"Mothafucka's made me out of self-righteous hatred. And now you got yourself a virus, stuck in the matrix. A suicide bomber, strapped up ready to blow, lethal injection, strapped down, ready to go. Don't you understand they'll never let me live out in peace? Concrete jungle, guerrilla war out in the streets. Nat Turner with the sickle, pitchfork and machete. The end of the world, mothafucka, you not ready. My people are so hungry they'll attack without reason, like a fucking dog ripping off the hand that feeds him. Immortal Technique is treason to the Patriot Act, so come and get me muthafucka, cause I'm not coming back."

“And rememba' something nigga' while you rave and rant, a roach can live for nine days without it's head but you can't”

“They say the rebels in Iraq still fight for Saddam, but that's bullshit, I'll shows you why that's totally wrong.”

“Using numerology to count the people I sent to heaven produces more digits than twenty-two divided by seven.”

“And it’s amazing how they trained them, To be racist against themselves in the place they was raised in, You kept us caged in, Destroyed our culture and said that you civilized us, Raped our women and when we were born, you despised us, Gentrified us, agent provocateur divide us, And crucified every revolutionary messiah”

“I hope one of my fans has one of your kids shot: and blames it on acid, prozac and slipknot”

“Universal truth is not measured in mass appeal, this is the last time I kneel and pray to the sky, cause almost everything I was ever told was a lie”