[Immortal Technique]
Somebody talk shit to me in L.A., would never live
Cause brown rolls deeper than red or blue, ever did
I got bullets that'll rip through yo' ribs
More painful than watchin R. Kelly piss on yo' kids
Here's the ultimatum motherfucker, give me the ASCAP
Or give America Biggie and 2Pac flashbacks
Some niggaz don't think the underground is grimy and dirty
'til they find your body on a fuckin highway in Jersey
I fire rockets at generic topics
Your lyrics don't hold weight, like two-dimensional objects
Cause jail culture didn't give you that fitted hat
to memorize a ghostwritten shit verse and spit it back
I won't let your wack rhymes redefine lyricism
For a whole generation with they fathers in prison
You live inside the image of an era that's gone
Like government officials tryin to justify Vietnam
I leave niggaz traumatized, like they momma died
And they was responsible for the drive-by homicide
And I don't market revolution, I live it
What you think cause you fake everyone else is a gimmick?
Jealous bickering, industry slaves, the nerve of you
Like a child prostitute born into a life of servitude
Until we murder you, makin the red carpet burgundy
With PsychoRealm in the streets where I prefer to be
[Chorus: Immortal Technique]
Hollywood drive-by, motherfuckin murder-fest
Weed clouds in the air, that cause turbulence
Revolucion, motherfucker you heard of it
I light the spliff with the flag, while I'm burnin it
Hollywood drive-by, sprayin the cucarachas
War with the system like the streets of Oaxaca
Yeah, revolucion, motherfucker you scared of it?
Well it's comin to the industry now, so be prepared for it
[PsychoRealm]
You're on some bullshit tracks, I spit them full-clip raps
While most of these gangsta rappers are some full-fledged rats
You're on some bullshit tracks, I spit them full [scratches]
