Immortal Technique Black Out Special
....I'm the majority of America futuristically
After I die, f..ck my music, you'll feel me spiritually
Darker than Sicily ripping above the averages
You hold no weight, like bitches after miscarriages
And your labor produces no kids like gay marriages
I'm disparaging every fake thug rapper in sight
That's why your faggot ass will never make it into the
light
I'll crack your skull when I smash your face into the
mic
And now you know what I'm like
I'll Suge Knight the industry, I feel like the spirit
of Nat Turner got into me
You're infinitely hopeless, you sound like shit when
you spit live
Like Jennifer Lopez, I'll massacre a rich rapper
And all his broke friends, and go to Club Cheetah
Rocking some blood-soaked Tims, party crashing, animal-
f..cking model bitches
Leaving their stick-figure anorexic pussy in stitches
My verbal blitzes have outshined your offence
You're watered down nonsense, and I'm two-hundred proof
Choking the local youth in this home-made vocal booth
You're a f..cking incompetent killer like Ray Carruth
And I'm Technique, the rawest nigga ever produced
I spit nastier than regurgitating period juice
So burn your f..cking rhyme book
Stay warm, and put it to good use
I'm about to drop like frozen airplane-shit through
your roof
And I'm sick of fake hustlers telling lies to the youth
You never robbed Dominicans, and you couldn't sling
rocks if you was Palestinian
You broke motherfucker, you cats don't burn rubber
You niggaz can't even get a f..cking cab like Danny
Glover
You ain't hardcore, I'll smack the shit out of your
mother
You wanna be gutter? I'll leave you laid out in the
street
Signed yours truly, the motherfucking Immortal
Technique.
