Lyrics Black Future - Akua Naru

Black Future

For gods and mortal men
Women, children, niggas, 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 pickin' at your number nine, pickin' cotton off the find
Because the fro flat on the one side
Learn to laugh so you don’t cry, a spell cast with closed eyes
When the math never add up, a dollar surely hard to come by
Ugh, my goodness, ugh
For the billy bad-ass brother, outcast, the tough guy
For color girls when they’re able to know at sunshine
The chip on your shoulder for dues and tongue-tied
For broke, ailin', hopeless, magnum opus, stunning
For those the skin black, it’s pointed late in the night sky
A lunar eclipse, a grimace, glimpse the world shift, a sunrise
An ancient future rich between hips, thighs
Take this dandelion, go make a wish for the old pie
Fuck the slice shit, the piece of cake, pecan praline spikes
Casket, 99s, my cousin got life for three strikes
Since twelve been in the system, sixteen bars of heat like
That twenty-one is gon' make me run like kids before the streetlight
Colt .45, call me baby girl, try to maintain, find peace, right?
Man’s world, any place for a nigga like me, it seems like
We’ll freeze like, it’s a state of mind, not a state of mine, for me and like
Hello?
Junior?
Junior?
(Black fu—)
Junior?
H-hello?
(Fu-fu-fu-fu, bl-bl-bla-black fut—)
(Black future)
Hello?
Uh, 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 gods shittin'
Squat on that Farrakhan, Solange, Chimamanda, Tricia
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 Denise Williams
Dead pressed, bike ride in the breeze, chillin'
For my people, I go off Benita over Miss Jenkins
The counterfeit disappear soon as the cold hit 'em
Bomb the geniuses I clone, time signature goal-tendin'
Rosetta Tharpe finger pick, harmonic note bendin'
Train bound for glory, folklore absolved the coke dealer
For saints sendin' singers off key and on Tinder
Freddie Mercury retrograde, too real for great pretenders
For dream defenders, sister soldier, winters colder
we were young, dumb, innocent and loved once
Do you remember?
Do I remember?
(Black, black, black fu—fut-t-t-t—)
(Black future)
Uh, uh, may I forever be a menace to my enemies
Pray the death be nothin' less than the final scene of Misery, uh
Last laugh terrorist, the broadcast, the chariot
Two sphinxes, my right hand breedin' valerian
Keep my fist balled till one of you wanna touch my hair again
American, yard call for soft candidates
For Alex, Kizzy, Fiddler, Chicken George, Kunta the Gambian
For refuse sought that brought Nina Simone to Liberia
For Good Samaritans that to bury them
The racketeer that stole years, shoulda, coulda, the terrier
Malformed, the black limbs limp, the posterior
Forever could make your heart here, we feel 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 jaunt to the left of you
Black as fat back salt pork, the seasoned vegetables
Cholesterol level a stress, believe gon' get the best of you
Precious is breath, neck poised, it’s clear, Huxtable
For the trauma on my sleeve, those haunted by memories
For chief, lords, folk in between, tribal wars
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 Me Too, that
For Tirana Burkes, Rosa Parks, for things that fall apart
Conflict of the, there’s a space kept, a floor swept
A future for you right now