Diabolic Feat. Immortal Technique - Frontlines | Текст песни

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• Diabolic Feat. Immortal Technique
• Frontlines

[Diabolic]

Forget what you knew,
Welcome to the muthafuckin battlefield,

[Diabolic: Verse 1]

I two-step with Lucifer, and ever since i started dancin’,
I’ve walked a fine line between Einstein and Charles Manson,
Starvin’ in this famine with my stomach growlin’,
Like someone shouting a hundred thousand times louder than thunder poundin’,
Fuck around and I’ll punch you’re mouth in,
I’m king of the mountain, with my life in this project like its public housing,
Counting on the fact i fire bomb entire songs,
And won’t stop until the worlds inside my palm like Viacom,
Diabolic, I’ll supply the higher wattage via fibre optic wire,
Until you acquire some kinda knowledge,
Coz’ life made me grow wiser than old-timers,
Hot-headed like the ghost rider behind a slow driver,
Sole survivor, flowin’ lava’s second nature,
So don’t test, its best to save you’re breath like respirators,
I’ll throw a punch at you’re ribs that gives you’re lungs asthma,
And has you pouring out you’re guts faster than Dutch Masters,
Drunk bastard, past the point of no return,
Like Denzel trickin’ Ethan Hawke into smokin’ sherm,
Judgement overturned, held in court like Mordecai,
Mortalize when i make statues bleed and portraits cry,
I’ll go to war for mine, Rebel Army guard the border,
I’m in the trenches barkin’ orders like I’m Sergeant Slaughter,
Pray to Jesus H for mercy and plead you’re case,
Coz’ on the frontlines you’re dead the second that you see my face!

[Hook: Immortal Technique]

This is the frontline, this is the dead-zone, barely alive or in a box is how you head home,
This is the frontline, this is the life that i chose, i thought i told you muthafuckas to lock and load,

[Hook: Diabolic]

This is the frontline, this is the dead-zone, barely alive or in a box is how you head home,
This is the frontline, this is the life that i chose, i thought i told you muthafuckas to lock and load,

[Immortal Technique: Verse 2]

Yeah

They said that the success of my music was theoretic,
But my revenge is sweet enough to murder diabetics,
Eugenics procter and gamble credit racial science,
Couldn’t produce a more aggressive intellectual giant,
Nephilim bury em’, with the bullets left in them,
My heart is blacker than the children of Thomas Jefferson,
Blacker than back in the days of tar and featherin,
A cancerous endocrine, the eagle-ass American,
The hatchet and the sticks, the fascist emblem,
You could call it “Conspiracy Theory”,
I don’t give a muthafuck, you could get your mother fucked,
National security’s a code-word for cover-up,
Hold that down, I look at character,
Never let the color get to ya,
I got white Revolutionaries like Muslims in Chechnya,
Percussion thumpin’ like the Russian Mafia over ya,
But even they know what it’s like when you fighting for Svoboda,
So whether Slavic, or Islamic, vodka/gin tonic,
Drunken fantasies are cool son, but here’s the grim logic,
You niggas wanna play industry, and starve to be rich ,
Until they fuck you for millions, like Paul McCartney’s bitch,
My lions live inside a box like Jumanji,
Sikh niggaz that’ll stab you up like Indira Gandhi,
So never desecrate the space on which I meditate,
My thoughts rip through tank-armored metalplates,
And start to resenate, to the spot where Moses caused the sea to seperate
The place that the Prophet Muhammad started to levitate,
The exact moment that Jesus rose dead awake,
And Siddhartha became the Buddha that regenerates,
Half a bar over but I bring it home colder than dead soldiers,
Soul controler, holder of knowledge, so fuck dianetics,
I’m like the whole library in Kemet with Annunaki genetics!

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