Open the doors, let the people innTurn up the mics, let me speak to themnVictorious when the evening endsnIt all starts when the beat beginsnn[ VERSE 1: Brother Ali ]nYou're now fuckin with the show stoppernA-l-i the Brother, since '89's the numbernFuck another summer, I'm the world's most accuratenTake the roughest cats and get em passionatenShake awake the walking dead LazarusnWith off-the-head narratives, it'm embarrassingnI mean, I'm the albino but y'all pale in comparisonnI'm not arrogant, oh shit, well yeah, I'm arrogantnGrab the microphone out your arm so fast I tear a limbnRoman fashion, give yo soul a spasmnIf you don't know find someone that knows and ask himnI'm right in front of ya, tight muthafuckin mic muzzlernWho might struggle ya, my shit's wild like thatnThere's 8 million ways to stretch words around beatsnAnd 6 million rappers be sharin the same threenBut me takin the time to be creative with minenTouch your soul till I see it in your face when I rhymenAnd in the two or three seconds it may take to rewindnI hold a rapper to the flames until I make him resignnWant nobody hold your place in this rhyme, you find a space to reclinenYou're dead, got to stay breakin your spinenn[ CHORUS ]nEvery father, mother, son and daughter send em to menDo not approach the ock without bendin your kneesnI might be on the stage but my head's in the streetsnWe settle the beef (when the beats commence) --> Run-DMCnn[ VERSE 2: Brother Ali ]nLadies and gentlemen, Brother Ali bare the resemblencenOf Moses freein y'all with sentences, vocabulary venomousnTelling domestic horror storiesnNon-fiction with the majestic oratorynInstead of concentratin on strippin the youth nakednI give em the truth naked, livin proof for the sacrednUnless I'm mistaken there's like three kind of peoplenBlack people and white people and my peoplenI blister MC's and let em' twist in the breezenI got a funny knack for bringin kids to their kneesnY'all got Christopher Reeve-sized bravery tryin to play with menHave you in fetal positions shoutin Get away from me!nEvery day I see rappers I wanna slap or stranglenAround they neck disaster dangles, so that's the anglenNext millennium, same percentage of em are weaknY'all thinkin y'all can rhyme, don't even come from the streetsnYou got any sense at all, you mean-mug and retreatnOr end up a human pinada hung from your feetnWhen I told you you were tight I had my tongue in my cheeknAnd you ain't lookin at my team, buddy, our huddle is deepnBorn to hustle on beats, I just have it withinnIf I had any more potential I would have to be twinsnCackle and grin when rappers begin to babble and spit awaynY'all should pick a day, the it-day, the off-the-ick daynn[ CHORUS ]nn[ VERSE 3: Brother Ali ]nI'm a desperado, but I guess that y'all know that alreadynMy stick-and-move flow pattern steadynThe Bro has already dissed rappers of every racenGot em together for a We Are the World remakenIf Ali's fake please take this opportunity to tell henTo his face, get your infrastructure erasednWhen I flip damn it I'm fly, kick sand in your eyenAnd tell your record company to eat a shit sandwich and dienAli's a big teddybearnTill they scream, Stop slammin the car door, that's my fuckin head in there!nYour teeth are everywhere, I serve your familynAnd write about it in my journal like I'm Mister BelvederenI seldom stare in the sky, only at nighttimenEnvision endin your mission when I write rhymesnHistory's never witnessed a mission quite like minenAnd the more they try to extinguish it, the more the light shinesnn[ CHORUS ]