Lyrics Nines – Fire In The Booth Part 2

(You know what time it is when you hear this right)
Shoutouts to the gang
(Turn up)
Let’s go, uh

If I don’t rap about birds then the fans won’t love me anymore
Say you’re rich but if all you got is money, then you’re poor
I treat the beat like a therapist
Kids waking up to bombs in the Middle East
So tell me who’s the real terrorist
Why ain’t he content with just one chick
All this gun crime’s got these young brothers dying over dumb shit
Just a lost soul with big dreams
Quamari got murdered last month, he was only 15
Busy chasing money so I don’t get sleep
Hungry but I don’t wanna eat that processed meat
I love music but I gotta make P
At a fork in the road, should be like Pablo or Jay Z
My school friend said he never thought I’d make it
But I ain’t coming home if the wrong door gets raided
Uh, and if I don’t make it at least I died trying
Throw my Rollie in the air, the way time’s flying
Chicks will always be there if your dough is long
All this vanity distracting me from what’s really going on
They don’t have a clue what’s happening on the street
Screaming «F Donald Trump», like it matters who’s in the seat
Remember when Lauren Hill used to sing to me
Had me feeling like black was the thing to be
Now look at what they promote in the industry
Just take a look at the industry
It’s Nines

I’m still trapping with a deal
I could blow or catch a case, try imagine how I feel
I went to Fashion Week with the crew
But where I’m from, a catwalk means a fiend walking through
Most these niggas that you see me with, have been around for time
Them niggas’ flow had more circles than a Audi sign
Fly guys, we don’t do casual
I’m in the crop house, round trees like Fruit Pastilles
Trust me, our food’s the best
Got mumsy a new address
Comfy and you are stressed
Hungary like Budapest
I went around the neck like a chain
I know the real Birdman, put some respek on my name
When I get a bringing, used to reload on a Q
Turn a O into 2
The block knows like the flu
They could tell you how I was restricted to doing bets
Cuh I went broke addicted to roulette
Told Jazz I can’t spend like the blue papers in the Rizzler
Went down to my last ten
Uh, switch hoes on the regs, I’m no liar
I get more head than blow-dryers
In the summertime I had a front-line looking freezing
Ask my pen, that looking like my diamonds are bleeding
Amne’ go for 6, take couple for 5.8
That fed try stitch me in, that hustle won’t fly straight
Don’t hear this on the radio, they play me on the street
Tough online but one day we’re gonna meet
Took about 6 months to save up for a Jeep
When the TP came through, I made that in a week
I just aim and bust, had his whole block running
Even made his angel dust, I’m ahead of them fools
And next time I make that old nigga famous he’ll be dead on the news
It’s Nines