Fire in The Booth Part 4Akala

[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 barin’ 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