Eminem - Sing for the Moment

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, and what bothers him all comes out
When he talks about his fucking 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 whacked, he's mad, so he's talking back,
Talking 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.
There's no control - he just lets his emotions go.

Sing with me,
Sing for the year,
Sing for the laughter,
Sing for tear.
Sing with me, just for today.
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord take you away.

Entertainment is changing, intertwining with gangsters.
In the land of the killers, a sinner's 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 motherfucker, they can be great.
Or they can degrade.
Or even worse, they can teach hate.
It's 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 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 their hands on every dime you have.
They want you to lose your mind every time you're 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 want to convict me:
Strictly just to get me off of these streets quickly,
But all their kids be 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, 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, Guererra, that was a fist that hit you!

Sing with me,
Sing for the year,
Sing for the laughter,
Sing for tear.
Sing with me, just for today.
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord take you away.

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 toting pistols,
And they want to get one 'cause they think the shit's cool,
Not knowing we're really just protecting ourselves.
We're entertainers, of course the shit's affecting our sales,
You ignoramus.
But music is just reflection of self.
We just explain it, and then we get our checks in the mail.
It's fucked up, ain't it, that we can from from practically nothing,
To being able to have any fucking thing that we wanted.
That's why we sing for these kids who don't have a thing,
Except for a dream and a fucking rap magazine,
Who post pin-up pictures on their walls, all day long
Idolize their favorite rappers and know all their songs.
Or for anyone who's ever been through shit in their lives,
Till they sit and they cry at night, wishing they'd die
Till they throw on a rap record, then they sit and they vibe.
We're nothing to you, but we're the fucking shit in their eyes!
That's why we seize the moment, try to freeze it and own it,
Squeeze it and hold it, 'cause we consider these minutes golden.
And maybe they'll admit it when we're gone.
Just let our spirits live on through our lyrics that you hear in our songs.
And we can -

Sing with me,
Sing for the year,
Sing for the laughter,
Sing for tear.
Sing with me, just for today.
Maybe tomorrow, the good Lord take you away.