[Intro: Kananelo Malissa Phakisi]
[?]
(Black future)
(Black future)

[Verse 1]
For gods and mortal men
Women, children, n***as, bitches, and distant kin
Jehovah witnessed him, door knock for immigrants
Plymouth Rock layin' pillagin'
Manhunt for the blood of the Rankine 'Citizen'
Been held, caught, still bought, from Earth to Mae Jemison
Orbit out of order, foreign daughters esteemed lineage
Sun, stars, Venus, Mars, Morse codes written in my North node
'Cross the moon, longitude ecliptic shit
Journey been the flame, canary cage, long sentences
Feet weary, the pain of war between me and my bitterness
Still in line with picket signs, the fast cars, the picket fence
Wilson Pickett, Engine Number #9, pickin' cotton off the vine
Because the 'fro flat on that one side
Learn to laugh so you don't cry, a spell cast with closed eyes
When the math never add up, a dollar short and hard to come by
Unh, my goodness, unh
For the billy bad-ass brother, for the outcast, the tough guy
For color girls when the rainbow's enuf, the cloud and sunshine
The chic on your shoulder for those vocal and tongue-tied
For broke, ill, and hopeless, magnum opus, stunning align
For those [?] skin from blackest [?] to light in the night sky
A lunar eclipse, a grimace, glimpse the world shift, a sunrise
An ancient future rich between hips, thinking what thighs
Take this dandelion, go make a wish for the old pie
Fuck the slice shit, the piece of cake, pecan praline spikes
Casket nine lives, my cousin got life for three strikes
Since twelve been in the system, sixteen bars of heat like
At twenty-one his gun made him run like kids before the streetlight
Colt .45, call me baby girl, trying to maintain, find peace, right?
Man's world ain't no place for a n***a like me, it seems like
We'll freeze like it's a state of mind, that the state of mind for me in life
[Interlude]
Hello? Junior? Junior? (Black fu—)
Junior? H-hello? (Fu-fu-fu-fu, bl-bl-bla-black fut—)
(Black future)
Hello?

[Verse 2]
Unh, my British friends call me wicked, either I'm evil or lit with it
Funkiest George Clinton, fruit punch locks, fresh twisted
Giovanni eagle trip, double dutch skippin'
Ride flow so intense, you need PornHub to fuck with it
So ever get my nose stuck, I smell God shittin'
Squat on that Farrakhan, Solange, Chimamanda, Tricia [Rose]
My minimum be common sense to a go-getter
Gold diggers dig my prose and pose for the old picture
Third inscription, Rosetta Stone, so go figure
Spend a lifetime tryin' to get free like Deneice Williams
Dead Prez, [?] bike ride in the breeze, chillin'
For my people, I go off bonita over Miss Jenkins
The counterfeit disappear soon as the cold hit 'em
Bomb the genesis I clone, time signature gold-tinted
Rosetta Tharpe fingerpick, harmonic note-bendin'
Train-bound for glory, folklore absolved the coke dealer
For saints sendin' singers off-key and on tender
Freddie Mercury retrograde, too real for great pretenders
For dream defenders, Sista Soulja, Winter's Colder
[?] we were young, dumb, innocent and loved once
Do you remember?
[Interlude]
Do I remember?
(Black, black, black fu—fut-t-t-t—)
(Black future)

[Verse 3]
Unh, uh, may I forever be a menace to my enemies
Pray the deaths be nothin' less than the final scene of Misery, uh
Last laugh terrorist, the broadcast, the chariot
Two sphinxes shroud offense, my right hand breedin' valerian
Keep my fist balled till one of you wanna touch my hair again
Born Jahmerican, yardcall for soft candidates
For Alex, Kizzy, Fiddler, Chicken George, Kunta the Gambian
For refuge sought that brought Nina Simone to Liberia
For Good Samaritans that wore two suits that bury them
The racketeer that stole years, shoulda, coulda, the terrier
Malformed, the black limbs limp, the posterior
For Erika, may your heart heal, we failed when you were here with us, uh
For those church shoes and wooden pews, the breeze in the vestibule
Jesus show up, show our Sunday best, he on schedule
Used to wonder, "Were we left behind? Did he forget us?"
Mama said, "Don't question the Lord, you open doors for the Devil, boo"
That chicken grease on deck, the old jawn to the left of you
Black as fatback salt pork, the seasoned vegetables
Cholesterol level a stress, believe gon' get the best of you
Precious is breath, neck poised, it's Clare Huxtable
For the trauma on my sleeve, those who live by memories
For chief-lords spoke in between tribal wars
Won lost, the spirit world called to intervene, guns drawn
The burned cross, the six degrees separated
Those torn, blood that pours
Tears that run 'cross the wound, the sore
The bruise, the blues chord
The muse in the dark, the #MeToo, that Susan on
For Tarana Burke, Rosa Parks, for Things That Fall Apart
Conflict of the South, there's space kept, a floor swept
A future for you right... now