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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