Room With a View

[Brother Ali]
One side of the street, is Malone's Funeral Home and the
Other side the library, try very hard to picture this shit
Walk through where I live at
Where parents are embarassed to tell you they raise they kids at
You'll need some half and half of an 8-ball you can get that
Fuck with Little Rodney and you'll get all of your ribs cracked
In a location where slanging crack rock is not seen as a fuckin' recreation but a vocation
And the sellers and smokers are both pacing
Got one eye on Minneapolis P.T. they both racin'
3 for 50 is the supply and demand, and the
Twin Cities' American heartland, and they
Been busy, masterminds tearing apart plans
And hoop dreamers ballin' with blisters on they hands
With chains danglin' from the rims
Pain strangles 'em from within
Till' the belt around the arm makes the veins stand at attention

I try to block it out with a bed sheet, the moonlights as a curtain
Cause I'm not comforted by red and blue lights when I'm hurtin'
Mommy loves you yeah I knew but I wasn't certain
Cause the lenses through which she views life wasn't workin'
As a boy she told me "wait til' your father to come home"
I'm 24 still waitin' for my father to come home
And some parents only touch they children when a whips brought
That's why bad kids do bad shit, just so they could get caught
And get touched, this growing up shit's rough
That's a big part of why were so mixed up
Shit we don't have Bar Mitzvah's
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 50 bucks ain't nothing she won't do to you
Used to be premium pussy now she used up
For that same 50 bucks she got to do some new stuff
Whatever it takes for you to 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 in the window, he didn't get hit though
All praise to Allah

[Hook](3x)
I see all this from the desk that I write my rhymes from
Pen starts to scribble on it's own my minds numb
But you can call me modern urban Norman Rockwell
I paint a picture of the spot well