My baby was born in a bed
With white sheets, machines and heat
Traveled home in a car to a three room nest, eats and sleeps
Laminate flooring to crawl on, TV,
Talks, starts to walk, amongst love and security.
Goes to school, learns to read and write
Probably follows a team with his friends
And gets to ride the train,
Fall in love, probably fly on a plane
Get to work all week and spend what he earns
On the high street
Hes got doctors, nurses, fireman, churches,
Kindergarten, wedding bells and jet black hearses
Passport, bankcard, maybe his own yard
Locks and alarms, trinkets and charms,
Maybe a baby in his arms
My baby was born on his knees
One of poverty s offspring
Came into the world coughing,
Already full of mothers disease
Went back to a flat, with no gas, no cash,
Rapped in a duvet full of cigarette ash,
Mama cant get no sleep,
Baby never quite get enough to eat.
Goes to school, learns to steal and fight,
Probably form a team with his friends,
Go steam those trains
Fall in love and never trust nobody again
Gets to work all week standing on the high street for Joe, Hustling blow, hustling blow.
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