Hollywood Driveby Lyrics - The 3rd World - Immortal Technique & Dj Green Lantern

[Immortal Technique] 

Somebody talk shit to me in L.A., would never live 

Cause brown rolls deeper than red or blue, ever did 

I got bullets that'll rip through yo' ribs 

More painful than watchin R. Kelly piss on yo' kids 

Here's the ultimatum motherfucker, give me the ASCAP 

Or give America Biggie and 2Pac flashbacks 

Some niggaz don't think the underground is grimy and dirty 

'til they find your body on a fuckin 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 they fathers in prison 

You live inside the image of an era that's gone 

Like government officials tryin to justify Vietnam 

I leave niggaz traumatized, like they momma died 

And they was responsible for the drive-by 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, makin the red carpet burgundy 

With PsychoRealm in the streets where I prefer to be 

[Chorus: Immortal Technique] 

Hollywood drive-by, motherfuckin murder-fest 

Weed clouds in the air, that cause turbulence 

Revolucion, motherfucker you heard of it 

I light the spliff with the flag, while I'm burnin it 

Hollywood drive-by, sprayin the cucarachas 

War with the system like the streets of Oaxaca 

Yeah, revolucion, motherfucker you scared of it? 

Well it's comin to the industry now, so be prepared for it 

[PsychoRealm] 

You're on some bullshit tracks, I spit them full-clip raps 

While most of these gangsta rappers are some full-fledged rats 

You're on some bullshit tracks, I spit them full [scratches] 

You're on some bull {*scratches*} you're on some bull [scratches] 

You're on some bullshit tracks, I spit them full-clip raps 

While most of these gangsta rappers are some full-fledged rats 

The real G's stay strapped in full combat 

What you see in the videos is full-on acts 

The streets don't believe you homie 

Armageddon in the rap game is comin and we lead the army 

Rock tear a tape out of yo' sounds 

Got hostages in pink, this is what they call hip-hop now? 

I keep that metro shit out of my whip 

Man that dummy rap is through makin money, it's about to extinct 

You know the radio tryin to kill rap with that shit 

The only thing dyin is the DJ's when the K spit 

We're here to CEO's, and blow up A&R's 

I'm takin your chips like crashing your game of cards 

This is how I eat holmes, I would give you buzz 

And take the life of these stars for this thing of ours 

[Chorus] 

[Sick Symphonies] 

Yeah, uhh 

I'm from the city of falling stars, the home of banging hard 

Waiting for them at the Radio City Hall to snatch 'em out their fucking cars 

Expose 'em for what they are - NARCs, jakes, snake informants 

Feeding us horse shit, blaze up all of them 

They say hip-hop doesn't exist 

Rappers talking hard dressed up like punk rock kids 

Pumped up by some corporate endorsement, dead corpses are voiceless 

No one hears ya homie, ya little fame is over 

We'll send little homies foreclosure 

like bankers, cause you owe us the mortgage 

For exploiting the lifestyle that many died, jailed up in storage 

Leaving most of us hopeless, homies radio focused 

What we're building got 'em all afraid 

Give me the K, I'll be honored to ignite the flame 

that'll, burn down the game, what's fame? Keep it 

A movement, a sonic war, motherfucker you sleepin 

[Chorus]