Вчера по MTV крутили, вот и подобрал от нечего делать. А вообще, это вторая
песня (текст??) Эминема, которая мне понравилась. Странно…
Вся песня играется следующими аккордами:
Fm(8) D#(6) C#(4) D#(6)
Fm(1) Gm(3) G#(4) A#(6)
(цифра после аккорда означает, с какого лада его играть. Вообще, в принципе, кто умеет,
могут и первую часть играть как Fm(1) D#(3) C#(1) D#(3), но это довольно сложно, так
что начинающим порекомендую играть как я написал выше.)
Аккорды рисовать не буду — для этого есть генератор, зря что ли люди старались? =)
Да, в конце припева еще идет H. Проигрывать лучше легким перебором,
то бишь Fm (4-3-2-1) D# (4-3-2-1) etc., цифры — это номер струны, 1 — самая тонкая.:).
Вот текст, если кому интересно:
Verse 1
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 fuckin´ dad walkin´ out/cuz he just 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, his house is a broken home. There´s
no control, he just let´s his emotions go…
Chorus
C´mon! Sing with me (Sing!)/Sing for the year (Sing It)/Sing for the laughter/ sing for
the tear (C´mon!) / Sing it with me/Just for today/Maybe tomorrow/The good Lord will
take you away…
Verse 2
Entertainment is changin´, intertwinin´ with gangstas, in the land of the killers, a
sinner´s mind is a sanctum/ unholy, only have one homie, only this gun, lonely cuz don´t
anyone know me/Yet everybody just feels like they can relate, I guess words are a
mothafucka they can be great/ or they can degrate, 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 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, attorneys all
want a turn at you/To get they 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 cannon. Any
dispute won´t hesitate to produce handguns/That´s why these prosecutors wanna convict me,
strictly just to get me off of these streets quickly/But all they kids be listenin´ to me
religiously, so I´m signin´ CDs while police fingerprint me/They´re for the judge´s
daughter but his grudge is against me. If I´m such a fuckin´ menace, this shit doesn´t
make sense B/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
Verse 3
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 cuz they think the shit´s cool/not knowin´ we really just
protectin´ ourselves, we entertainers, of course the shit´s affectin´ our sales, you
ignoramus/But music is reflection of self, we just explain it, and then we get our checks
in the mail. It´s fucked up ain´t it?/ How we can come from practically nothing to being
able to have any fuckin´ thing that we wanted/That´s why we sing for these kids, who
don´t have a thing except for a dream, and a fuckin´ rap magazine/who post pin-up
pictures on they walls all day long, idolize they favorite rappers and know all they
songs/Or for anyone who´s ever been through shit in their lives, till they sit and they
cry at night wishin´ they´d die/Till they throw on a rap record and they sit, and they
vibe. We´re nothin´ to you but we´re the fuckin´ shit in they eyes/that´s why we seize
the moment try to freeze it and own it, squeeze it and hold it, cuz 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…
Chorus X2
(Альбом THE EMINEM SHOW, 2002)
