| Forget what you knew,
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| Welcome to the muthafuckin battlefield,
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| I two-step with Lucifer, and ever since i started dancin',
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| I’ve walked a fine line between Einstein and Charles Manson,
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| Starvin' in this famine with my stomach growlin',
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| Like someone shouting a hundred thousand times louder than thunder poundin',
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| Fuck around and I’ll punch you’re mouth in,
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| I’m king of the mountain, with my life in this project like its public housing,
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| Counting on the fact i fire bomb entire songs,
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| And won’t stop until the worlds inside my palm like Viacom,
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| Diabolic, I’ll supply the higher wattage via fibre optic wire,
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| Until you acquire some kinda knowledge,
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| Coz' life made me grow wiser than old-timers,
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| Hot-headed like the ghost rider behind a slow driver,
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| Sole survivor, flowin' lava’s second nature,
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| So don’t test, its best to save you’re breath like respirators,
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| I’ll throw a punch at you’re ribs that gives you’re lungs asthma,
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| And has you pouring out you’re guts faster than Dutch Masters,
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| Drunk bastard, past the point of no return,
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| Like Denzel trickin' Ethan Hawke into smokin' sherm,
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| Judgement overturned, held in court like Mordecai,
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| Mortalize when i make statues bleed and portraits cry,
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| I’ll go to war for mine, Rebel Army guard the border,
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| I’m in the trenches barkin' orders like I’m Sergeant Slaughter,
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| Pray to Jesus H for mercy and plead you’re case,
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| Coz' on the frontlines you’re dead the second that you see my face!
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| This is the frontline, this is the dead-zone, barely alive or in a box is how
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| you head home,
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| This is the frontline, this is the life that i chose, i thought i told you
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| muthafuckas to lock and load,
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| This is the frontline, this is the dead-zone, barely alive or in a box is how
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| you head home,
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| This is the frontline, this is the life that i chose, i thought i told you
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| muthafuckas to lock and load,
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| Yeah
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| They said that the success of my music was theoretic,
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| But my revenge is sweet enough to murder diabetics,
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| Eugenics procter and gamble credit racial science,
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| Couldn’t produce a more aggressive intellectual giant,
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| Nephilim bury em', with the bullets left in them,
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| My heart is blacker than the children of Thomas Jefferson,
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| Blacker than back in the days of tar and featherin,
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| A cancerous endocrine, the eagle-ass American,
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| The hatchet and the sticks, the fascist emblem,
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| You could call it «Conspiracy Theory»,
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| I don’t give a muthafuck, you could get your mother fucked,
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| National security’s a code-word for cover-up,
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| Hold that down, I look at character,
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| Never let the color get to ya,
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| I got white Revolutionaries like Muslims in Chechnya,
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| Percussion thumpin' like the Russian Mafia over ya,
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| But even they know what it’s like when you fighting for Svoboda,
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| So whether Slavic, or Islamic, vodka/gin tonic,
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| Drunken fantasies are cool son, but here’s the grim logic,
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| You niggas wanna play industry, and starve to be rich,
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| Until they fuck you for millions, like Paul McCartney’s bitch,
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| My lions live inside a box like Jumanji,
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| Sikh niggaz that’ll stab you up like Indira Gandhi,
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| So never desecrate the space on which I meditate,
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| My thoughts rip through tank-armored metalplates,
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| And start to resenate, to the spot where Moses caused the sea to seperate
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| The place that the Prophet Muhammad started to levitate,
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| The exact moment that Jesus rose dead awake,
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| And Siddhartha became the Buddha that regenerates,
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| Half a bar over but I bring it home colder than dead soldiers,
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| Soul controler, holder of knowledge, so fuck dianetics,
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| I’m like the whole library in Kemet with Annunaki genetics!
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| This is the frontline, this is the dead-zone, barely alive or in a box is how
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| you head home,
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| This is the frontline, this is the life that i chose, i thought i told you
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| muthafuckas to lock and load,
|
| This is the frontline, this is the dead-zone, barely alive or in a box is how
|
| you head home,
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| This is the frontline, this is the life that i chose, i thought i told you
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| muthafuckas to lock and load!
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| Yeah muthafuckaz,
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| Immortal Technique / Diabolic
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| This is the Frontline, the people first; |
| one time,
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| 32… and a little somethin, ahahaha
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| 33 Degrees muthafucka, go home and figure it out… |