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Blud, you ever met Sandra?
Light skin' ting, marga
Got four babies by three fathers
She thought each one was the one, 'till they up and run
Hit the road and scarpered
Each one don't amount to jack
She's in her council flat, thinking those little bastards
So heartless, left her all alone four kids at home to go dark 'ting
But Sandra's a hustler
Thinking, "I ain't no buster
I'ma get paid, get made however
Them city girls I see on street ain't no better
I'm a use what my Mum gave me"
Don't pet star, I'ma get dark
So she'd get cart and push her legs 'part
Let the mans bore through for true, no lesser
She figured she was always getting banged by mans
So she might as well get a little money in her hands
She couldn't get a job, had no time but she put it in her gob the whole time!
The sket of the manner
You can hear the babies crying when you bang her
Belly of the beast, no glamour, don't clam her
Just make sure you strap up with a rubber when you bang her
I heard Sandra's youngest turned two now, her oldest turned sixteen and moved out
Her Mum's bucking shines to the youtes and you wonder why the youtes don't wanna see you now?
But Sandra's still down on her knees
She can make a man cum with the greatest of ease
But what about her K.I.D? That's life in the belly of the beast
OK, so I met this bred' called Dave
Dave hung around the Weatherspoons all day
Playing fruit machines, seeing who he'd see
All the old drunks and chavs, they was his mates
He spent half the night rolling up notes
Putting all that white powder up his nose
And before you could see he was out of control
He was out in the cold when he ran out of the coke
Then one day he woke up bleeding
Out his nostrils but he was still fiending, for a next hit
So he reached his stash in his bag, he had left from the last evening
That's when the drugs don't work
All there doing now is just making it worse
On the end, he was sniffing up dust on some hype-hype flex 'stead of going to work
But that's life in the belly of the beast, where many souls perish in the feast
Six feet deep, go sleep and don't wake up
With shit stained pants and no makeup
Sixteen years young, her name was Josephine
Eyes wide shut, skin like aubergine
Found by her marge, too late to resuscitate her
On Christmas eve man, she could have chose another day
Poor Josie, too young to die but old enough to O.D
There's no peace, when there's no G.O.D
Die lonely, slowly
Now Josie's gonna get blessed by the priest
When they're burying her body underneath
J.O.S.I.E that's written on the wreath
Life in the belly of the beast
Peace, peace
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