The Prediction

[Rich Nice] What's happenin brothers and sisters? Welcome to our time [Jessica Care Moore] Afro-Angels hide my weapons in tangles Black Star Spangled, fragile like hematite with the East oils I write In spite the lack of sunlight, got my battle boots tight Now that the government's gone, can't tell your left from your right We the a*sa*sins laughin while the New World's collapsin Mother Earth's ribs crashed in, armored carways I'm blastin As the Earth rebels now womb swells The birth of Black Magic, savin my people force of habit You can't find if you ain't never had it Spiritually crafted blackness and hair-twisted ghetto embargo lifted Power-shiftin comb-fistin I predict Goddesses you runnin 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 yem and yaw Search for our fertility, ban all pink and yellow pills Ban all pink and yellow pills I predict killing fields of ghetto armpatch anti-Hatch Hate groups will be bombed Childbirth becomes outlawed Always will be branded numbered and barred All paper money is gone Though few scholars can interpret our scrolls Your sky has holes We know the young is old Nastradamus tell us how the story gets told