Luyện nghe bài hát Industrial Revolution

1]
Yeah nigga, Immortal Technique,

The bling-bling era was but it's about to be done
I leave you full of clips like the blocking the sun
my metaphors are dirty like herpes but harder to
like an escape tunnel in prison I started scratch
and now these parasites wanna percent of my
trying to perspective like an acid flashback
but here's a quotable for every single record
get your fucking hands out my pocket nigga like X
but this 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 laugh when the sky me
Immortal Technique stuck in thoughts darkening dreams
no as good as good as me, they just got better marketing schemes
I leave ya to your own like sparking a fiend
'cause you got in ya voice like star scream
and that's the primary reason that I hate yall
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 reach through the speaker
and murder revolutionaries personally
break a thermometer and force feed his mercury
try jerking me thinking they call shots
offered me a deal and a blanket of small pox
your all getting shot, you little fucking bitches

This is the business, and ain't getting nothing for free
and if you devils broke, then I'm taking your company
you can it reparations or restitution
lock and load nigga, industrial

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