So you're the motherfucker they call....Immortal Technique.
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What the fuck make you so special nigga?
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Huh... what the fuck do you do?
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I calculate planet alignment like Mayan astronomy
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Discovering atrocities worst than Aristotle
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Subjecting children to sodomy
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Your theory of the galaxy is primitive like telome
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The truth about the universe stuck up like Aztec pottery
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Unpredictable results like experimental psychology
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I starve the streets with emcee's beneath my feet in colonies
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But presentation and spirit revolve around autonomy
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Searching for monogamy
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And cutting fake bitches out of my mind like a lobotomy
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So obviously I'm not gonna be here to play games
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Walked the top of the world and leave the arctic circle in flames
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Battle the beast and false prophet depicted in the King James
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I give a fuck about your emcee name I don't admire you
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Only by dental records will you be identifiable
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Cause the future is not reliable
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Remember when rap was not economically viable
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Comparable to what motherfuckers think of me
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I might be nobody but wait till I'm together like a symphony
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Resounding sound that will continue infinitely
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Angel of death punishing all those who live in infamy
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And shine so far away from you
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You'll never get a glimpse of me
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Attempts to extinguish me don't even bother me none
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Like retarded kids throwing ice cubes at the sun
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A victory against Immortal Technique will never be done
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Just degrees of losing and every second your adding one
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Some niggas dream of pushing kilos but I drop tons
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With more facts and formulas and philosophical logic
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Then a basement full of scientists puffing on chronic
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Dipped in mycin potassium cyanide and liquid bubonic
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And use it as a sonic one to find a spawn of the demonic
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Screaming like onyx is of absolutely no consequence
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The poison is dense enough to clog up your arteries
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Mercy is not a part of me
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I cause you bodily injury permanently be simply verbally murdering me
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Is inconceivable cause of the unbelievable evil injected inside
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The blood stream of my people
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And redemption is not located under a church steeple
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The feeble and the meek and soldiers like the technique
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Will inherit the earth, But the earth will be weak
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Mother earth in her decrepit terminal illness physique
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The year three thousand is bleak no happily ever after
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Just death following the forth reich disaster, a legacy of bastards
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With plastic explosives your futures been eroded
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Cause you forgot that when your free it's multiplied indefinitely
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By the struggle that be the struggle I see
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To socialistically united the third world countries
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Expose hypocrisy in Americas democracy
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Sloppily obsessed with stopping me cause I speak prophecy
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Trample and dismantle your capitalist philosophy
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The same way I stomp the conquering rap monopoly
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And I'm not a fucking prophet
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But that's the fucking prophecy
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Prophecy
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Immortal Technique |