Luyện nghe bài hát Industrial Revolution

1]
Yeah nigga, Immortal Technique,

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 percent of my ASCAP
trying to control perspective like an flashback
but here's a quotable for every single exec
get your fucking hands out my pocket 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 and laugh when the sky electrocutes me
Immortal Technique stuck in your thoughts dreams
no ones as good as good as me, they got better marketing schemes
I leave ya to your own like sparking a fiend
'cause you got jealousy in ya like star scream
and the primary reason that I hate yall faggots
I've been nice since niggas got over 8-ball jackets
and Reebok Pumps that didn't do for the sneaker
I'm a heatseaker with features that'll reach the speaker
and murder counter personally
break a thermometer and force feed his kids
ANR's try me thinking they call shots
offered me a deal and a full of small pox
all getting shot, you little fucking trecherous bitches

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

2]
I want fifty three million dollars for my collar
like the Bush administration to the Taliban
and fuck packing grams nigga, learn to and behave
you wanna spend twenty years as a government
two million in prison keep the government paid
stuck in a six by eight alive 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 just to bring heat to you bastards
innocent in a casket, columbian fashion
intoxicated of the flow like passion
you will never get me to stop blastin'
better off asking Ariel Sharon for compasion
your better off begging for twenty points for a
your better off cancer under telephone cabels
Technique unstable, set to explode
by the dead sea scrolls written 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 that a million people are stupid as fuck
in the underground in general and rose to the limit
without distribution managers, a deal, or a
Revolutionary 2, murder the critics
and leave your fucking rotten for the roaches and crickets