Fire in the Booth lyrics

[Instrumental: "Let the Dolla Circulate" by J Dilla]
This is real n*gga lyrics
Fake n*ggas can't look in real n*gga 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 n*gga's fridge, can it?
2 2 luges make a n*gga lose vision
All the red on these bottoms make a n*gga non-Christian
Sip wine with the Mrs, break bread with my n*ggas
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 sh*t'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 f*cking 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 n*ggas?
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 b*tch, 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 n*ggas 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 f*ck all to Richard
So f*ck 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 f*ckers 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 sh*t
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 di*k hard
And you want man to be your bredrin, your gyal and your father?
Stand on your own f*cking two Balenciagas
You got the blue suedes, now what'd you need from me today?
Motherf*ckers want their cake and to stuff their f*cking 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 pus*yholes 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, n*gga, 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 b*tch?
Even sleeping giants wake up and take p*ss
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?