Industrial Revolution Immortal Technique
"Industrial Revolution" by Immortal Technique, released in 2001, is a #HipHop track that critiques capitalism, imperialism, and societal oppression. The lyrics convey themes of resistance and awareness, highlighting the struggles of marginalized communities. Unique elements include aggressive delivery and complex wordplay. The song has influenced political activism within hip-hop culture.
[Intro]
The day of the geechee is gone boy
And you goin' with it
Yeah, nigga
Immortal Technique
Metaphysics
[Verse 1]
The bling-bling era was cute but it's about to be done
I leave you full of clips like the Moon blocking the Sun
My metaphors are dirty like herpes but harder to catch
Like an escape tunnel in prison, I started from scratch
And now these parasites want a percent of my ASCAP
Trying to control perspective like a acid flashback
But here's a quotable for every single record exec
"Get your fucking hands out my pocket, nigga!" like Malcolm X
But this ain’t a movie, I'm not a fan or a groupie
And I'm not the type of cat you can afford to miss if you shoot me
Curse the Heavens and laugh when the sky electrocutes me
Immortal Technique stuck in your thoughts, darkening dreams
No one's as good as me—they just got better marketing schemes
I'll lead you to your own destruction like sparking a fiend
'Cause you got jealousy in your voice like Starscream
And that's the primary reason that I hate y'all faggots
I've been nice since niggas got killed over 8-ball jackets
And Reebok Pumps that didn't do shit for the sneaker
I'm a heatseaker with features that'll reach through the speaker
And murder counter-revolutionaries personally
Break a thermometer and force-feed his kids mercury
A&R's tried jerking me, thinking they call shots
Offered me a deal and a blanket full of smallpox
You're all getting shot, you little fucking treacherous bitches!
The day of the geechee is gone boy
And you goin' with it
Yeah, nigga
Immortal Technique
Metaphysics
[Verse 1]
The bling-bling era was cute but it's about to be done
I leave you full of clips like the Moon blocking the Sun
My metaphors are dirty like herpes but harder to catch
Like an escape tunnel in prison, I started from scratch
And now these parasites want a percent of my ASCAP
Trying to control perspective like a acid flashback
But here's a quotable for every single record exec
"Get your fucking hands out my pocket, nigga!" like Malcolm X
But this ain’t a movie, I'm not a fan or a groupie
And I'm not the type of cat you can afford to miss if you shoot me
Curse the Heavens and laugh when the sky electrocutes me
Immortal Technique stuck in your thoughts, darkening dreams
No one's as good as me—they just got better marketing schemes
I'll lead you to your own destruction like sparking a fiend
'Cause you got jealousy in your voice like Starscream
And that's the primary reason that I hate y'all faggots
I've been nice since niggas got killed over 8-ball jackets
And Reebok Pumps that didn't do shit for the sneaker
I'm a heatseaker with features that'll reach through the speaker
And murder counter-revolutionaries personally
Break a thermometer and force-feed his kids mercury
A&R's tried jerking me, thinking they call shots
Offered me a deal and a blanket full of smallpox
You're all getting shot, you little fucking treacherous bitches!
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