Room With A View Lyrics - Singles - Brother Ali

One side of the street is Malone's funeral home 

and the other side's a library 

try very hard to picture this shit 

walk through where I live at 

where parents are embarrassed to tell you they raise their kids at 

if you need some half and half or an eight ball you could get that 

fuck with little Rodney and you get all of your ribs cracked 

in a location where slangin' crack rock is not seen a fuckin' recreation but a vocation 

and the sellers and the smokers are both pacin' 

got one eye on Minneapolic PD they both racin' 

three for fifty is the supply and demand 

in the twin cities, American heartland 

and they been busy, masterminds tearing apart plans 

and hoop dreamers ballin' with blisters on their hands 

with chains dangling from the rims 

pain strangles them from within 

until a belt around the arm makes the veins stand at attention 

I try to block it out with a bed sheet that moonlights as a curtain 

cause I'm not comforted by red and blue lights when I'm hurting 

"Mommy loves you", yeah I knew but I wasn't certain 

cause the lenses through which she views life wasn't working 

As a boy she told me, "wait for your father to come home" 

I'm 24, still waiting for my father to come home 

And some parents only touch their children when the whips brought 

That's why bad kids to bad shit, just so they can get caught 

and get touched; this growing up shit's rough 

that's a big part of why we're so mixed up 

shit, we don't have bah mitzvahs 

we become men the first time our father hits us 

And we don't open gifts up 

Sister Regina from across the street is beautiful 

But for fifty bucks aint nothing she won't do to you 

Used to be premium pussy, now she's used up 

for that same fifty bucks she gotta do some new stuff 

Whatever it takes to make you pull the dollars out 

if you don't intervene then there's a day she'll turn her daughter out 

Speaking of kids, I'm fixing lunch for my first born 

I had the windows wide open 'cause the weather's warm 

that's when the greatest hits of Donnie Hathaway 

got interrupted by a drive-by shooting half a block away 

Faheem was I the window, he didn't get hit though 

"all praise due Allah" 

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(x3) 

I see all this from the desk that I write my rhymes from 

pen starts to scribble on it's own, my mind's numb 

but you could call me modern urban Norman Rockwell 

I paint a picture of the spot well 

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