Fire in The Booth Part 4

[Intro] Yo, listen Ten year anniversary, Akala [Verse 1 ] Uncle Akala, the FlowFather You already know that I’m smarter than Arthur The darker the shit get, harder I spit yet Fools want to act like they can’t get a quick death How many careers have been ended In the time that I’ve only ascended? Just telling things how they are Now why would the truth be offensive? I was independent when everybody signed Still independent, respect my grind Own my own masters, know what that mean? Understand back catalogue or are you green, seen? Means that my kids have a pension I ain’t got kids just thought I would mention See my intention, mangle a mention Murder a syllable and strangle a sentence Stand to attention, all of your henchmen Still couldn’t bench him, cause he’s too heavyweight brethren Like old school jungle selection, come through humble a veteran Ten years since the first album Ten years no daytime radio Ten years still touring that's real supporters We all know why they don’t play me though I’m that rapper, rap about matters that actually matter Challenging power, what? Every single tour is ten percent more Now why do you think that happens? Content matters, albums matter Songs they matter, lyrics they matter Integrity matters, flows it matter It’s word to Skiba we deal with the matter No industry hype, just write what I like This is Steve Biko with the mic, this iron mic Iron Mike wouldn't like cause a fight is a roll of the dice Like rolling on knives, organs openly sliced Cold, I told you the price Colder than ice, nah, colder than life Living in a warzone, hold my advice Take shortcuts and get cut short Long road, hard road but more sure Road tour that I’m doing at the end of the year Should make all this clear Some only get visibility Some silly fool called me a failure I smiled to myself, these times I was on a plane to Australia Sold out shows on the other side of the globe But fools only know what’s in front of their nose So they stunt, pose but they can’t sell shows ‘Cause their music is poo and they got no flow, I know You might be astonished, dog shit cannot be polished No matter how you push it on the public, son You cannot make them love it, son You know how many rappers can pack out a venue at Addis Ababa Guess what? It was the only one Bob Marley ever did play in Africa You write raps, I write history on the page And quite literally, an elder statesman to my own generation An inspiration cause the flows that I came with is a solo play by Miles Davis Who don’t know he’s the greatest? So if Charlie tells anybody else their fire in the booth is the best there’s been Is he high? Does he lie? Nah, he knows that I’m in my own league [Verse 2] I’m judged totally separate If we are actually going on the evidence You wanna be a foe? Do you know what the level is? You wanna be a pro? Can you roll with the cleverest? Genius, I know it Kinda like a road side thug yet a poet Kinda like a warrior, kinda like a scholar But I can be an asshole, don’t make me show it I know a certain kind of supporters Don’t like it when I get this boasty You think that I care? All that show, you don’t really know me See, I’m an arrogant fuck on the mic I am not humble, I’m only nice in real life Who wants an MC that does not think they’re the shit? That defeats the whole point - combat sport's this rap stuff That’s why a man gets slapped when he act up They cannot catch us, they will get backed up You can feel the energy coming through the chakras No aggression, the hood’s not listening Cause aggression is what they’re living in So I keep spittin’ it, everyday I’m spinning ‘em Call me Akala, there is no synonym Nobody’s similar, not the same I rap about life, they rap about chains Yet, we all get dough and we all drive Mercs All do festivals, all get work We don’t all lecture at Oxford with a hoodie on Cause I got no response for their nonsense Don’t all do education in warzones, man are shook to go Peckham Despite all the big talk They would not walk in half of the places I step in Catch me in anyone’s hood on my own Kids act like they seen a ghost I’m like little bro, "I’m thirty-two years old, you think I care about a postcode?" I am not invincible, I could get removed from the physical But if I get murked, probably be political Cause the things that come out of my mouth is a madness I am a rebellious bastard with no respect for authority So I don’t suggest that you follow me It’s true this could all end horribly But I’ll still be the anomaly, an entrepreneur [Verse 3] I don’t say it cause it sounds cool, it’s actually true Ain’t got a diamond chain, I admit it But I do got an office with employees in it Do take youngsters all around the globe Get them paid for their brain and their lyrics While our media want to still paint us like we are just nothing but crooks Along comes one so cool He can make it cool to rap about books And you can think that’s neeky and stupid But all that shows that you’re clueless Cause the global revenue for books every year is like ten times more than music Hmmmm, now I have sold how many books? And self-publish, how does that look? For those that only respect cheques Swear the accountant ain’t cookin’ the books, son And I don’t even think that capitalism should decide how you rate a rap on a rhythm That is the age we’re living in, isn’t it? It’s all about materialism More important than any paper debt, do you check for the youthdem? Let’s see, any one of them little thugs right there He could have been me, he