Luyện nghe bài hát The Prediction

[Rich
What's happenin and sisters?
Welcome to our

Care Moore]
Afro-Angels hide my weapons in
Black Star Spangled, fragile like hematite with the oils I write
In the lack of sunlight, got my battle boots tight
Now that the government's gone, can't tell your left from your
We the assassins laughin the New World's collapsin
Mother ribs crashed in, armored carways I'm blastin
As the Earth rebels now swells
The birth of Black Magic, savin my people of habit
You can't find if you ain't had it
Spiritually blackness and hair-twisted ghetto embargo lifted
Power-shiftin I predict Goddesses you runnin after witches
I my fourteen stitches
Keep all my girl wishes
I predict all the turn dry
Not one baby girl will cry as you to grow broccoli from the desert
We will our pregnant bodies, drink from underground rivers
your face between our legs
While recreating humanity, we will yem and yaw
Search for our fertility, ban all pink and pills
Ban all pink and yellow
I predict fields of ghetto armpatch anti-Hatch
groups will be bombed
Childbirth becomes
will be branded numbered and barred
All paper is gone
Though few can interpret our scrolls
Your sky has
We the young is old
Nastradamus us how the story gets told