The Prediction

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
 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 assassins laughing while the New World's collapsing
 Mother Earth's ribs crashed in, armored caraways I'm blasting
 As the Earth rebels now 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 blackness and hair-twisted ghetto embargo lifted
 Power shifting comb fisting, I predict Goddesses you're 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 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 arm patch 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
 Nostradamus tell us how the story gets told (told, told)