Luyện nghe bài hát Industrial Revolution

1]
Yeah nigga, Immortal Technique,

The bling-bling era was cute but it's about to be
I leave you full of like the moon blocking the sun
my metaphors are dirty herpes but harder to catch
like an escape tunnel in I started from scratch
and now parasites wanna percent of my ASCAP
trying to control perspective an acid flashback
but here's a for every single record exec
get your fucking hands out my pocket nigga like X
but ain't a movie, I'm not a fan or a groupie
and I'm not that of cat, you can afford to miss if you shoot me
curse the heavens and laugh the sky electrocutes me
Immortal Technique stuck in thoughts darkening dreams
no ones as good as good as me, they got better marketing schemes
I leave ya to own destruction like sparking a fiend
'cause you got jealousy in ya voice star scream
and that's the reason that I hate yall faggots
I've been nice since got killed over 8-ball jackets
and Reebok Pumps that do shit for the sneaker
I'm a heatseaker with features reach through the speaker
and murder counter personally
break a thermometer and force his kids mercury
try jerking me thinking they call shots
offered me a deal and a blanket full of pox
your all getting shot, you little trecherous bitches

This is the business, and ya'll ain't getting for free
and if you play broke, then I'm taking your company
you can call it reparations or
lock and load nigga, revolution

2]
I want fifty million dollars for my collar stand
like the Bush administration to the Taliban
and packing grams nigga, learn to speak and behave
you wanna spend twenty years as a government
two million people in prison keep the government
stuck in a six by eight cell in the grave
i was made by revolution to speak to the
deep in the club toast the truth, reach for the
I burn an orphanage to bring heat to you bastards
deep in a casket, columbian fashion
intoxicated of the flow thugs passion
you motherfuckers never get me to stop blastin'
better off asking Ariel Sharon for compasion
your better off begging for twenty for a label
your better off battling cancer under cabels
chemically unstable, set to explode
foretold by the dead sea scrolls in codes
so if your message ain't shit, the records you sold
if you go platinum, it's got nothing to do with luck
it just means that a million people are stupid as
stuck in the underground in general and rose to the
without managers, a deal, or a gimmick
Revolutionary 2, murder the critics
and leave your fucking body rotten for the roaches and