Marechal - Mr Fire in the Booth lyrics

[Verse 1 ] They call me mister fire in the booth, booth Don't force me to remind you why Never gave a guy a blight ever who will ramp with I? The half breed seed sprouting his disease Haunting emcees like Desalinise in Napoleon's dream I'm mean, not a team, nor a squad nor a nation Unless its Haitian Could break the back of my occupation Cooperation is the only clever option open Any choice you're given is fake Kinda like you voting Either way, the victory's mine son Shoulda done as your mum said, listen to dad I gave you life, thats inside of you And, I provided too Now you wanna question the very wisdom that guided you Sounding like enlightened fools Running from a spiteful brawl But in my city we don't know how to be nice at all Whe know the knife and tool And that life has rules And the youngers use them and lose them just on their bikes to school [Hook x2 : Akala] They call me mister fire in the booth, booth They call me mister fire in the booth, booth They call me mister fire in the booth, booth Cos i'm always spittin' out the truth, truth [Verse2] They call me mister fire in the booth protect your kneck Cos its Sun Tzu with a hoodie on, plato with a pair of creps Use to reppin' where there's weapons and never a santa We turn a stanza to a cancer with poetic banter So no factor that chat which rappers crack I cold Turkey that pratt, and let you have him back If we believe your act that you believe that you can rap You'll get punished for stupid beliefs, and its more than slaps The impact on the head of the hard headed Bet that he'll get his little rap and facade, deaded In the ring with the king of the paragraphs Come on then sweetheart, let us have a dance Your twinkle toes and pretty pose could never dazzle The one who throws a million souls and it's never ha**le Battles are pleasure for a general nobody told you? Smash you a hole that is big enough to snatch your soul through [Hook x2 : Akala] [Verse 3] I take 'em out (All on my own) Cos that's the way im made Maybe in your culture suicide is being brave The sage of the page makes graves plagued with dark ages And ain't no choice to be buried I only do cremating For little idiots thats not even rated Not even hated not even a factor that needs to be calculated And you can't explain it, much less contain it Roll with us or get crushed, that i've already stated In the plainest terms But fools never learn Still tryna be what they're not like wearing the blondest perm Cos of loss of purpose, I have you lost on purpose You can't escape the furnace, so best you praise my verses Look around the cooning's a lot I spit a sentence quick like a judge with a coon in the dock But these clowns with their dead sound hate me Still they don't count like a dead brown baby