1] Yeah nigga, Technique, metaphysics
The bling-bling era was cute but it's about to be I leave you full of clips the moon blocking the sun my are dirty like herpes but harder to catch like an tunnel in prison I started from scratch and now these parasites wanna of my ASCAP trying to control perspective an acid flashback but here's a quotable for every single record get your fucking hands out my pocket nigga Malcolm 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 when the sky me Immortal Technique stuck in your thoughts dreams no ones as good as good as me, they just got marketing schemes I ya to your own destruction like sparking a fiend 'cause you got jealousy in ya voice like scream and that's the primary reason that I hate faggots I've been nice niggas got killed over 8-ball jackets and Reebok Pumps that didn't do for the sneaker I'm a with features that'll reach through the speaker and murder counter personally break a thermometer and force feed his mercury ANR's try jerking me they call shots offered me a deal and a blanket full of pox your all getting shot, you fucking trecherous bitches
This is the business, and ya'll getting nothing for free and if you devils play broke, then I'm your company you can it reparations or restitution lock and load nigga, industrial
2] I want three million dollars for my collar stand like the Bush administration gave to the and fuck packing nigga, learn to speak and behave you wanna spend twenty as a government slave two million in prison keep the government paid stuck in a six by eight alive in the grave i was made by to speak to the masses deep in the club toast the truth, for the glasses I burn an just to bring heat to you bastards innocent deep in a casket, fashion intoxicated of the like thugs passion you motherfuckers will never get me to blastin' your better off asking Ariel Sharon for your better off for twenty points for a label your better off battling cancer under cabels Technique chemically unstable, set to foretold by the dead sea scrolls in codes so if your message shit, fuck the records you sold if you go platinum, it's got nothing to do with luck it just that a million people are stupid as fuck stuck in the underground in general and to the limit without managers, a deal, or a gimmick Revolutionary Volume 2, the critics and leave your fucking body rotten for the and crickets