Luyện nghe bài hát Industrial Revolution

1]
Yeah nigga, Technique, metaphysics

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

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

2]
I want fifty million dollars for my collar stand
the Bush administration gave to the Taliban
and fuck packing grams nigga, to speak and behave
you spend twenty years as a government slave
two million people in prison keep the paid
in a six by eight cell alive in the grave
i was made by revolution to speak to the
in the club toast the truth, reach for the glasses
I burn an orphanage just to heat to you bastards
innocent deep in a casket, fashion
intoxicated of the flow like thugs
you motherfuckers never get me to stop blastin'
your better off asking Ariel for compasion
your off begging for twenty points for a label
your better off cancer under telephone cabels
Technique chemically unstable, set to
foretold by the dead sea written in codes
so if your message ain't shit, fuck the you sold
'cause if you go platinum, got nothing to do with luck
it just means that a million people are stupid as
stuck in the underground in and rose to the limit
distribution managers, a deal, or a gimmick
Revolutionary 2, murder the critics
and your fucking body rotten for the roaches and crickets