Immortal Technique - The Prophecy Lyrics
So you're the mother*****er they call....Immortal TechniqueWhat the ***** make you so special nigga?Huh... what the ***** do you do?I calculate planet alignment like Mayan astronomyDiscovering atrocities worst than AristotleSubjecting children to sodomyYour theory of the galaxy is primitive like telomeThe truth about the universe stuck up like Aztec potteryUnpredictable results like experimental psychologyI stomp the streets with MC's beneath my feet in coloniesBut presentation and spirit revolve around autonomySearching for monogamyAnd cutting fake *****es out of my mind like a lobotomySo obviously I'm not gonna be here to play gamesWalked the top of the world and leave the arctic circle in flamesBattle the beast and false prophet predicted in the King JamesI give a ***** about your emcee name I don't admire youOnly by dental records will you be identifiableCause the future is not reliableRemember when rap was not economically viableComparable to what mother*****ers think of meI might be nobody but wait till I'm together like a symphonyResounding sound that will continue infinitelyAngel of death punishing all those who live in infamyAnd shine so far away from youYou'll never get a glimpse of meAttempts to extinguish me don't even bother me noneLike retarded kids throwing ice cubes at the sunA victory against Immortal Technique will never be doneJust degrees of losing it every second your adding oneSome niggas dream of pushing kilos but I drop tonsWith more facts and formulas and philosophical logicThen a basement full of scientists puffing on chronicDipped in mycin potassium cyanide and liquid bubonicAnd use it as a sonic one to find the spawn of the demonicScreaming like onyx is of absolutely no consequenceThe poison is dense enough to clog up your arteriesMercy is not a part of meI cause you bodily injury permanently be simply verbally murdering meIs inconceivable cause of the unbelievable evil injected insideThe blood stream of my peopleAnd redemption is not located under a church steepleThe feeble and the meek in soul just like the techniqueWill inherit the earth, But the earth will be weakMother earth in her decrepit terminal illness physiqueThe year three thousand is bleak no happily ever afterJust death following the forth right disaster, a legacy of bastardsWith plastic explosives your futures been erodedCause you forgot that when your free it's multiplied indefinitelyBy the struggle that be the struggle I seeTo socialistically united the third world countriesExpose hypocrisy in Americas democracySloppily obsessed with stopping me cause I speak prophecyTrample and dismantle your capitalist philosophyThe same way I stomp the conquering rap monopolyAnd I'm not a *****ing prophetBut that's the *****ing prophecy
