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