The Prophecy (Radio Edit)

[Verse: Roc Marciano]
Collect my thoughts
My mind moves at warp speed, I often talk
To myself about greed, why I smoke so much weed
And indeed I love my freedom like my unborn seed
Normally out of your league, I bond like Sean Connery
Honor me with knowledge, pure homage, I'm astonishing
Future promising, harnessing notes
Composer I be, catching the holy ghost
Over and over until you start sobering up
Shine solar, spread Ebola cross tracks
Computer viruses eating the wax
Send a fax to you verbally, snap your whole vertebrae
My word play is exquisite, electrici-ty
I be on the Pacific side of water, my world order to joust
Sit and build on that for hours
I'm broader than Broadway in broad daylight
While emcees bite the parquet my star is ajar
Have a seat and parlay, God, word to father Fard
I am no fraud, my origin sharp as a sword
Razorbacks from here to Arkansas
Hardcore tracks, how could you ask for more? from Suffolk to Nassau
This is the last straw, your glass jaw, shatters
I move matter for sure 'cross the shores of brain waves
Mayonnaise spread across the bread like Boar's Head
Purveyors of daylight, bathing in my haven
I force fed my bredrin like brave men
Breath in isometric conditioning keep me nice
Now listen I'm the beneficent, travel the whole damn distance
For instance my science connects to form a sentence
Paragraphs I craft like graphite
My son, keep your head up like a giraffe, shit is getting drastic
I'm a classic like the '67 Chevy yet incredibly new
You know my pedigree's better than medicine
My measurements, five foot seven and a half
One mass of every element, positive gas
My knowledge is everlasting, read while I'm fasting
The feats that I achieve will make a rapper retire
Like Zachariah, my gun fire, sundry a raisin
Blazing, the man, the Messiah, the fans admire
My attire, rhyme supplier, some say sire
My dialect's high tech, reliable
Dressed in flesh, I'm just fresh
Other rappers test vile and may God bless the child
Cause I go the extra mile
My style flex across the US
Bringing forth the offerings of musical offspring
Holocaust, my forces combine, I write a rhyme
The planets form one line, all nine are mine (what?)
Check it (yeah)
Who are you?
(I didn't know, son, I didn't know, what, yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah, yeah what?)
Cause I go the extra mile
(You son, who are you? What, the black prophet)

[Verse 2: Ox]
Ayo Roc I hear you talking
But who listens?
The prison's painted black with white lines son
So I write rhymes and when the time's right I recite
A plethora, check the messenger type with foggy nights
And soggy Nikes, you're probably right yo
And as a hobby, beast mugabi took flight
Ignite grasslands, imagine if the frail and famine strike
Picket and march like dykes, I can dig it
Get your digits right
It's quite normal and tonight dress formal
Because the invitation's cordial, it's the disorderly
I've grown to be more than glory
My pop was on cocaine, my mom was on her own
Grown slowly like Rogaine, the hope remains purely but
Surely I hold pain with more soul than Trane
He's not Worthy like James
He got lifted like cranes, he sniffed it
His brain shifted and he blames God's gift and explains
To design these rhymes hard like times and it's strange
Still my love for this game it feels strained like ligaments
Predicaments change, the reign's infinite
I am what I am by the grace of God
Sons and daughters, the broken bridges over troubled waters
When the clock strikes midnight you'll be rocking pinstripes
Looking for insight, the pressure fits in tight
So treasure these moments, in the dim lights
Opponents far from homeless, yes the man's super, the Lane Lois
Stack hoes like cold cuts yo, you know my focus
Runs wild like jokers, drinks and coasters
Life size posters of Air Man, the chairman
Of the quotas keep you moving like boulders
But rovers don't grow on trees
The God's shoulders, have
Rollers move copasetic so let it be kinetic
Like energy and spread it
It better be beheaded
Come feathered like birdbrain
The word game severed
My birth name, Super-Boy
The T-A-P planet
The eagle has landed
On top the El Dorados
My pockets is avocado
Don't follow, be a leader
I swallow the medicine
I sense the veteran is hollow
But I disconcern yo
They don't return when they borrow
Tonight the Apollo, but tomorrow
It'll be the prophet
(yeah, yeah, yeah, who are you?
The black prophet, like (here we go Hempstead, Long Island)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, (gettin' busy like that, to the max)
And who are you?)