paroles de chanson The Prediction - Nas
                                                [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 
                                                assassins 
                                                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
 
                                    
                                
                            1 Quiet Niggas
2 Come Get Me
3 Shoot 'em Up
4 The Prediction
5 Life We Chose
6 Nastradamus
7 Some Of Us Have Angels
8 Project Windows
9 Last Words
10 God Love Us
11 Family
12 New World
13 You Owe Me
14 The Outcome
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