Fire in the Booth

[Instrumental: "Let the Dolla Circulate" by J Dilla] This is real nigga lyrics Fake niggas can't look in real nigga mirrors I know who I am and he knows who he isn't Nan just cussed me out, said I don't even dial her digits I don't see my nan unless she gets ceviche and fishes I'm just on this money making mission Out of town, shelling down, Money Making Mitching And I've got plans to give the whole fam a bringing Wish that I could show the whole fam the big picture Cropping bruddas out if they don't play the right position I know life looks rosy from where you're probably sitting But these bucket leather seats ain't what I call winning Can't put shoes on my nephew's feet with it Can't put food in a nigga's fridge, can it? 2 2 luges make a nigga lose vision All the red on these bottoms make a nigga non-Christian Sip wine with the Mrs, break bread with my niggas Table full of winners, do dinners, group pictures With some big villains, wig splitters, brick dealers But do due diligence, not one goon with us Everyone around me boss, no seat-fillers But I am no success unless the mandem are legitimate Play Ghetts all day, then the mandem do Sizzla But they beg to differ Thank you mama for those nine months you carried me I know I can be abrupt, it's the game, don't be mad at me And Soph, I know you're worried 'bout me And I'm quick to tell you don't worry 'bout me My shoulders are for your tears, don't worry 'bout me I know it's Balmain but don't worry 'bout it This music shit's connected to my soul, my mood swings My art's a major artery, can't function without it Tryna conquer the mountain but these combos are landing Then I think I'm out of range, but these punches are Dhalsim No plaster for this pain, and I can't stand the rain But I can fucking pour more rosé I'm done with nightclub living Vodka and lems, that's the nightclub spirit I smile for the lens but these eyes say different Nice likkle legs but her eyes say mischief Too black for DSTRKT but the money too pinkish So they'll turn a non-colour blind eye for our business So we can get in long as we're spending like niggas? Just as long as we don't bring our sisters £2K table in the club, Ikea for the kitchen But know that the sparklers is a mad ting Baddest bitch, she ain't bringing nuttin' to the table But know that the back off is a mad ting Everybody gassed over the 'Gram ting Everybody banging on a gang ting Church's but still I do the Stans ting Righteous but still I do the H•A•M ting, juh! You can cut the tension with a Stanley Everybody shuffling on mandy I'm Narcos and chilling with some brandy Pukka Pie or Peter's but not Andy, my family 2016, real niggas on the flat screen Token white Charlie, Brylcreem in the family I was in the upper class queue, posh ticket Staff told me "sorry, sir, you're in the wrong position" Bigger idiot didn't say fuck all to Richard So fuck all the riches, you can't fool the pigment I know not with the MJ ting, I did moonwalk And call me a yardie but the bleaching's unusual Rappers never big up my name in interview talk So is that the Goose talk when they see me, bro? Different blokes, different strokes What you talking 'bout winners 'less we're talking 'bout business? Top proper figures, we're not cotton-picking Catch me in the field, the cheque was real If fuckers can't hear, they better feel If words don't break bones, the weapon will I'm taking my respect, better still I'll take another zero on the deal Then take some of my people to Negril Love is something deeper to instill Hate is really real Grew up eating festivals, now we eat at festivals Can I go off the record? Yeah, them records cool But I don't wanna hear it 'less it's seminal Gs move in silence, that's the veteran rules Giggs told me I was scared to bless this booth Ghetto even threw in his two pence and all But that's the banter when the legends talk Share some duppy, share, then some legs get pulled I've been duppying from Stratford Rex, of course I guess that you can call me Mr Mattress What if I told you that Twin slept on this? Not right or wrong, they write me off, I write lyrics 3000 tickets before one could even blink That's why I thinks I'm the shit Big man ting, I'm out here on a hitman ting Yeah, not a kidnap king Up and down on a wing back ting Left Harrods with the big bag ting Might catch Paddy with the big back ting Hazards on on a zig zag ting Rambo for the riff raff ting Shout K for the click clack ting Young bucks, go and spit that skin Don't come back unless you bring back sins Dish out Ls