|
he'd
|
probably
|
knock
|
him
|
out!
|
His
|
thoughts
|
are
|
wacked,
|
he's
|
mad
|
so
|
he's
|
talking
|
back
|
talking
|
black,
|
brainwashed
|
from
|
rock
|
and
|
rap.
|
he
|
sags
|
his
|
pants,
|
doo-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!
|
Sing
|
with
|
me,
|
sing
|
for
|
the
|
year
|
sing
|
for
|
the
|
laughter,
|
sing
|
for
|
the
|
tears.
|
Sing
|
it
|
with
|
me,
|
just
|
for
|
today.
|
Maybe
|
tomorrow,
|
the
|
good
|
lord
|
will
|
take
|
you
|
away.
|
Entertainment
|
is
|
changing,
|
intertwining
|
with
|
gangsters.
|
In
|
the
|
land
|
of
|
the
|
killers
|
a
|
sinners
|
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
|
motherfucka,
|
they
|
can
|
be
|
great
|
or
|
they
|
can
|
degrade,
|
or
|
even
|
worse,
|
they
|
can
|
teach
|
hate.
|
It's
|
like
|
these
|
kids
|
hang
|
on
|
every
|
statement
|
we
|
make,
|
like
|
they
|
worship
|
us,
|
plus
|
all
|
the
|
stores
|
ship
|
us
|
platinum.
|
Now
|
how
|
the
|
fuck
|
did
|
this
|
metamorphosis
|
happen?
|
From
|
standing
|
on
|
corners
|
and
|
porches
|
just
|
rapping,
|
to
|
having
|
a
|
fortune,
|
no
|
more
|
kissing
|
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
|
their
|
kids
|
been
|
listening
|
to
|
me
|
religiously.
|
So
|
I'm
|
signing
|
CD's
|
while
|
police
|
fingerprint
|
me.
|
They're
|
for
|
the
|
judge's
|
daughter
|
but
|
his
|
grudge
|
is
|
against
|
me.
|
If
|
I'm
|
such
|
a
|
fucking
|
menace
|
this
|
shit
|
doesn't
|
make
|
sense
|
B.
|
It's
|
all
|
political,
|
if
|
my
|
music
|
is
|
literal
|
then
|
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!
|
Sing
|
with
|
me,
|
sing
|
for
|
the
|
year.
|
Sing
|
for
|
the
|
laughter,
|
sing
|
for
|
the
|
tears.
|
Sing
|
it
|
with
|
me,
|
just
|
for
|
today.
|
Maybe
|
tomorrow,
|
the
|
good
|
lord
|
will
|
take
|
you
|
away!
|
|