Right Here - Diabolic, Immortal Technique

Feels like I’m locked in hell’s gate and God’s my cellmate

Saying «plot this jailbreak, pop the cops who tailgate!»

You sealed your fate, prying inside my business

To find a mind as scientific as Mayan hieroglyphics

As God’s my witness, I’ll spit viral sickness

Like Bible-scripted Black Plague in the last day’s final minutes

On primal vicious grind, 'til my vinyl shipments climb

Through the grapevine to be the finest vintage wine

Sky’s the limit?

Fine, I’m in your atmosphere

The racketeer the sky into falling on your rap career

And I ain’t stacking near the millions I’m worth

'cuz saying something ill in a verse and having skills are a curse

But still, I got a feeling that this villain at work’ll be

More chillin' than still-born children at birth

I’m the king, my underlings are building my church

And when your mom close her eyes to pray, I’m stealing her purse

Now, God willing I become the illest on earth

Where love is hate, so I just pray your feelings get hurt

My life is tragic, so it’s only right I right the madness

Like being psychopathic’s my right of passage

Don’t care what the price of gas is, I’ll splash it on you

While I’m lighting matches and put out the flames with nitric acid

Spiteful bastard, I’m back with a vengeance

A fifth of Jack and Mac-11 to capture the essence

I’m just an artist getting closer to the edge

So when I go over, know I put my soul in what I said

For real, 'Bolic ain’t focused on the bread

I had enough of that, so if you with me where the fuck you at?

(Where the fuck you at?) We right here!

Fuck your gunfights, all I need is one mic and crowd time

And I can outshine the sunlight on cloud 9

For now I’m climbing uphill and grinding

'til I chill reclining on a diamond-studded silver lining

Fearless rhyming, but those skeptics don’t get it

Most said I dig my own grave, I’m too poetic

Stress like Po said, let’s Organize Konfusion

I’m just a microphone fiend, always high, using

The rush intoxicated me and fortified the movement

And plus I get to slaughter guys, all for my amusement

Drawing my conclusion, don’t need a label budget

So I’m saying «fuck it» like I’m way above it, you can hate or love it

Raised in Suffolk, fighting like I’m Razor Ruddock

Without a pot to piss in, urinate in public

In the home of Rakim, Erick Sermon, R.A.

the Rugged

Diabolic’s dancing with the devil angel-dusted

Bring the ruckus, let’s rumble in the slums

So I can punch you in the ribs 'til they’re puncturing your lungs

I’m just wondering, how the fuck you doubling your funds

By lying about scratching off the numbers on a gun?

Cuz the muthafuckas where I’m from feel inside

That even though Dilla died, hiphop is still alive

And it will survive the fake thugs talking tough

When I click the nine and get a dial tone and call your bluff