Love On Display - Brother Ali

We move all the merch, CDs and shirts

For you, this is a game but for me this is work

I punch in ha, when I step on the stage

I get paid when my record is played

Word to Printmatic

I’m a poetry chick magnet

With Goldie the pimp habits

I roll with a limb that is

Droven Omaha, flowin' for hick ass kids

Knowin' I was zonin' at the moment I hit that shit (I love y’all)

Kris references and no one will get that shit

I even make the best of it and go home and slit my wrists

Imagine what a trip it is, rappin' for little shits

Who think that DJin' was created by Mr. Dibbs

Remember this, those are the main ones that show us support

So I owe them my existence and shit so

I got to thank them, my home is broken ain’t it?

I downloaded parents cause I heard they’re overrated

I pushed a demo tape when the group was first created

Younger Brother was the debut album when they made it

E!

Behind The Music, believe that I’ve been through it

I either write the true shit or feel my life is useless

You should, do this, math with me right quick dog

I cry myself to sleep when the lights get soft

Tour twice, in the spring and the fall

Ten weeks each my son doesn’t see me at all

Now out of 12 months daddy’s gone for 5

Spot dates in the mix, I’m absent for 6

So I’m a half ass daddy

Part time singer

Half ass crazy, got my wife feelin' half single

In New Jersey, bitchin' with the word play

About how my parents raised me in the worst way possible

Doin' what I gotta do

And tryin' to get a rap or two

Missin' my own son’s third birthday

I’m a self centered piece of shit

Stomped down hypocrite

Tryin' to get a grip on it but now I got to live with it

This is me motherfucker, I’m a mean mugger

Not intentionally brother, I was tryin' to see somethin'

I never drive because I’m legally blind

All I can do is describe what I see in my mind

People are fine until they peep a weakness of mine

Then they fuck me over so I need to leave them behind

Shit’s real

My wrist is still stiff from my last hook

Cat learned how to scrap just by gettin' his ass whupped

I’ll catch an elbow and that shit will just hurt

So I swing mine the next time I get in some dirt

And that works

And that’s why Murs is the homie

Because the brothers ain’t scared to dig out spurs in the moment

My recipe for greatness, there is no depleting this

Because the active ingredient in it is my weaknesses

I speak with this little drawl that the Midwest created

When they treat someone like shit for a decade

Anthony can’t chirp, flare or backspin

But he’ll listen to my fucked up life without laughin'

I’m challenged and offended by sheets of blank paper

Who act like they are too good to carry my strange flavor

Painstakingly, suffice is to say

I ain’t scared to put my motherfuckin' life on display