This is a song about "Mia booth"

Fuckin' up my prestige, till i live with the blues

Strange fruit, that's the truth, i spit it in the booth,

Fuck it we on the move, none of use tryna lose

Only if i'm rapping, my vision in the booth

Bail hard but balling 50 on them pretty shoes

From a third world country to a star in the booth

Chance is also on my list of rappers that ignite the booth

And i don’t gotta front, i play these niggas like a wisdom tooth

I’m inclined with women who come on they time

Now the passion from the booth comes alive in a rhyme,

Yesterday's paper, that's why you old news

Nigga, you ain't ill in the booth

Second i get in the booth,

Niggas die over shoes