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Tom: Fm

Verse #1 
Fm                     D#  
 These ideas are nightmares for white parents 
       C#               D#         
Whose worst fear is a child with dyed hair and who likes earrings 
Fm                  Gm  
Like whatever they say has no bearing 
     G#                         Bb   
Its so scary in a house that allows no swearing 
    Fm                              D#  
To see him walking around with his headphones blaring 
  C#                    D#
Alone in his own zone, cold in his own paries 
         Fm                            Gm
He's a problem child, what bothers him all comes out 
            G#                   Bb
When he talks about his fuckin' dad walkin out 
        Fm                     D#
Cos he hates him so bad that he blocks him out 
          C#                                D#
But if he ever saw him again, he'd prolly knock him out 
                   Fm                       Gm 
His thoughts are whacked, he's mad so he's talkin' back 
       G#                       Bb
Talkin black, brainwashed from rock and rap 
             Fm                   D#
He sags his pants, 2 rags and a stocking cap 
      C#                     D#   
His step-father hit him so he socked him back 
               Fm                     Gm 
And broke his nose, this house is a broken home 
               G#                      Bb
There's no control, he just lets his emotions go 

Come on... 

Chorus: 
Fm           D#      
Sing with me,  sing for the year 
C#                     D#
 Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear 
Fm            Gm 
 Sing with me, just for today 
 G#            Bb                             C-C# C-C# C-C#~~~   
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away 





Verse #2 
 
Fm D# C# D#   Fm Gm G# Bb  (im Wechsel durch den Text siehe Verse 1)   

Entertainment is danger, intertwine it with gansters 
In the land of the killers, a sinner's mind is a sanctum 
Only you're unholy, only have one homey 
Only this gun, lonely, cuz you only need one homey 
But everybody just feels like they can relate 
I guess the world saw a motherfucker, they can be great 
Or they can be great, 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 metamorphasis 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 gonna turn it to 
To get their 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 canon 
You need to spew, dont hesitate to produce air-guns 
Thats why these prosecutors wanna convict me 
Swiftly just to get me offa these streets quickly 
But all their kids been 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 doesnt make sense, Pete 
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: 
Fm           D#      
Sing with me,  sing for the year 
C#                     D#
 Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear 
Fm            Gm 
 Sing with me, just for today 
 G#            Bb                             C-C# C-C# C-C#~~~   
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away 

Verse #3  
 
Fm D# C# D#   Fm Gm G# Bb   (im Wechsel durch den Text siehe Verse 1)   

They say music can alter moods and talk to you 
But can it load a gun 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 toting pistols 
And they want to get one, cos they think the 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 cheques 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 
Idolise their favourite rappers and know all they songs 
Or for anyone who's ever been through shit in they lives 
So they sit and they cry at night, wishing they 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 sieze 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 out lyrics that you hear in our songs 
And we can 

Chorus: 2x  (2. Chorus ohne drums)
Fm           D#      
Sing with me,  sing for the year 
C#                     D#
 Sing for the laughter, sing for the tear 
Fm            Gm 
 Sing with me, just for today 
 G#            Bb                             C-C# C-C# C-C#~~~   
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you away 

Solo to fade: 
 
Fm  D#  C#  D#   Fm  Gm  G#  Bb 
    
Fm  D#  C#  D#   Fm  Gm  G#  Bb     
 
C-C# C-C# C-C#~~~   (repeat)