Fire In The Booth PT2 – Ghetts

[Feel Inside]

I see the devil in my sleep
I thank God for every blessing I receive
A lesson learned is a lesson I can teach
And a winner never won without a lesson in defeat
Faith is my drug
And they’re tryna give me life for possession of belief
Look at it, can’t see air but it’s there
And the fact we breathe’s enough evidence to me
I used to have a heart of gold until I replaced it for a fist full of dollars
Now I know the only benefit is Ps
Living for today, afraid of facing tomorrow
Lying to myself, saying I’ve got everything I need
And I used to want a face I could borrow
Cause people used to tell me every day about my teeth
Insecure about my smile, so I went and put my money where my mouth is
Now it’s evident to see

I’m just a victim of what someone else thinks
I was brainwashed while I was watching the world spin
“I would never conform” is what I used to tell Prince
Now at the world end, this whirlwind, bells ring
Well my name’s set, and I hate when
Bruddas be talking like they know me but we ain’t friends
Wastemen, they hate me
But if everybody loved me I’d be Raymond
But I’m Justin, clock Samuel
What you think it means? An assumption I can’t handle
I ain’t never ever been the rapper I was labelled in the Sun
How can I be the artist that police can’t cancel?
When I can literally be saying it’s begun
And they instantly think that I’m saying it’s a gun
It’s begun, it’s a gun
Ain’t it a shame what this shit’s become?

Now every rapper out wants to rap about trapping, well
I was trapping when I used to hang around Aaron
But I ain’t jumping on the “every rapper out” wagon
My brudda, I’ll still be killing it when that is out of fashion
Look how many eras I’ve survived
And I’ve been doubted from the second I arrived, never mind
Let’s talk about the comparisons, the people they compare me to
Without buying my albums, the only thing they hear me do is
Freestyles, but meanwhile
The jury’s out, I’m still being trialed
They wanna judge me because I stand in the stock
It’s like people criticising a film they haven’t watched
Watch this, Ghetts this and Ghetts that
But you’ll never get shit when Ghetts raps
On my microphone tekkers, boy
You ain’t never have an open mind unless I cock the TEC back
Bang! And all I want is next year
Is these words not to fall upon deaf ears
Anyway, that’s enough about the industry
Let’s talk about the man behind the music
The sidekick, the man behind the Movement
Two years silent, analysing the blueprint
And now I’m back from my sabbatical
You be acting like a break ain’t understandable
Years in the game, it made me a cannibal
There’s rules to this shit but I ain’t read the manual
I would’ve done so many things differently
Now every move I make’s extremely tactical

I think out the box
While I’m lighting up something that’ll stink out the block
Reminiscing – different day, same shit
Repetition – it’s a shame, ain’t it?
Recognition, deep spitters remain nameless
Every listen, these lyrics evade basic
Men and women
The sample told me I should tell you how I feel inside
So for the last three minutes or so
I just let my guard down to tell the world what I’m feeling like
You don’t feel me, why?
GH

[New Slaves]

I wrote this when I realised they don’t get the picture
Unless you give ’em the whole clip
What the fuck was I holding back for? Nah, that ain’t like me
Gotta get the hunger back
Stop spitting like when I was a younger man
I done been through so much shit
In these last few years, fake bruddas wouldn’t understand
I was born with the underhand
No silver spoon, and a line right there
Make a brudda like me wanna wield a tune
I woulda bumba fam
They say that struggle builds character
Well I guess that’s why you can base a movie on my life
This some inspirational shit
I’ve been doing this for people of all races
Who never had it easy
God bless everyone
I’m interracial with this
And that ain’t a word
But you know what I meant
And I ain’t gotta say that I’m putting in 100
You already know the percent
There ain’t no controlling me when
I feel like the whole world’s coming against me
Now the time’s right, I’mma show them again
So hard, I could put a hole in cement
Go-go-go for me then, go-go-go for me then
Probably won’t reply but I love it
You ain’t the first and I swear on the Bible
You won’t be the last, I expect it
You know what they do in the grime scene when they wan’ be respected?
Whose name gets called out? That’s right, you guessed it
Mr Top 3 Selected, could’ve made Lord of the Mics do
Triple the numbers it done, but why would I do that
And make another man get rich?
And a man I don’t like at that
But that’s grime and that’s rap
And to you that live in the past
Can’t help but backtrack
Cartwheels, back flips
Somersaults, handstands
That’s what I’ll do when you people realise
All these pricks just act bad
This Twitter ting? Sickening!
Sometimes when I’m looking at my timeline
I don’t wanna believe my eyesight like
“Nah, he could’ve never said that”
These kids need discipline
Once again someone’s seeking attention
He needs a direction, go ahead, mention Ghetts
Cuh otherwise nobody’s listening
I ain’t mad, get your views up
Ain’t that awarding?
I’m a wolf amongst stray dogs
Don’t make me ride on my enemies
Old school BMX, no brakes
On all these MCs act on it when
They’ve been putting out music for years and it’s dead
So nobody don’t acknowledge them, mad

