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MP3 Klingeltöne für Dein Handy
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Interpret:
Eminem
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| Sing For The Moment
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Verse 1
These ideas are nightmares for 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/Hes 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. If he ever saw him again hed probably knock him out/His thoughts are wacked, hes mad so hes 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. Theres no control, he just lets his emotions go...
Chorus
Cmon! Sing with me (Sing!)/Sing for the year (Sing It)/Sing for the laughter/ sing for the tear (Cmon!) / Sing it with me/Just for today/Maybe tomorrow/The good Lord will take you away...
Verse 2
Entertainment is changin, intertwinin with gangstas, in the land of the killers, a sinners mind is a sanctum/ unholy, only have one homie, only this gun, lonely cuz dont 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/Its 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 wont hesitate to produce handguns/Thats 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 Im signin CDs while police fingerprint me/Theyre for the judges daughter but his grudge is against me. If Im such a fuckin menace, this shit doesnt make sense B/Its all political, if my music is literal, and Im a criminal how the fuck can I raise a little girl?/I couldnt. I wouldnt be fit to. Youre 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 Ill get sued/See what these kids do is hear about us totin pistols and they want to get one cuz they think the shits cool/not knowin we really just protectin ourselves, we entertainers, of course the shits affectin our sales, you ignoramus/But music is reflection of self, we just explain it, and then we get our checks in the mail. Its fucked up aint it?/ How we can come from practically nothing to being able to have any fuckin thing that we wanted/Thats why we sing for these kids, who dont have a thing except for a dream, and a fuckin rap magazine/who post pin-up pictures on they walls all day long, idolize they favorite rappers and know all they songs/Or for anyone whos ever been through shit in their lives, till they sit and they cry at night wishin theyd die/Till they throw on a rap record and they sit, and they vibe. Were nothin to you but were the fuckin shit in they eyes/thats why we seize the moment try to freeze it and own it, squeeze it and hold it, cuz we consider these minutes golden/and maybe theyll admit it when were gone. Just let our spirits live on, through our lyrics that you hear in our songs and we can...
Chorus X2
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Eingetragen |
15.Jun.2002 20:06:02 |
Letzer Aufruf |
22.Oct.2004 05:10:18 |
Besucher |
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