Storm clouds rolling in
And I can fel the wind
Soon it's gonna rain,
But the streets will still be dirty
Even though I pushed that broom at about 8:30
It hurts me when I hear 
About the babies dying
Caught up in the struggle 
And the fight for surviving
But it's good to be alive
In spite of situations
The alternative is a thing you're not escaping
This cat was like, Jason, 
That's just a bunch of talk
His gun rubs a mark in his hip when he walks
Chalk in the hands of a teacher 
Helps you learn
But chalk in the hands of a beast 
Makes me concerned
Tracing bodies like a skater skates an "8"
I look to the sky,
Will the clouds ever break?
The streets are deserted
That sister's looking hurted
I used to know that brother,
But now he's perverted
No matter how it's worded, 
Listen for the truth
I met Alex Haley, 
Who wrote the book, Roots,
A year and a day to the day that he died
I also met Mr. Farmer,
With a patch on his eye
As a young guy,
In front of them I kicked some poems
The elders sat around,
New jack had to show them
Because I know I owe them 
A debt I have to pay
But damn, man
The sky still looks kind of grey
Yes, I did say 
I wish that rain drops would fall
Do I still feel the same?
Maybe yes,
Or not at all
But now I can't call it,
As my son calls my name
There's a break in the clouds,
But it's still gonna rain...