mother fucker, stop pretendin

I'll murder you in front of your crib like John Lennon

rip the tendons outta your muscle to cut the tension

I'm beyond your comprehension

like related subatomic particles in fifth dimensions

suspension in your breathing is what I'm leaving

until a legion of demons whisper the meaning of life in ya ear

right before they make ya mother fucking life disappear

but just because you hear the multi-syllabic gramatical

don't compare me to rappers that are on sabbatical 

cause i never did business in little fucking Italy

i play checkers on triple-decker buses in Tripoli 

the way that you typically bicker with me, inexplicably

is a mystery that pisses me off ridiculously

because im lyrically beyond your level, scientifically

specifically, spitting out the spick in me, prolifically

im the majority of America, futuristically

after i die, fuck my music, you'll feel me spiritually

darker than Sicily, rippin above the averages

you hold no weight, like bitches after miscarriages

and your label 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 hopless, 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, rockin some blood-soaked Timbs

party-crashin animal, fuckin model bitches

leavin their stick-figure anorexic pussy in stitches

my verbal blitz is to outshine your offense

you're watered-down nonsense, and i'm 200-proof

chockin a local youth in his home-made vocal booth

you're a fucking incompetent killer like Ray Kurut

and i'm Technique, the rawest nigga ever produced

i spit nastier than regurgitating period juice

so burn your fucking rhymebook, stay warm, and put it to good use

im bout to drop like frozen airplane shit through ya roof

and im 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 mother fucker, you cats don't burn rubber

you niggas cant even get a cab like Danny Glubber

you aint hardcore, ill smack the shit outta your mother

you wanna be gutter? i'll leave you laid out in the street

signed yours truly, the mother fuckin Immortal Technique



						     



						     Thanks to ado