Sendsomeguidancefromabove
Thesepeoplegotmegotme\'
Whereisthelove?
Whereisthelove?
Whereisthelove?
Whereisthelove, thelove, mylove
When he sang this, his face suddenly changed and he turned to look at Fergie next to him.
"You sing so well, and the lyrics and music are great." Fergie was lying on the table with her chin in her hands, looking at herself with admiration, not only her, but also Cassiti and Tara who came in quietly. Ji, even the men of all ages present.
Unexpectedly, after Xiao Lizi, the second person recognized by him in the Apocalypse MV in this era was Fergie, who sleeps next to her pillow every day... Will she be popular in the future?
"What's wrong?" Fergie looked down stupidly and checked her neckline. "Did it run out just now?"
"No." Song Ya's expression is complicated. In the future, she will lose the fat of the baby, her cheeks will become thinner and her chin will become sharp...more uglier than now...
itjustain\'tthesame
oldwayshavechanged
Things are impermanent, and he feels a little lost.
"APLUS?" The people present looked at him strangely.
"Uh, nothing." He shook his head. It's not the time to struggle with this. "I'll write down the entire lyrics and music, and we'll be practicing here, just to stay until tomorrow morning."
He wrote lyrics and music on the spot and distributed them on the spot, "I am in charge of the chorus and part of the RAP, Fergie, you are in charge of Whereisthelove, thelove, mylove, Dyley, you have a paragraph, CommonSense, you have it, Al, you are in charge of the last RAP line Can it be done?"
In the original song, he replaced several terms about terrorists and the CIA, the lame gang, the blood gang, and the KKK with other terms.
Yeremov watched him write the complete lyrics and music, "Wow, oh oh, perfect song, the confused questioning of the 17-year-old boy, perfectly avoiding all specific issues, but it fits the mood of the American public now, and..."
He and Song Ya looked at each other and they knew each other. Now the battered Elephant Party would like this song that promotes introspection.
"Leave here, we will go back and record the song. It doesn't matter if it is rough, Yeremov, I want it to appear on radio stations across the meter by tomorrow night. There is also BET, and everyone else who is happy to make this song into the public eye. TV station."
Those who open a record company will not lack musical instruments. Everyone quickly enters the rehearsal state. This time even the more arrogant CommonSense was convinced by Song Ya, "You are really good, APLUS."
"I know." Song Ya replied.
In the evening, the young black men who protested and made trouble rushed to the side of Clark Street, blocked by a wall organized by Song Ya.
Music plays~www.mtlnovel.com~
Chicago 1990 Chapter 273: WGN News
"The latest news is that after a large-scale curfew in Los Angeles yesterday, the chieftain made a speech that would not tolerate'anarchy' and clearly opposed the riot. At one o'clock this morning, the governor of California announced that the power to the rioted area was cut off and formally gave The federal government requested assistance. More than 14,000 soldiers, including the 40th Infantry Division of the California National Guard, the 7th Infantry Division, and the First Marine Division of the United States, as well as 1,700 riot police and federal law enforcement personnel have been in succession. Entering rioted neighborhoods across California, the situation is initially under control."
At noon the next day, in the studio of Chicago’s WGN TV station, the black host was talking fast and reporting the latest developments. The small window screen was a bird’s-eye view of Los Angeles. Blocks of blocks were burnt to pieces by the fire. “In Chicago There have also been small-scale imitative riots in places such as San Francisco, San Francisco, New York, Las Vegas, Seattle, and Phoenix. Last night, protest crowds hit some ethnic minority areas in South City..."
The screen shifts to the local scenes of robbery and arson in Chicago. "However, at this moment when the whole country is hostile and hostile to each other, there is still a touch of humanity at Clark Street..."
The small window zoomed in, and at the entrance of Clark Street, Song Yazheng sang WhereIsTheLove that had just won the apocalypse. Blacks, whites and Asians gathered under the small stage, all staring silently at him in the center of the stage. Due to the destruction of street lights, many people spontaneously lighted candles or lighters, and the scene was dotted with warmth and harmony.
"Father, Father, Father..." The male host read the lyrics to Song Ya in a painful tone: "Please help us and give us your instructions, because the problem between people is stumping me..."
The picture cuts back to the studio. He held his forehead with his hand, sucked his nose, and then wiped away the tears from the corner of his eye, "Whereisthelove? Where is the love? In today's U.S., this is really a difficult question to answer."
The camera zoomed out, and a serious-faced Song Ya appeared beside a male and female host in the studio.
"Sorry." The male host waved his hand and returned to normal. "So, APLUS, what prompted you to appear on Clark Street last night? And wrote such a deep song."
"Emmmmm..."
Song Ya pursed his lips and pondered for a while, "How do I say it? It was almost a subconscious move. When I heard my accountant, an elderly Chinese man I respect very much, said that Chicago Chinatown might be in danger like Los Angeles. , I didn’t think about it, so I decided to use my own power to prevent such incidents from happening in Chicago..."
"Are you of Chinese descent?" the hostess asked.
"Yes, half." Song Ya replied, "but it's not just this half blood that prompted me to do what I did last night, in fact..."
The green light above the nearby camera was on. Knowing that this meant that the TV screen would switch to a close-up of his face, he immediately put his finger on his upper lip, "Actually the night before, when I saw the chaotic scene of Los Angeles on TV, I was shocked and helpless...I saw a white driver being beaten and robbed at the street, and then lying on the ground without any help."
"I also saw that the driver was rescued by an African-American pastor and is now out of danger." The white hostess said.
"Really? That's great. I blessed and prayed for the pastor. He is a man in capital." Song Ya immediately made a sign of rejoicing, full of compassion.
"You are all, APLUS." The male host smiled.
"Me?" Song Ya smiled bitterly and shook his head, "I am ashamed, you know, I became famous very early..."
"Yes, we all like your songs, since two years ago? You wrote the second-hand store, right? At least I know Chicago's second-hand store owners love you to death." The hostess laughed.
"Thank them for their love, and it is precisely because of the love of the public. I used to think I knew everything and was omnipotent." Song Ya said: "I donated money to charity organizations. I have also been to South Africa and met Mandela. Sir..."
"You are doing good APLUS." The male host said.
"but……"
Song Ya adjusted her sitting posture, tears began to flicker in her eyes, "But from the day before yesterday, I found out that I was wrong. I was too young and I didn't really understand the whole society. I was in Nancheng, where African Americans accounted for the vast majority. I spent my childhood and most of my adolescence in the slum, and then I became popular and I quickly took off my second-hand clothes, moved into a mansion, and put on expensive luxury..."
He shook the big thick gold chain around his neck. "I don't actually know how to really help others. I donated money and went to South Africa for a glimpse of shopping, and then fell into superficial self-movement and satisfaction...I Now I am ashamed of me at the time."
"You don't have to be like this APLUS." The male host wiped tears again, "you don't have to be like this."