[Intro: Immortal Technique + Friend]
— Yo, yo, son, give me that newspaper!
— Yeah, aight, here you go!
— Man, I hate this one, yo. You know, the post is always on some bias racist bullshit, man. Word, I mean, on The Daily News…
— (Laughs) Word, I feel you…
— They ridiculous, man. Times are better, but they still on some bullshit!
— (Laughs) I know that, man. (Hiss)
— Another nigga killed by these fucking cops, yo!
— What? Word? Psh…
— See, that's why I gotta get the fuck outta here, man. I need some peace. I need something like that or I'ma just start blastin' these fucking pigs, man!
— I feel you, son. (laughs)
— For real, yo!
— Yo, son, fuck it then. Let's do somethin', man, let's see some mamis out there!
— You know what? Matter of fact, pack the bags…
— Aight then!
— Start the fucking whip up! I'm outta here, yo, for real!
[Verse: Immortal Technique]
Yo, I hate my job, so I always look to a better day
Far from New York City on a tropical getaway
But not in Miami
‘Cause these white Cuban anti-Castro's can't stand me
And that's the reason I'll never win a fixed up Latin Grammy
After this racist Latinos'll goddamn me
But my black people love me
And when I go to South America, people be tryna hug me
‘Cause I talk about reality that effects them
And even though I blew up I could never neglect them
What kind of a revolutionary action would that be?
I be categorizing practically every other MC
But never that, ‘cause I'm clever with facts, sever your raps
Fake players and thugs will forever be whack
I'm still rollin' with my squadron heavily strapped
And even if I get killed I'll inevitably be back
Encyclopedia Hispanica over digital dat
Don't ever compare me with small-minded criminal cats
I kill kids on tracks, like Dale Earnhardt
Spit in your face and leave your cheekbone with a burn mark
I was born a genius, but I learned to be street smart
My vacation just started, I'm out to the Caribbean
Swimmin' in Dominican women the color of cinnamon
You mothafuckers wish you had the lifestyle I'm livin' in
— Yo, yo, son, give me that newspaper!
— Yeah, aight, here you go!
— Man, I hate this one, yo. You know, the post is always on some bias racist bullshit, man. Word, I mean, on The Daily News…
— (Laughs) Word, I feel you…
— They ridiculous, man. Times are better, but they still on some bullshit!
— (Laughs) I know that, man. (Hiss)
— Another nigga killed by these fucking cops, yo!
— What? Word? Psh…
— See, that's why I gotta get the fuck outta here, man. I need some peace. I need something like that or I'ma just start blastin' these fucking pigs, man!
— I feel you, son. (laughs)
— For real, yo!
— Yo, son, fuck it then. Let's do somethin', man, let's see some mamis out there!
— You know what? Matter of fact, pack the bags…
— Aight then!
— Start the fucking whip up! I'm outta here, yo, for real!
[Verse: Immortal Technique]
Yo, I hate my job, so I always look to a better day
Far from New York City on a tropical getaway
But not in Miami
‘Cause these white Cuban anti-Castro's can't stand me
And that's the reason I'll never win a fixed up Latin Grammy
After this racist Latinos'll goddamn me
But my black people love me
And when I go to South America, people be tryna hug me
‘Cause I talk about reality that effects them
And even though I blew up I could never neglect them
What kind of a revolutionary action would that be?
I be categorizing practically every other MC
But never that, ‘cause I'm clever with facts, sever your raps
Fake players and thugs will forever be whack
I'm still rollin' with my squadron heavily strapped
And even if I get killed I'll inevitably be back
Encyclopedia Hispanica over digital dat
Don't ever compare me with small-minded criminal cats
I kill kids on tracks, like Dale Earnhardt
Spit in your face and leave your cheekbone with a burn mark
I was born a genius, but I learned to be street smart
My vacation just started, I'm out to the Caribbean
Swimmin' in Dominican women the color of cinnamon
You mothafuckers wish you had the lifestyle I'm livin' in
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