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

2 more days till payday an I buy division

COMPLETE ALL THE CRUCIBLE CHALLENGES! ATTEMPT ALL THE RAIDS! STRUGGLE THROUGH ALL THE NIGHTFALL! ENTER ALL THE PRISONS! GET OUT OF ALL THE PRISONS! ACQUIRE ALL THE ENGRAMS! And then cry, because I can't wear the gear I like because it's Y1.

Nothing anymore