Luyện nghe bài hát The Prediction

[Rich
What's brothers and sisters?
to our time

[Jessica Moore]
Afro-Angels hide my in tangles
Black Star Spangled, fragile like hematite with the oils I write
In spite the lack of sunlight, got my boots tight
Now the government's gone, can't tell your left from your right
We the assassins while the New World's collapsin
Mother Earth's ribs in, armored carways I'm blastin
As the rebels now womb swells
The birth of Magic, savin my people force of habit
You can't find if you never had it
Spiritually crafted blackness and ghetto embargo lifted
Power-shiftin comb-fistin I predict Goddesses you runnin after
I my fourteen stitches
all my baby girl wishes
I all the oceans turn dry
Not one baby girl will cry as you attempt to grow broccoli the desert
We will take our pregnant bodies, from underground rivers
your face between our legs
While recreating humanity, we will yem and yaw
Search for our fertility, ban all pink and yellow
Ban all pink and pills
I predict killing fields of ghetto anti-Hatch
Hate will be bombed
Childbirth outlawed
Always be branded numbered and barred
All money is gone
Though few can interpret our scrolls
Your sky has
We the young is old
Nastradamus tell us how the story gets