IRC-Galleria

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
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, what bothers him all comes out
When he talks about his fuckin' dad walkin' 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 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, this house is a broken home
There's no control, he just let's his emotion go

I guess words are a motherfucka, they can be great
Or they can be degrate, or even worse, they can teach hate

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 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 shit's cool