Hollywood Drive-By

[Immortal Technique:] Somebody talked shit to me in L.A. and never lived 'Cause brown roll deeper than red or blue ever did I got bullets that'll rip through your ribs More painful than watching R. Kelly piss on your kids Here's the ultimatum mothafucka Give me that ass cap Or give America Biggie and Tupac flashbacks Some niggaz don't think the Underground is grimy and dirty 'Til they find your body on a fucking highway in Jersey I fire rockets at generic topics Your lyrics don't hold weight Like two-dimensional objects 'Cause jail culture didn't give you that fitted hat To memorize a ghostwritten shit verse and spit it back I won't let your wack rhymes redefine lyricism For a whole generation with their fathers in prison You live inside the image of an Era that's gone Like government officials trying to justify Vietnam I'll leave niggaz traumatized like they momma died And they was responsible for the driveby homicide And I don't market revolution, I live it What you think cause you fake everyone else is a gimmick Jealous bickering, industry slaves, the nerve of you Like a child prostitute born into a life of servitude Until we murder you making the red carpet burgundy The Psycho Realm and the streets were I prefer to be [Chorus] INCOMPLETE