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Lowkey - Fire In The Booth (Concious Rap) {10minute video}

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posted on Mar, 22 2015 @ 06:25 PM
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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-double 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 "OK, 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...
L-O-L, 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...
D.D.T these JLS M.C's...

What you just saw basically...
Is how to murder the ABC's...



Now 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 backpack 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 kak, it was crap, I'm dashing it...
You follow fashion with rap, I'm passionate...

Blood start splashing you, whip you're dashing 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 dis 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 victimize an idiot a million times...



Hey hey, we rate raves and sway flames...
Take snakes of 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 babes like "babe wait"...
On a lay lay, you date rape and save face...

In the same place, we maintain and ain't changed...
We make tapes, that rate pace like Kay Slay...



Don't diss this or miss this we live this from Lisbon to Ipswich...
For instance the d#'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...

I'm conscious believe, Unconscious MCs...
Don't respond to the beef, if you nonces are weak...



Get ill up on the rhythm, when I kill '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 in-directs...
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 on 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 kack flow...
But you're whack though put ya cap low,
Prat go back home...

This monster is stronger than Castro's backbone...
I attack those little fat bo-cats though...



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, magger where's your mag-a-num?..
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 kill '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 rappers, 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, mobile, and polo suit...
My opponents are hoping, I won't roll through...



I'm certainly burning these burglars verbally...
Merking these merkers 'til mercenaries murder me...

Burstin' and turnin' your burberry burgundy...
Guernsey to Germany, Jersey to Bermondsey...




Cont...




posted on Mar, 22 2015 @ 06:25 PM
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a reply to: CharlieSpeirs



True rhymes, ain't got a pen? You can use mine...
Ain't stayin' underground, like a tube line...

I'ma come through, and shine, in due time...
Which one of you pricks said I can't do grime?..



Jungle crosser, nonsense stopper...
Continent stomper, the conscious monster...

The freedom fighter, deepest writer...
Beat up cyphers, the peoples' rhymer...

I'm bound to get iller, the sound effects killer...
The Malcolm X spitter, the alphabet killer...

Not a player hater, lady dater...
Maybe later a baby maker...



I get slept on like old pajamas...
Will I blow up, like boats in the harbor?..

You spit fire, I'm molten lava..
Flow so cold, I scold ya 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 hurdlers....
Face flying all over the place, like furniture...
I'm back so hard might break my vertebrate...

Beat breaker, heat taker...
Sheet of paper cre-mator, 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 plea, I practice every week...
Attack the melody, and smash my enemies...

Not a send 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, ask Wretchro...



Everybody bow to the king, cause he's back...
Whether or not radio was rinsin 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 gab...
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 am a G, any beat, I will damage...
Very deep, whether it be grime or garage...

Enemies better flee, I won't have it...
You will 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 Nine, 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 blessed...

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...
But that necklace on your neck...
Ain't a 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, saw, and conquered...

Spit on your bars, I spray more for longer...
You spit boras, 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 speak 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...
You liars, we're fire, just 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...

Until a bigger man in his gang, gave him a stick to bang...
Or maybe just hold, cause, no one thought he would kill 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 a 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 kill, they're just stacking their chips...
You wonder why the youth 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 your whip...

In London, you can get shanked in the heart
Still the government put more tanks in Iraq...

Ignorant little spitters are talking greazy...
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've been black balled because of political content...

Laugh at my people while you criminals bomb them...
Militant on the rhythm, I'm killing 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!!!

edit on 22-3-2015 by CharlieSpeirs because: (no reason given)



posted on Mar, 22 2015 @ 06:37 PM
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Not bad. I still think Big Narstie's fire in the booth was the sickest one I've heard.




posted on Mar, 22 2015 @ 06:37 PM
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Any London slang that needs defining just ask and I'll give you the low down



posted on Mar, 22 2015 @ 06:39 PM
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a reply to: PorteurDeMort

Big Narstie is sick...

I've been sharing Lowkey lately cos I can relate to it a little more.



But Narstie is top quality!




posted on Mar, 22 2015 @ 06:44 PM
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I've been following the grime scene since 2009. I think Giggs was the first artist I heard. I'm the only person I've met who follows Grime. Then again it's virtually unknown in the states. You and I might differ in opinion on a lot of issues but at least we not agree Narstie is the man. You ever watch his Uncle Pain skits on YouTube. Anytime I need a laugh he always delivers. Big up Base Defense League. #base




posted on Mar, 22 2015 @ 06:48 PM
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a reply to: PorteurDeMort

PAAAAIIIINNNN



For real, Narstie is hilarious.

Could have been a comedian if he weren't such a good spitter.




& Giggs is amazing...
Probably the realist the UK has to offer.


We all find common ground somewhere



posted on Mar, 22 2015 @ 10:47 PM
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OH MY GOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!! That was INSANE... I wanted it to never end.

Since I'm here and I already have the other tab open on youtube for a rapper associated with The Roots whos work is at least related to conscious rap, I'll leave this here:



I just noticed in the preview frame for this vid has the artist peeking through the blinds, like Malcolm X in my avatar.



edit on 3/22/2015 by 3n19m470 because: (no reason given)



posted on Mar, 22 2015 @ 10:50 PM
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originally posted by: 3n19m470
OH MY GOOOOOOOD!!!!!!!! That was INSANE... I wanted it to never end.

Since I'm here and I already have the other tab open on youtube for a rapper associated with The Roots whos work is at least related to conscious rap, I'll leave this here:






Same when I first heard it.


Thanks for the link pal, I'll check it out in the morning!







 
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