Luyện nghe bài hát The Prediction

[Rich
What's happenin brothers and
Welcome to our

Care Moore]
Afro-Angels hide my in tangles
Black Star Spangled, fragile hematite with the East oils I write
In spite the lack of sunlight, got my boots tight
Now that the government's gone, tell your left from your right
We the assassins laughin the New World's collapsin
Mother ribs crashed in, armored carways I'm blastin
As the Earth rebels now womb
The birth of Black Magic, savin my people force of
You find if you ain't never had it
Spiritually crafted blackness and hair-twisted ghetto lifted
comb-fistin I predict Goddesses you runnin after witches
I my fourteen stitches
Keep all my girl wishes
I predict all the oceans dry
Not one baby girl will cry as you attempt to grow broccoli the desert
We will our pregnant bodies, drink from underground rivers
Wash your between our legs
While recreating humanity, we summon yem and yaw
Search for our fertility, ban all pink and yellow
Ban all pink and yellow
I predict killing fields of ghetto armpatch
groups will be bombed
Childbirth becomes
Always will be branded numbered and
All paper money is
few scholars can interpret our scrolls
Your sky has
We the young is old
tell us how the story gets told