Eminem - Dream On Lyrics
These ideas are nightmares for white parentsWhose worst fear is a child with dyed hair and who likes earringsLike whatever they say has no bearingIts so scary in a house that allows no swearingTo see him walking around with his headphones blaringAlone in his own zone cold, and he dont careHe's a problem child, what bothers him all comes outWhen he talks about his *****in' dad walkin outCos he hates him so bad that he blocks him outBut if he ever saw him again, he'd prolly knock him outHis thoughts are whacked, he's mad so he's talkin' backTalkin black, brainwashed from rock and rapHe sags his pants, Do rags and a stocking capHis step-father hit him so he socked him backAnd broke his nose, his house is a broken homeThere's no control, he just lets his emotions goCome on...Chorus:Sing with me, sing for the yearSing for the laughter, sing for the tearSing with me, just for todayMaybe tomorrow, the good Lord will take you awayVerse #2Entertainment is changing, intertwining with gangstersIn the land of the killers, a sinner's mind is a sanctumOnly you're unholy, only have one homeyOnly this gun, lonely, cuz don't anyone know meBut everybody just feels like they can relateI guess words are a mother*****er, they can be greatOr they can be degrate, or even worse, they can teach hateIts like these kids hang on every single statement we makeLike they worship us, plus all the stores ship us platinumNow how the ***** did this metamorphosis happen?From standin' on corners and porches just rappin'To havin' a fortune, no more kissin' assBut then these critics crucify you, journalists try to burn youFans turn on you, attorney's all wanna turn at youTo get their hands on every dime you haveThey want you to lose your mind every time you madSo they can try to make you out to look like a loose cannonAny dispute won't hesitate to produce handgunsThats why these prosecutors wanna convict meStrictly just to get me offa these streets quicklyBut all their kids be listen'n to me religiouslySo i'm signing cds while police fingerprint meThey're for the judges daughter, but his grudge is against meIf i'm such a *****in' menace, this shit doesnt make sense, BIt's all political, if my music is literal and i'm a criminal,How the ***** can i raise a little girl?I couldn't. i wouldn't be fit toYou're full of shit too, Guerrera, that was a fist that hit you!ChorusVerse #3They say music can alter moods and talk to youBut can it load a gun up for you and ***** it too?Well if it can, then the next time you assault a dudeJust tell the judge it was my fault, and Ill get suedSee what these kids do, is hear about us toting pistolsAnd they want to get one, cos they think the shit's coolNot knowin' we're really just protectin' ourselvesWe entertainers; of course this shit's affecting our selvesYou ignoramus. but music is reflection of selfWe just explain it, and then we get our checks in the mailIt's *****ed up ain't it, how we can come from practically nothin'To bein' able to have any *****in' thing that we wantedIt's why we sing for these kids that don't have a thingExcept for a dream and a *****ing rap magazineWho post pinup pictures on their walls all day longIdolize their favorite rappers and know all they songsOr for anyone who's ever been through shit in they livesSo they sit and they cry at night, wishing they dieTill they throw on a rap record, and they sit and they vibeWe're nothing to you, but we're the *****in' shit in their eyesThat's why we seize the moment, and try to freeze it and own itSqueeze it and hold it, 'cos we consider these minutes goldenAnd maybe they'll admit it when we're goneJust let our spirits live on, through the lyrics that you hear in our songsAnd we canChorusChorus without BeatInstrumental
