I don’t wanna be a child of the back streets
Dealing on my i-phone, living in the death-zone
Snub-nose thirty-eight sticking out my Levi jeans
Waiting for some punk-kid to come along and steal my dreams
Oh no, Child of the Streets
Pimped-up Cadillac heading up a dirt-track
Seeking out the preacher with the snake-skin sneakers
Rapping with the bad boys acting like he’s tough and mean
Smoking on a cigarette looking like a drag-show queen
Child of the Streets
Love-struck Juliet waiting at the laundrette
Making like a search-drone looking for the boy’s home
Talking in the café feeling like a cheap-skate sting
Romeo on guitar playing with a broken string
Child of the Streets