It’s the return of the prodigal son
Ethan from Mission Impossible, Hunt
My life’s a pronominal one
The only matrix and an oracle one
Rooftop, diabolical plunge
Pains, abdominal ones
Left home like say I had a horrible mum
Suitcase packed and a roommate
That ain’t never gonna [?]
But I be on a crusade and
Anybody who’s sleeping on me ain’t getting their duvets back
UK grime, UK rap
The UK’s mine, man are using tracks
Go harder, Mo Farah doing eight laps
Logic, Reason and Cubase that
Ain’t an issue, Charlie
You know when the game has missed you?
It’s boom, bye bye when I raise the pistol
If I ain’t giving one of these new wave fuckers
A cosign, they actually ain’t official
If you were so grime, you would know why
In ’05, Eskiboy had an invaded igloo
I was on that lyrical combat
And from that, a bredda add a name to this do
Now I gotta draw for the old school Ghetts
Freedom of Speech time full of vocal threats
Reading between lines, was a nigga ever calling me that?
I ain’t answered a phone call, yet I’m local
And I’m a mogul, yes, antisocial
[?] socialist when they’re getting in my circle
Passport check no let him in the terminal
Cause they be on a global flex
I’m that guy, even when I’ve been away
I kill it, kill the game when it’s comeback time
The comeback’s like a comeback from Mike
Jesus Christ when I come back twice
Soul 2 Soul, come back to life
Reality check for these fuckboys
None of you [?] action time
I be duppying anybody who jumps in line, mad

[Wednesday]

Ride outside, ride out time, find out why I’m on a wile out vibe
I will never let one of my enemies kill me, I’d rather die how Winehouse died
I ain’t ever had it from anybody or anyone, I am the MC but I never run
I’ll be going on like I ain’t letting of eleven guns let em come, let em come, let em come
One brudda, don dadda, arm and a shank, gun bust now I would than I done fuck you, shut the fuck up I’m under cover which means I pretend I’m a rapper pu, pu, pure 16’s but I’ll draw for the skeng in the pasa carry on screaming your postcode, I don’t depend on my manor and even though I’ve got a smile on my face imp as angry as Tyson blended with badder I know niggas who, shoot, at, police I was a dancehall mafia member with Stana, if you say something that I find offensive, I’ll have to re-offend with the time bomb, John Travolta in face off couldn’t prevent me from blowing every God damn face off John Mclean would have been a dead man from long time Their could have never been a sequel John Connor from the terminator would have never been alive And the earth would have been a wasteland, without a sign of any people But I’m betting I can find you with John though Johnwho? Jon Doe In a spiritual world full of lost souls you can find me roaming amongst the dead with one mic, two hammers and a crossbow I say tick tick boom, some might think of a Will Smith tune I think of cars in Iraq Half of the yard. wanna par with the Spartan Every part of your heart in pieces I depart laughing, I’m hard bringing demons clock ticking, bomb ticking Me and my niggas in the graveyard, Yo Ghetts what you in the grave yard for? Mosh pitting, pissing on tomb stones, waking the dead somebody somewhere shaking their head smh, lol, dpmo, shock factor This has the listener shaking again Don’t tempt me, I’m so on it, I promise I’m beyond deadly

Scarf over the bottom half of the face
My brudda, I don’t care if you got an army in place
Got a funeral hearse and a casket arranged
Who’s taking the piss?
You’ll be left in a cubicle, curled up, half of your brain
All over the floors and walls
The toilets look better in blood red
The walls have ears and the doors inform
So there’s holes in everything
Big ones
Rough round the edges
None of these holes ain’t elegant
Strap
Long like the nose on an elephant
Body in the trunk
Headshot will expose your intelligence
Dumbo! Columbo couldn’t solve the case
I come home with a poker face
Hide the snub nose and then throw the clothes away
Man know it’s better to bag
A five pound can of petrol and set em alight
You wanna play games?
11-a-side
Man unite with the devil and strike
I’m in another man’s city, no home advantage
One shot, man’ll bring out his feminine side
So go ahead, cross me
I’m upfront, one touch, BANG!
Palacio on the back of the dome
Enemies don’-UURRGGHH!