Lowkey - Fire in the Booth lyrics

Whether you're in HMV or KFC, HMP or A&E I make them see a-n-d. let you know the c-a-s-e From LDN not NYC, on the m-i-c I'm M.I.B., Like BIG the MVP, VIP to the e-n-d E.g., my CD, is way to d-e-e-p That goes for your TV screen, DVD or BBC ITN or ITV, C-O-Ps say "ID please" S-t-o-p like IC3, wanna see me hooked to an IV, g In the ICU but Im n-o-t, they went OT with the m-o-b Can't see me through the f-o-g Don't cuss mothers of S.O.B's These MC's are OAPs Wanna hype up I'm like "okay, g." You think you're b-a-d Get a p-e-n and a p-a-d If the CIA and the FBI, the MI6 and the MI5 Jump on the A3 then I drive, turn up the A/C, FYI MJ like P.Y.T,, lol I never T.Y.P I e-a-t on E.I.D, twist the C.I.D like Levi Jeans D-i-e like BNP; EDL just BFG's. Youths don't want no GCSE's they want C.O.D. on the PS3 I'm like DP, or PE, or KRS from BDP Download this on your MP3 Send it to your MP & MTV You're not on this thing like A.D.D Your CD I rate PG Like KKK's with AK's My A.K.A is AA Take you off the road ASAP DDT these JLS MC's What you just saw basically Is how to murder the ABC's Cause I'm back in the booth Rappers wanna chat about the strap they got stashed in the back of their boot But I chat to the youths Abstract or back-packed my attributes and stack to the roof I capture the truth Pour it on tracks with my views, and I'll sell it out the back of the boot I'm positive you're negative, you're whack and confused I'm back and the fact is your dad's in the room Ain't a track that you rappers can battle with Every track that I spat is immaculate Any track that I smash, I'm attacking it Heard you rap fam, your tracks are inadequate Your CD was cack, it was crap, I'm dashing it You follow fashion with rap, I'm pa**ionate Blood start's splashing - your whip - you dash in it Said you were packing a mac in the back of it Kizzy, I'm busy, I'm really a brilliant guy It's gritty and sh**ty but really the city is mine If you diss me, pity the silly billy to try From Bricky to Piccadilly to Mississippi I'm live Getting rid of you Milli Vanilli's, gimme the vibe Get jiggy like Willy spitting the wittiest rhymes Uncivilised, ignorant, diligent type And I victimise an idiot a million times Hey hey, we ray rays will spray flames Take snakes off the road like AA So waste brays, vacate, and make space You bait fakes ain't straight, you stay fake We chase papes, you chase dames like 'Babes wait!' On a lay-lay you date rape to save face In the same place, we maintain and ain't changed We make tapes that rake papes like Kay-Slay Don't dismiss or diss this we live this from Lisbon to Ipswich For instance the dick's got your sister addicted Oh look, big tits came for a quick fix You're limper than Bizkit you nitwits A monster, a beast, when I stomp on the beat If the nonsense you speak is not gonna cease Unconscious but leave unconscious MCs Don't respond to the beef if your nonces or neeks Get ill up on the rhythm when I k** 'em on a lyrical Finish up my dinner then I drill 'em with a syllable Don't really care what you did and what you didn't do Little fools are minuscule, spitting isn't difficult You find your mind cause I'm out of mine f** a pound sign, came for the crown of grime I told you once, I told you a thousand times I'm a fountain of acid, you're alkaline You alcoholics are out of line Got a mountain to climb if your mouth is lying Bow to his highness, I'm bound to shine Let me coach you on vocals and how to rhyme Think I'm vexed with your indirects If I spit rhymes next I will slit five necks I'm a big time threat, to your pissed sly vets This guy lives life inside stress I'm the best in the game, not impressed with the fame I'm testing my aim if I send for your name The successful are lame, they kept it the same But whatever the weather, it's destined to change Couldn't give a f** for your creps and your chains You slobber on the mic like a sket giving brain I'm mental, deranged, crush temples and frames My pencil will end you like petrol and flames Burn like syphilis, you nerds are privileged When I die you can say that you heard the sickest spit My verse it limitless, the earth is spinning quick Pure words of wickedness that I merk the rhythm with Heard you were good, It's a shame that you're not Don't care about your chain or the fame that you got Keep my name on your brain cause I came for your spot What you're making is pot, they say it's a lot You're whack bro with your cat flow But you're whack though put your cap low Prat go back home This monster is stronger than Castro's backbone I attack those little fat bowcats so... Don't ever get arrogant Don't start panicking, phone your management Mumbling, man are in the manor getting mad again Don't care about your swagger, mandem, or medallion What's the matter then, maggot where's your magnum? When there's beef, mandem are missing like Madeleine I've been badder than you and your bag of men What's happening when I k** 'em with a pad and pen Ain't got the bars in your pad to match me Me I'm so fast, you should catch a taxi Have you got the picture like Paparazzi? You lack the facts that go back-to-back, b When I watch you rap it's like crazy comedy I got a 'don't rate fake G' policy f** your awards, I don't rate these nominees Just little fickle Jay-Z wannabes You hobos are old and It's oh so true No promo, logo, or photo-shoot f** your