and I bring back wins You can sink or swim What's beef? That's not when you're mean That's when you cover queen, it's blackjacks with no bring-backs, king Then it's all-black suits when man sing that hymn, huh Major cloth alert, thank my tailor for the work All this fan love, got some makeup on my shirt Just know I'm making millions if I make it to a hearse Before I even make it in the dirt You can't evaluate my worth, leave that talk in the barbers Guess overestimating gets a stink's dick hard And you want man to be your bredrin, your gyal and your father? Stand on your own fucking two Balenciagas You got the blue suedes, now what'd you need from me today? Motherfuckers want their cake and to stuff their fucking face You don't know my expenses, I've gotta buy bigger plates But amazing as Heinz is, you should be buying grace There's always one Ma$e out there puffying, can't club with him Plus seven, I can't get the eighth cousin in You know them spray the champs in the air man before the bill comes They disappear, man, like say it's Old Bill but they got pills, huh Fake it 'til you make it, never that authenticated All these rappers Draking, bet he wish he had the patent Rapper think he bad, I will son him, no Jaden One million, I spray bars with no fragrance P has got them kilos on the kilo chain like Aiden AB just land, bet money man won't be so brazen Problem with the kid? Now that's a problem in the making Papapapapap and that's a big understatement It's probably nine shots like five older iPods This is not a friendly handshake after a Lord of the Mic war Let bygones be bygones cause I'm from a time, don Where pussyholes didn't have a platform to type on When mic's on, I'm icon, when mic's off, I'm icon Probably in a yardie dance whining a gyal with white on Stitchery knows what I'm on, I do not floss with diamonds If I went King of Diamonds, wouldn't make it rain with my ones I go restaurants on my ones, either Peroni or it's Merlot Never been platinum but I've probably been your girl's though Certy, money make the world go in circles Tell me how much times a feature had a better verse though? Probably two or three, one unreleased Talking Kartel level, talking 32 and G Hollow tried sneak one up on man but we'll see after some shells Just who got the upper hand, let's do the maths I've been lenging down 14 years, that's one loss every 4.6 Ballon d'Or don't see scores like this, it's Jigga statistics, taking the biscuit Teenager tell me 'bout grime, kiddo, I lived it Nearly said goodbye to the game, I might've kissed it Yeah, now I got a new singalong, I Titched it 13, I blew the candles out and wished it So still pinch myself that I've lived this Life of a non-millionaire cause I'm gifted Kanye moment coming up, I'm Prince sick That so-called fans jumping back on my Linford Still got inches spare for anyone listening Never could I diss Bizzle, he is a king of this I just wish I had a "Fester Skank" on my hitlist Colombian fit Givenchy for the winters But gas bill, catch me if you can for the winters Shh, fed up of people saying that Kano is underrated Show me who don't rate, nigga, and I'll show you who is hating 'Home Sweet Home' was my 'Off the Wall' But still, I've got a 'Thriller' in me, everybody warned Cause it's how you get up, it's not even 'bout the fall Not the most fame but they'll put me in the hall The elephant is in the room, where's the lions in this bitch? Even sleeping giants wake up and take piss Too many gangsters, not enough gentlemen Too many bosses, not enough apprentices Too many ride-alongs, not enough menaces How them young bucks gwan know not to keep evidence? Lyrics, flow, show, that's the three elements Show a man your verse, that's MC etiquette Cîroc and ginger beer, that is street decadence I'm a pie-and-mash eating, east side resident What's a grime renaissance save for my persistence? Nothing, I was in Top Boy and Lebanon Jme was flying the flag, that's evident Straight from horse's mouth like Revenant I can't run out of bars like Chippy said Many men wish on my death like 50 Cent Running through the six with my woes like Drizzy said But there's an E on the beginning of that, I represent Touch mic, I leng down dance, I'm Mr Leng Every time you see me, a new one, I'm Mr Benz Why you putting pressure on the game like this again? I had a Gareth Southgate couple summers, I've missed the pen Selfie be my circle's smaller, I'm missing friends Some Mr Men, Mr Jealous, Mr Vexed I'm Mr Everyone Went Right, I Took The Left Now whose is best, me or Wretch?