歌曲 | I Don't Care |
歌手 | Us3 |
专辑 | Say What!? |
He was raised by the radio and television | |
To earn his loot shoplifting and he's selling ism | |
He never knew any better that's the way he's living | |
You see his father's not around 'cause he went to prison | |
He's got a mind state torn in a civil war | |
And he's gonna solve all his problems at the liquor store | |
He does what he wants, you tell him that it's immature | |
But you can't handle all the places that he's been before | |
Like watching his brother die from a stray bullet | |
Trying to live a short life to the very fullest | |
Gold chains, he's got a Range Rover with rims | |
He's got a new leather jacket and a closet of Tims | |
It's the American nightmare and you might care | |
But he's a cold calculating con artist | |
He's like, ‽Yeah? Come over hereâ€, bang and it's over tonight, yeah | |
I guess you had it coming 'cause nobody here fights fair | |
He's walking down the bombed out blocks without cops | |
And gets props for telling fiends where to cop rocks | |
Trust is a luxury and he's too cheap | |
'Cause his moms is checking his pockets whenever he sleeps | |
He's got a chip on his shoulder, a monkey on his back | |
He needs to smoke weed so he started selling crack | |
He's living in the struggle, he's used to despair | |
You can look into his eyes and he's never scared, he's thinking | |
I don't care | |
She ran away from the pain at an early age | |
From a father with a problem and a dirty place | |
She tried school but the bars made it like a cage | |
And she could make mad money from a pretty face | |
Without a pimp she was raped by a group of guys | |
And they laughed when she cried out to the sky | |
But the stars and the heavens never intervened | |
Now she's got a son even though she's seventeen | |
In the scene she's a queen but it doesn't last | |
When her boyfriends start paying her with crack | |
In her dreams she can fly, now it's more than that | |
She gets high every time she gets on her back | |
Now the drug keeps calling, she can't escape | |
Nobody wants to keep paying her the same rate | |
Because it's not the same face, not the same waist | |
But she needs even more of the same base | |
She was forced to find a way to satisfy the urge | |
She starts selling every gift that she ever earned | |
And then she turns every trick that she's ever learned | |
Lighting up the glass pipe until her fingers burned | |
She's a fiend for the rock and she can't stop | |
She tries to sell her own son when goes to cop | |
And all the guys stop calling and they don't stare | |
She's got a Jones for the dope and she won't share, she's thinking | |
I don't care |
He was raised by the radio and television | |
To earn his loot shoplifting and he' s selling ism | |
He never knew any better that' s the way he' s living | |
You see his father' s not around ' cause he went to prison | |
He' s got a mind state torn in a civil war | |
And he' s gonna solve all his problems at the liquor store | |
He does what he wants, you tell him that it' s immature | |
But you can' t handle all the places that he' s been before | |
Like watching his brother die from a stray bullet | |
Trying to live a short life to the very fullest | |
Gold chains, he' s got a Range Rover with rims | |
He' s got a new leather jacket and a closet of Tims | |
It' s the American nightmare and you might care | |
But he' s a cold calculating con artist | |
He' s like, Yeah? Come over here, bang and it' s over tonight, yeah | |
I guess you had it coming ' cause nobody here fights fair | |
He' s walking down the bombed out blocks without cops | |
And gets props for telling fiends where to cop rocks | |
Trust is a luxury and he' s too cheap | |
' Cause his moms is checking his pockets whenever he sleeps | |
He' s got a chip on his shoulder, a monkey on his back | |
He needs to smoke weed so he started selling crack | |
He' s living in the struggle, he' s used to despair | |
You can look into his eyes and he' s never scared, he' s thinking | |
I don' t care | |
She ran away from the pain at an early age | |
From a father with a problem and a dirty place | |
She tried school but the bars made it like a cage | |
And she could make mad money from a pretty face | |
Without a pimp she was raped by a group of guys | |
And they laughed when she cried out to the sky | |
But the stars and the heavens never intervened | |
Now she' s got a son even though she' s seventeen | |
In the scene she' s a queen but it doesn' t last | |
When her boyfriends start paying her with crack | |
In her dreams she can fly, now it' s more than that | |
She gets high every time she gets on her back | |
Now the drug keeps calling, she can' t escape | |
Nobody wants to keep paying her the same rate | |
Because it' s not the same face, not the same waist | |
But she needs even more of the same base | |
She was forced to find a way to satisfy the urge | |
She starts selling every gift that she ever earned | |
And then she turns every trick that she' s ever learned | |
Lighting up the glass pipe until her fingers burned | |
She' s a fiend for the rock and she can' t stop | |
She tries to sell her own son when goes to cop | |
And all the guys stop calling and they don' t stare | |
She' s got a Jones for the dope and she won' t share, she' s thinking | |
I don' t care |