could have been me It could have been me [Verse 4] Fifteen, I was in chimes[?] and trends Coliseum way back then surrounded by big men In the clap of a skeng You know what was being smoked in green, but everybody pretends This time I kicked ball for the Hammers Weed and the girls put a spanner in the matters Fact of the matter is, lost my discipline Late night bredrin, whip with a stick in it He took it from under his dad’s mattress I never grew up with dad, who’s better off? Complicated, I’m undercompensating Everybody talks road, I let ‘em fake it My olders would organize crime, they lick banks So I ain’t gassed when you say you bag grams Badman, what's that? Madman, stop that They manufacture gats, we just pop that They import, export, we just shot that Hustle, I ain’t saying I knock that I’m just saying we should see it’s deliberate And by now we should all be sick of it I’m working on ways to get rid of it Mass incarceration, ridiculous So I go to jail and I chat to the mandem Fire in the Booth Part 1 What I rapped them? Explaining the system and how it will trap them Action more than rap then, hmm All my Fire in the Booths, they have been studied as texts By countless PhDs ‘round the globe My youth now have some respect And they still bang on the block, from Brixton to Brooklyn Palestine to West Papua But despite all the personal comfort, I still feel sick when I think of the massacres The world is fucked There is enough to go around, but we are ruled by -(cunts)- "There he goes preaching again Akala, Stick to the script, just stunt Tell ‘em about your whip, brand new something and sit How many girls wanna... Well cuz’, come on, let’s be honest I was not ugly before this shit [Verse 5] So you can imagine, but the brain power you cannot fathom I mean it truly from the bottom of my heart Though please jump on the bandwagon I’ve made it cool to be conscious again, say thanks Cause I know that you’ve got more sense I know that you know yourself When you are sat down with your gran and her friends That’s our culture, respect for the olders If you snort coke then we call you a cokehead, no biggie Want to rap with Akala? So silly I’m like my gran’s name, so Millie Ten years first album, ten years no daytime play But in October we’re selling out KOKO Come along learn about a show and a stage No hype man, no cupping a mic Musicians and visuals all mixed right And like forty songs squeezed into an hour and a half The supporters actually like Consistency matters the rest is just package Imagining these rappers is tragic Sitting at home, having to watch me They’re like, "I swear its black magic, yeah, black magic, Griot, tradition of the rappers I studied my craft, you mandem are slackers Bow in the presence of greatness Cause you’re only trained to rate fakeness Love that I get is so overwhelming I don’t even see no haters, yeah Few men have got more status, but which one has more respect? That’s what I thought, Akala’s the one that they still can’t get [Verse 6] Cause I’m like Dennis Brown meets DMX I’m like Shabba and Brockie and Det Burning down old school, Stratford Rex I feel sorry for whoever comes next That’s like running after Usain Bolt That’s like singing after John Holt That’s like trying to floss on the Pope He’s so beyond money he tries to act broke I’m like every book written at once So I got the youths’ head fucked like Skunk Little bit of reggae mixed with a bit of punk And the discipline of a Buddhist monk Like, how it feels when you come she comes at the same time, now you are one Oof, you would swear there’s a god when you’re done Even if you don’t believe in one, son All of my children have left the building Charlie can’t have them back, cause I have killed ‘em If I don’t feel them, they ain’t real then Fate is sealed then Just don’t deliberate over the Illa State soldier The middle weight roller, didn't we take over? Didn’t we take over? The middle weight roller The Illa State soldier, deliberate over [Verse 7] Lines that I rhyme with a force So hard it’s separating your mind from your thoughts Know that I am inclined to divorce Your little big mouth from the height of your horse See it’s a sign of the times that we walk Those that talk sense get outlined in chalk Those that talk shit get a line of support Right round the block for the minds that they bought For the dominant philosophy, the legal armed robbery The global monopoly that’s fucking up the only planet that we got If I had my way I’d tell the truth, I’d let them rot But unfortunately, it’s not, fuck off This is so easy I love this shit but I’m almost bored I could write one of these every month But to give them a chance I only wrote four, cor [Verse 8] Man are not training They’re not ready for the levels of Shaolin That’s almost an hour of bars, my dog None of which is on my albums And I got six, and I write books and plays and scripts Still find time to go teach in the bits Who told you that he’s not the shit? Well, a bloody liar he is [Verse 9] A wha' dis? Dis lickle idiot try chat to me, you know me can't feel it A boy try swarm me Your eyes, dem tarly too damn big for your belly Not on your nellie, not on your life Could you find one to touch him on the mic? Yeah right Imagine a famous rapper from the States barrin’ for ten minutes straight With the bloody cheek to do it double time, every time How much piss does he take? Knows that he’s great, knows that you’re fake Knows that he won’t ever barf on your mate Knows that you’re late Look how they anticipate every word that