postcode, MOBO and polo suit My opponents are hoping I won't go through I'm certainly burning these burglars verbally Merking these merkers 'til mercenaries murder me Burst in and turnin' your Burberry burgundy Guernsey to Germany, Jersey to Bermondsey True rhymes, ain't got a pen? You can use mine Ain't stayin' underground like a tube line I'm'ma come through and shine, in due time Which one of you pricks said I can't do grime? Genre crosser, nonsense stopper Continent stomper, the conscious monster The freedom fighter, deepest writer Beat up cyphers, the peoples' rhymer I'm bond to get iller, the sound effects k**er The Malcolm X spitter, the alphabet k**er Not a player hater, lady dater Maybe later a baby maker I get slept on like old pyjamas Will I blow up like boats in the harbour? You spit fire, I'm molten lava Flow so cold I scold your father Sold your soul for gold and Prada Who do you know who's flow goes harder? It's over partner, you know the answer Drop bombs on the rhythm, no Obama Baseline murderer, fake guy hurter, race line hurdler Face flying all over the place like furniture I'm back so hard might break my vertebrae Beat breaker, heat taker, sheet of paper cremator, since a teenager DJs can't be BKRs cause if they do they'll get PAR'd I'm back so let me see, the facts are very deep You prats will never see, I rap to any beat Pack the pen and P, practice every week Attack the melody, and smash my enemies Not a sent bro, but you're getting dough With a bent flow jacking off Jay-Z like a little klepto And the tempo went slow Done a lot in my lifetime, I was retro Everybody bow to the king cause he's back Whether or not radio was in his track Forget Nas and his dad, I'm bridging the gap You think it's just rap, but it's bigger than that If it's tit for tat, I got the gift of the gat What you spit is just sh**, blood, stick to the facts You itch like a cat that's addicted to crack I'm sick of you Prats, cause you sh**heads is whack I'm a G, any beat, I will damage Very deep, whether it be grime or garage Enemies better flee, I won't have it You'll never be ahead of me you blind old maggot If you really really live crime, don't chat it If you really really got a 9, go grab it Then, if you're live, don't hide, don't panic Just ride like a psycho that might go manic Don't settle with the rest, cause I'm better than the best Not just clever, yes I'm intelligent and best you Better invest in some weapons and a vest You veterans are vexed, irrelevant and stressed Keep telling us your rep, but you never get respect You fed up cause seven of your regiments are messed You could get a bit of press for that ice on your neck It's not credit, it's a debt I'm here for the beat, just save all the nonsense Murk it whether a rave or a concert When I'm on stage, make way for the monster Key to the Game: I came, toured, and conquered Spit on your bars, I spray more for longer You spit boring, chainsaw's are stronger You're a boxer, wait, you're a mobster Ain't got time for fake fraud impostors I'm a champ, deep MC and it's blatant But tramps wanna sleep on me like a pavement When I speak, I leave them chiefs in amazement Meanest genius, I'm free like a mason But I don't sleep with police at the station I'm writing my rhymes, you're completing your statement Running from the swine while you're eating your bacon Don't rip beats, I beat them and break 'em Most MCs don't believe them or rate 'em It's no secret, these neeks are just hating Keep on saying that my team isn't flaming Light fire like them trees that you're blazing Double P, trouble we, there'll be an invasion Test us? Get left deep in the basement Don't care whether you're from Ealing or Leyton Middle Eastern or Asian... Little man never did exams Got a particular bigger plan flippin' grams 'Til a bigger man in his gang gave him a stick to bang Or maybe just hold cause no one thought he would k** a man 'Till he caught a silly billy villain, chillin' in a jam Sippin' champs, spliff in his hand, trigger didn't jam... Bang bang biddy bang biddy biddy bang Now he's in the can thinkin' "Damn, what a pity fam." Rappers are yapping and flapping their lips 'Bout how they're packing and clapping their sticks Has to be big, the impact it has on the kids Tell me where the factory is When the government k**, they're just stacking their chips You wonder why the yout-dem are strapped and they're pissed If not a nine, it's a knife getting jabbed in your ribs People die for the petrol, the gas in our whips In London, you can get shanked in the heart Still the government put more tanks in Iraq Ignorant little spitters are talking greasy Cause they bitten bitties that they saw on TV If all you rap about is the hoes and the dough It's already too late, you sold 'em your soul You jokers act like you know but you don't Cause there's little kids dying all over the globe Many say they know what revolution could be But many don't know what revolution would mean It would mean blood, it would mean pain But it could be us to bring that change Little hypocrites are spittin' typical nonsense I'm a black ball because of political content Laugh at my people while you criminals bomb them Militant on the rhythm, I'm k**ing you on the song then History you won't read in a textbook Kunta Kinte, I bleed from my left foot Never see me on the TV with Jedward Tell the BBC they need me on Westwood