Hollywood Driveby
[Immortal Technique]Somebody talk shit to me in L.A., would never liveCause brown rolls deeper than red or blue, ever didI got bullets that'll rip through yo' ribsMore painful than watchin R. Kelly piss on yo' kidsHere's the ultimatum motherfucker, give me the ASCAPOr give America Biggie and 2Pac flashbacksSome niggaz don't think the underground is grimy and dirty'til they find your body on a fuckin highway in JerseyI fire rockets at generic topicsYour lyrics don't hold weight, like two-dimensional objectsCause jail culture didn't give you that fitted hatto memorize a ghostwritten shit verse and spit it backI won't let your wack rhymes redefine lyricismFor a whole generation with they fathers in prisonYou live inside the image of an era that's goneLike government officials tryin to justify VietnamI leave niggaz traumatized, like they momma diedAnd they was responsible for the drive-by homicideAnd I don't market revolution, I live itWhat you think cause you fake everyone else is a gimmick?Jealous bickering, industry slaves, the nerve of youLike a child prostitute born into a life of servitudeUntil we murder you, makin the red carpet burgundyWith PsychoRealm in the streets where I prefer to be
[Chorus: Immortal Technique]Hollywood drive-by, motherfuckin murder-festWeed clouds in the air, that cause turbulenceRevolucion, motherfucker you heard of itI light the spliff with the flag, while I'm burnin itHollywood drive-by, sprayin the cucarachasWar with the system like the streets of OaxacaYeah, revolucion, motherfucker you scared of it?Well it's comin to the industry now, so be prepared for it
[PsychoRealm]You're on some bullshit tracks, I spit them full-clip rapsWhile most of these gangsta rappers are some full-fledged ratsYou're on some bullshit tracks, I spit them full [scratches]You're on some bull {*scratches*} you're on some bull [scratches]
You're on some bullshit tracks, I spit them full-clip rapsWhile most of these gangsta rappers are some full-fledged ratsThe real G's stay strapped in full combatWhat you see in the videos is full-on actsThe streets don't believe you homieArmageddon in the rap game is comin and we lead the armyRock tear a tape out of yo' soundsGot hostages in pink, this is what they call hip-hop now?I keep that metro shit out of my whipMan that dummy rap is through makin money, it's about to extinctYou know the radio tryin to kill rap with that shitThe only thing dyin is the DJ's when the K spitWe're here to CEO's, and blow up A&R'sI'm takin your chips like crashing your game of cardsThis is how I eat holmes, I would give you buzzAnd take the life of these stars for this thing of ours
[Chorus]
[Sick Symphonies]Yeah, uhhI'm from the city of falling stars, the home of banging hardWaiting for them at the Radio City Hall to snatch 'em out their fucking carsExpose 'em for what they are - NARCs, jakes, snake informantsFeeding us horse shit, blaze up all of themThey say hip-hop doesn't existRappers talking hard dressed up like punk rock kidsPumped up by some corporate endorsement, dead corpses are voicelessNo one hears ya homie, ya little fame is overWe'll send little homies foreclosurelike bankers, cause you owe us the mortgageFor exploiting the lifestyle that many died, jailed up in storageLeaving most of us hopeless, homies radio focusedWhat we're building got 'em all afraidGive me the K, I'll be honored to ignite the flamethat'll, burn down the game, what's fame? Keep itA movement, a sonic war, motherfucker you sleepin