Scene: A dimly lit rooftop in New York, late at night.
The city hums below, neon lights cutting through the dark. G.I. Joe sits on a steel beam, helmet off, cigarette glowing faintly. Across from him, Immortal Technique leans against the rail, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
G.I. Joe:
“You know, Tech, they keep telling us 9/11 was about terror. About fear. But when I look at the rubble… I see a different kind of weapon.”
Immortal Technique:
“What weapon?”
G.I. Joe (flicks ash):
“A paper shredder. The biggest one the world’s ever seen. Buildings full of files, records, receipts… gone in smoke and dust. Enron was drowning in fraud. Companies up to their necks in cooked books. That day wasn’t just an attack—it was a cleanup.”
Immortal Technique (nodding slowly):
“Destroy the evidence, wipe the slate. The same way they do it in the hood, just with billion-dollar corporate lawyers instead of street corner hustlers.”
G.I. Joe (half-smirks):
“You ever see that Jim Carrey flick? Fun with Dick and Jane? There’s this scene where they jam the shredder, papers flying everywhere—chaos, confetti. That’s what the towers were. A comedy bit for the elite. Except the punchline was thousands of lives.”
Immortal Technique (voice rising, fists clenched):
“And the people paid the price for their ‘audit.’ The wars, the surveillance, the fear economy. They don’t just shred paper—they shred flesh, families, futures.”
G.I. Joe (low, grim):
“Exactly. Terror was the cover story. But underneath? Just another balance sheet adjustment. They turned a skyline into a bonfire, so the smoke would hide their crimes.”
Immortal Technique (after a pause):
“Then it’s our job to be the fire alarm. To tell the world the system’s still burning.”
They lock eyes, the city lights flickering below like dying embers.
[The beat is only the hum of the city. G.I. Joe starts, voice steady like a cadence call.]
G.I. Joe:
Yo, they said it was terror, smoke and flame,
But I’m tellin’ you, brother, it was just a game.
Not bombs, not planes, not jihad crusaders,
9/11 was the world’s biggest paper shredder.
Files vanished, Enron’s sins erased,
Evidence buried, no trail, no trace.
Think Jim Carrey in Dick and Jane when the shredder jammed,
Only this time, the whole skyline got slammed.
[Immortal Technique steps forward, voice sharp like a blade.]
Immortal Technique:
Word—truth in the rubble, lies on TV,
But the hustle was bigger than the eye could see.
They shred more than paper, they shred human lives,
Shred futures, communities, husbands and wives.
Call it cleanup, a balance sheet war,
But the poor got drafted, the rich wrote the score.
Audit with fire, cover with fear,
The empire cashed checks while we buried our peers.
[G.I. Joe nods, his tone low, soldier’s grit mixing with anger.]
G.I. Joe:
Terror was the cover, the alibi disguise,
But I saw the smoke screens, I heard the cries.
Files gone, secrets deep in the dust,
A new age of war, built on broken trust.
[Immortal Technique closes with fire in his eyes, voice rising like a sermon.]
Immortal Technique:
Then let the sirens wail, let the truth be told,
Expose the confetti made of lies and gold.
From the ashes we rise, from the system’s deceit,
If the streets are the cipher, then the world’s on beat.