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 He's 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 Mama's disease Went back to a flat, with no gas, no cash

Rapped in a duvet full of cigarette ash

Mama can't 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