Poverty in the Streetz

Yo, I get ma thang in the car; get set to cruise along with the player tuned to Wu-Tang Clan,
Press ma foot on the accelerator, to speed-up the life away from ma dreamz that just shattered,
Pacin' at 120 kilometers per hour, I slow down on seein' some kids fight for a piece of tatter,
Then, I see a family of four, sitting in a row, tryin' to hide themselves from the devilish snow, yeah; a sad show,
Father, mother, son & a daughter in their source of shelter, a hut by the gutter,
Starin' at each other, with their tears slidin' down the cheeks, as the cry-starter,
Look up to the sky to find God, hope that they can fly away to sign off from this uncaring world which hates an extra fish in its pond,
Imagined myself in that situation, a chill passes thru ma body like a current-fluctuation,
Then I thank God for what he gave me, stood always by the side of me, churned out the thangz as those would be, and gave me the flow as magical as that of Talib Kweli,
I saw just one family, but there would be millions under this fiercest insanity called poverty,
I don't understand God's partiality, makes someone rich, someone poor, someone prudent, the other one, a dumb fool, turns someone bad and ofcourse, the other one good,
But I leave on him the rest, the best of the best to judge, I just pray to him that everyone gets their own fetch,
Then, I get to ma world, with the ignition of ma car's engine, but as I go thru the city's old roadz, I still see the faces of the people freeze with cold,
Yeah, the same story as it was told.