"The Prediction" lyrics
(feat. Jessica Care Moore, Rich Nice)
What's happening brothers and sisters?
Welcome to our time
Afro-Angels hide my weapons in tangles
Black Star Spangled, fragile like hematite with the East oils I write
Despite the lack of sunlight, got my battle boots tight
Now that the government's gone, can't tell your left from your right
Winged assassins laughing while the New World's collapsing
Mother Earth's ribs crashed in, armed with cowries, I'm blasting
As the Earth rebels my womb swells
The birth of Black Magic, saving my people force of habit
You can't find if you ain't never had it
Spiritually crafted black-listed hair-twisted ghetto embargo lifted
Power-shifting comb-fisting I predict Goddesses you running after witches
I kiss my fourteen stitches
Keep all my baby girl wishes
I predict all the oceans turn dry
Not one baby girl will cry as you attempt to grow broccoli from the desert
We will take our pregnant bodies, drink from underground rivers
Wash your face between our legs
While recreating humanity, we will summon yemanja
Search for our fertility, ban all pink and yellow pills
Ban all pink and yellow pills
I predict killing fields of ghetto arm patch anti-Hatch
Hate groups will be bombed
Childbirth becomes outlawed
Always will be branded numbered and logged
All paper money is gone
Confused scholars can't interpret our scrolls
Your sky has holes
We know the young is old
Nastradamus tell us how the story gets told
Welcome to our time
Afro-Angels hide my weapons in tangles
Black Star Spangled, fragile like hematite with the East oils I write
Despite the lack of sunlight, got my battle boots tight
Now that the government's gone, can't tell your left from your right
Winged assassins laughing while the New World's collapsing
Mother Earth's ribs crashed in, armed with cowries, I'm blasting
As the Earth rebels my womb swells
The birth of Black Magic, saving my people force of habit
You can't find if you ain't never had it
Spiritually crafted black-listed hair-twisted ghetto embargo lifted
Power-shifting comb-fisting I predict Goddesses you running after witches
I kiss my fourteen stitches
Keep all my baby girl wishes
I predict all the oceans turn dry
Not one baby girl will cry as you attempt to grow broccoli from the desert
We will take our pregnant bodies, drink from underground rivers
Wash your face between our legs
While recreating humanity, we will summon yemanja
Search for our fertility, ban all pink and yellow pills
Ban all pink and yellow pills
I predict killing fields of ghetto arm patch anti-Hatch
Hate groups will be bombed
Childbirth becomes outlawed
Always will be branded numbered and logged
All paper money is gone
Confused scholars can't interpret our scrolls
Your sky has holes
We know the young is old
Nastradamus tell us how the story gets told
Writer(s): R. Jackson, J.c. Moore
