the prophecy
So you're the motherfucker they call Immortal Technique
What the fuck make you so special, nigga?
Huh? What the fuck do you do?
I calculate planet alignment like Mayan astronomy
Discoverin' atrocities
Worse than Aristotle subjectin' children to sodomy
Your theory of the galaxy is primitive like Ptolemy
The truth about the universe dug 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
Searchin' for monogamy
And cuttin' fake bitches out of my mind like a lobotomy
So obviously I'm not gonna be here to play games
Walk 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 fuck 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 motherfuckers think of me
I might be nobody, but wait 'til I'm together like a symphony
Resoundin' sound that will continue infinitely
Angel of Death punishin' 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 throwin' ice cubes at the sun
A victory against Immortal Technique will never be done
Just degrees of losin' it every second you're addin' one
Some niggas dream of pushin' kilos, but I drop tons
With more facts and formulas and philosophical logic
Then a basement full of scientists puffin' on chronic
Dip the mic in potassium cyanide and liquid bubonic
And use it as a sonic wand to find the spawn of the demonic
Screamin' 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
Because 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 3000 is bleak, no happily ever after
Just death following the Fourth Reich disaster
A legacy of bastards, with plastic explosives
Your future's been eroded, 'cause you forgot that when your free it's multiplied indefinitely
By the struggle that be, the struggle I see
To socialistically unite the Third World countries
Expose hypocrisy in America's democracy
Sloppily obsessed with stoppin' me 'cause I speak prophecy
Trample and dismantle your capitalist philosophy
The same way I stomp the conquerin' rap monopoly
And I'm not a fuckin' prophet… but that's the fuckin' prophecy