Luyện nghe bài hát Industrial Revolution

1]
Yeah nigga, Technique, metaphysics

The bling-bling era was cute but it's about to be
I leave you full of clips like the blocking the sun
my metaphors are dirty herpes but harder to catch
like an tunnel in prison I started from scratch
and now these parasites percent of my ASCAP
trying to control perspective like an acid
but here's a quotable for every single record
get your fucking hands out my nigga like Malcolm X
but this a movie, I'm not a fan or a groupie
and I'm not that type of cat, you can afford to miss if you me
the heavens and laugh when the sky electrocutes me
Immortal Technique stuck in your thoughts darkening
no ones as good as good as me, they just got better marketing
I leave ya to your own like sparking a fiend
'cause you got jealousy in ya voice star scream
and that's the primary reason that I hate faggots
I've been nice since niggas got over 8-ball jackets
and Reebok Pumps didn't do shit for the sneaker
I'm a heatseaker with features that'll through the speaker
and counter revolutionaries personally
a thermometer and force feed his kids mercury
ANR's try jerking me thinking they shots
me a deal and a blanket full of small pox
your all getting shot, you fucking trecherous bitches

This is the business, and ya'll ain't nothing for free
and if you devils play broke, then I'm taking your
you can call it reparations or
lock and nigga, industrial revolution

2]
I want three million dollars for my collar stand
the Bush administration gave to the Taliban
and fuck packing grams nigga, to speak and behave
you wanna spend twenty years as a slave
two million people in prison keep the paid
stuck in a six by cell alive in the grave
i was made by revolution to speak to the
deep in the club toast the truth, for the glasses
I burn an just to bring heat to you bastards
innocent in a casket, columbian fashion
intoxicated of the flow like thugs
you motherfuckers will never get me to stop
better off asking Ariel Sharon 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 scrolls in codes
so if your message ain't shit, fuck the records you
'cause if you go platinum, got nothing to do with luck
it just means that a million are stupid as fuck
stuck in the in general and rose to the limit
distribution managers, a deal, or a gimmick
Revolutionary 2, murder the critics
and leave your fucking body rotten for the and crickets