So?

So what,
that your shirts are pressed
Or your lifes a mess
Cuz we all the same people
in the end, i guess.
We start from nothing
we go back to nothing.
why am I here or who am I?
sometimes it leaves me guessin.
maybe a blessin in disguise
but through my own eyes
I cannot realize
how many people talking whack
whether you be white
or you be black
whether your rich
or you just poor
when the police are at your door.
whether you can provide food
for your family
from your gorcery store.