(Immortal Technique)
Immortal Technique: The profile of a wanted man
Persecuted everywhere by the Blue Klux Clan
Cops don't stop in searches cause they think we a threat
They making money for the prison industrial complex
Extorting hookers for s** and then arresting them
And murdering people of color instead of protecting them
You k**ed Patrick Dorismond and then disrespected them
Now most cops will disagree with the sh** that I spit
But I got 41 reasons to tell you to s** a dick,
You mobile facsimile living fecal matter
Your a walking piece of sh**, you deserve to be splattered
f*ggits with nightsticks giving brothers an enema,
Cause their racist like cla**ical Hollywood cinema
Systematically chasing our people and abusing em'
Like Romans genociding Jews in New Jerusalem
Guns don't look like wallets, how the f** we confusing em'?
We losing them, everyday, and its getting me pissed
They barely admit, that racial profiling exists
But politicians still condemn it, sounding hypocritical
Innocent victims, getting statistically typical
I resist arrest; I don't wanna be taken alive
I'd rather die standing than live kneeling, broken inside
A cop stopped me once; and co*ked a loaded gun in my grill
And that's the reason that I have no fear of being k**ed
(S.O.U.L. Purpose)
Some pieces of life are really hard to swallow
Nowadays I hit you with a harder tip, that's hollow
No justice, no peace, like Diallo
Amadou, what i gotta do, to stand my ground
All my peeps, frozen in these ice cold streets
Which only get hot, when cops is on blocks with heat
With little, or no conscience, yappin' your nonsense
Need to fear God instead of having his complex
Police patrol, hurts the cattle and tame
Sad of sick of seeing certain individuals slain
Like my man Lawrence got bucked, at point blank range
By a coward a** cop, splattered part of his brain
Not knowing in seconds; He causing infinite pain
With you, your whack crew, your whole setup I blame
Playing Judge, Jury, Executioner; shackled and chained
Tell me how you live your life, everyday with no shame
You only paid to do your job, so what else do you gain
I fight the power til' the last drip of blood in my vein
b**h, have-witted, flat footed son of a swine
With you're fellow f*gs and yellow cabs coming for mine
Go ahead, eat your donuts and walk your whack beat
I stay away from most beef, and the other white meat
But if sh** hits the fan I resort to true action
How 'bout we play a game; I throw slugs and you catch 'em