Oko (Yoruba God Of Farming, Hunting, And The Earth)

The wise man unto eyes of this our old world, secretory organs diluted with trickery poison from the swine like man  
Raise unto the true self for who you are  
We stood by to see the salvation as broken chains followed your North Star  
We hear the cries unto the cosmic it is our realm  
Stand in arms and we will be there to defeat the galactic man’s weapons to protect the bestiality of the Jinn’s  
The skin of your coat of honor is far superior for the heart who believes  
We are the war, books have omitted, now we wake you up for you to conceive  
Mother Earth she is an enigma, the remedy, the salve to your skin  
The Sun casted on your aura to rid western medicines’ toxin  
In battles, praise the Aloe Vera plant  
The soothing healing emollient ordained by ancestral chants    
The elements of your resources, we are there  
From us to you to the begotten race, we have counted the strands of your hair  
The assurance to balance the world when evil saints plot to destroy from circle of their wicked lair  
 
I, Oko, the Yoruba God of farming, hunting, and the earth, heed my whispers from the stratosphere  
Yahshua called me and only me to kneel at his foot, the burning bush, minds should have no fear  
The right hand to bless over child, woman, and man, the left hand for he who tempers the lands  
Set aside the Holy Trinity, only hatred will envy grandeur sanctified temples, as to why, you will come to understand  
It is where your powers of divinity reside  
The temple of your soul, with your heart by the skies given to the wraith of the ocean’s tides