text: Fire in the Booth Lyrics
  Gucci Louis my colour for real
  Louboutin is her heels
  I know Rollies might try and follow the wheels
  The obbo is real
  We invested in copper and steel
  You can get fried like Kentucky for real
  We expected this fuckery for real
  Still risk getting hope we get lucky for real
  Gucci Louis my colour for real
  Louboutin is her heels
  I know Rollies might try and follow the wheels
  The obbo is real
  We invested in copper and steel
  You can get fried like Kentucky for real
  We expected this fuckery for real
  Whats the deal, still keeping up deals
  Still put bread into skengs and I still aint got me a Smith unlike Will
  I really had a on me take a chase uphill while you was wrapped up in your quilt
  Really had a half of box of me up north, but I never put on no kilt
  Trust me the obbo is real
  They had me in court tryna deny my guilt
  Touch road and my first meal was jollof for real
  Still find myself in the ride, two rambos twinning
  And theyre tall like me and Colo for real
  I had to Sneak like Bo but for real
  These coppers for real
  90 on the M all for a meal
  Thats buj and for real
  Put down readies now sauce on spill
  Yes I got shh on the cooker for real
  I aint tryna wish I could win the lotto
  Im up and down the M tryna dodge the obbo
  I dunno if Ill be out here tomorrow
  I just folded a 20 and I made me a comma
  I do road with a whole load of things in the motor
  Feds wish they could grab the revolver
  I could Louis and Gucci my loafers
  Been time since I been sleeping on sofas
  Found it hard to make toast in the jailhouse
  So I just touched road and got me a toaster
  The obbo is real
  They need to let the wing free like Oprah
  I gotta set the bar high in the T
  I cant set the bar low, Gary
  Spent 013 in the bando
  And I was listening to Potter no Harry
  I remember having no charger
  So I had to preserve my battery
  All Scott wanna do is score and I told him dont Dele just wait in the alley
  Old school like Tim and Barry
  Hit the opp block tryna smoke me one
  You was worried bout smoking on Cali
  Im up and down the M with Skatty
  Treat the bando like your local cash and carry
  All old school Im looking through the letterbox trust me Ill do that one gladly
  Four door revving, two skengs in
  Two litre engine, you love this friend ting
  So dont left him, you better be De Gea tryna save your bredrin
  Trap phone benching I got this... that I just cant put all my eggs in
  Bruck down penny of each
  Distribute balls like the same way President Trump distributing his speech
  I swear me and T wouldve been rich
  If we ever had a run thats clean
  But for years we were doing up jail
  Between two Gs thats hundreds of weeks
  Thats all for juggin and violence
  Obbo in the hood thats Trident
  Things in the kitchen thats science
  Trap phones filled up with clients
  And these opps cant tell me bout riding
  I had their whole block smelling like tyres
  And I know what it feels like to be dead broke cah I scraped the fuck out the Pyrex
  And I heard a whole load of sirens
  How they talk about pressure, when its me that applied it
  I put skengs in a bruck down Vectra
  Them man are bruck like Lesnar
  Still get it in a dance I couldnt give a fuck about wands and sensors
  Circle the opp block too many times now the gang just restless1Embed