I say when I speak Cause it’s the knowledge of Timbuktu Mixed with the slang of a London youth Adding in the heart and the soul of blues My youth, now how can I not go true? Half of a cracker, plus half of a coon Half of a celt, plus half a maroon If I'm feeling anything that’s close to half-hearted You’re half more than half doomed Half of my tune contains more content than every single thing you’d ever do Gassin’ is easy, but only a few can spit content and still slew I’m sure you noticed it’s true, true One of them is not you You wot? [Verse 10] You wanna have a barney? With the magic mountain machine gun army? With the only one that is channeling Marley? You watch rappers while I’m studying Garvey Left that, we can all see who’s the best at You came for connect four, I came for a chess match Not the same league, even the same sport Literally hundreds of stamps in the passport Not the same league, even the same sport Literally hundreds of stamps in the passport And I ain’t diss black women, to make my livin’ So who’s more successful then him? Yeah I got love in my heart But it’s not all peace and love, nah nah are you kidding? Yes there are things worth killing and dying for Ends ain’t one of them tho, why you lying for? Now if a man runs in your house Thumps your mum on the side of her mouth Who in the right mind wouldn’t understand why you ended up taking him out? Yes, love is not soft or sorry Love is so tough it can make your mum catch a body Love’s the only thing worth killing and dying for That’s what I’ve learned in my time on this Earth Think that I’m wrong? Go to a lifer’s wing Look the mandem in the eyes Done that many times, got one too many rhymes The London in my lines, a dungeon for these guys Questioned them to find, a hundred at a time Muster and define, the cusp of what is rhyme Clutchin’ and I climb, I pop the level line Was always at the top, but now they recognize Trust that you recline when I go double time The flow is so ridiculous, I be the prophesised Guys are ill-advised to dive into a fight With I, the wicked eye, you will never get a blight -Ruins Of Empire Piece- [Verse 11] And it seems I was there Where? Everywhere Every battle ever fought Every stab, every shot Through the ages of humans, this killing machine I could feel everything though It wasn’t a dream I was every soldier that had ever fought With a shield and a sword All the blood ever drawn From a dagger, or a bayonet An axe that will slay your neck Automatic gats that clap only spraying, death I was in a tank that exploded in Iraq In a drive-by in gang wars spraying out of cars I was in ‘Nam, dropping napalm, but it burned my skin I was also Viet Minh I was an Italian massacring Ethiopians But the bullets only pierced my flesh because I was both of them I could feel every single wound of the flesh But also the pleasure of causing the death I was a soldier of the Caliphate on a crusade, a killer Using Christ in exactly the same way I was every woman ever killed in a witch hunt Or every little girl forced to grow with a split soul Cause men like to snip clits and zip bits closed So the rape feels nice Before they take my life I was fighting for liberation, a woman and general Bringing death to cowards that sold my genitals One moment I killed to be freed The next, I was a monarch that killed for my greed Thutmose the Third Alexander the Fake Caesar, Napoleon, Francis Drake The arms of the state, the armies that are great But I was also the resistance that’s hardly ever praised I was every indigenous person of America That died trying to protect their homes from a predator Then the robe-cladden Roman senator And every noble that showed you the ways of the treacherous I was in the Belgian Congo hacking off limbs In Rwanda, Akazu doing the same thing I was a Japanese general occupying the Philippines A Filipino child too young to know what it means I was at Sharpeville, I was just two My mother, with a bullet in her head, and I knew Barely out of her womb, I played with her wound I knew life was a cycle, she’ll be back soon I was a soldier of Ashanti resisting the British But at the same time still selling humans to the Dutch If you’re honest with yourself and you look back through human history you’d see that we’re totally fucked Cause I was that little girl in that church in Alabama Then a grand-wizard, then Margaret Sanger Then I was Paul Warfield Tibbets Jr Feeling just fine in a B-29 I did my job One-hundred thousand dead -(Greasy. Yellow. Japs)- I went home to relax Then I was every child ever born with deformed limbs Cause they were just pawns on a board to inform kings I saw sharks following ships, intrigued by the trail that comes overboard I saw sharks following the ship I was on I knew then that it couldn’t be long We had tried to get free But as if that were wrong We were thrown overboard from the deck of the Zong So many bodies that the sharks couldn’t finish the flesh It took the waves to administer death And I joined the rest at the bottom of the sea The uncounted millions that dreamed to be free The next minute I was back on a ship This time as a soldier of the French Right off the coast of Haiti we made a gas chamber for African rebels, I couldn’t deal with the stench Then my head was chopped off By one of Dessalines’ henchmen He gave the order for killing all Frenchmen Then all I could see was pyramids Can you see? Designed by man's mind but built by his greed The strangest pyramids, I ever did see Was not built by stones, but the bones of families