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• For The Babies • | by Damian Marley
This is real This is real

Now I see them giving the woman abortion to kill another baby, miscarriage and misfortune and premature crack baby
Strength of Rastafari I’m hoping someday maybe, they don’t obey their parents maybe they will obey me
Future for the babies, hopes for the babies, tomorrow for the babies, no sorrow for the babies
Babies having babies, raising our babies, all of these young ladies give them thanks and praises
How long can she take it? Dreams are full of maybes Will she ever make it? Hustles on a daily In the club a shake it
Strip down ‘til she naked, don’t ever mistake it, much too real to fake it, need it then she’ll take it
She’ll do it for the babies, a mother’s love is sacred, now you don’t ever fail me

A woman needs caring, sharing, love all the time (no don’t you ever fail me)
A child needs loving, caring…

Is there no other option than adoption for you babies, you’re raffling and jacketing and auctioning your babies
Strength of Rastafari I’m hoping someday maybe, they don’t obey their parents maybe they will obey me
Cowards play the game thing, Fathers do the brave thing, And that’s participating, He keeps on concentrating
There is no debating, No running away thing, A new life is awakening, From his ejaculating,
It’s in the oven baking
Takes two for the making, He’s right there through the cravings, And early morning waking,
School and educating
Sports and recreating, Karate and ballet thing, Teenager of today thing, Fathers still relating, Still communicating
And they’ll always embrace him, Cause they cannot replace him

A woman needs caring, sharing, love all the time (no don’t you ever fail me)
A child needs loving, caring…

And always do your best to keep a promise to your babies, And if you can’t be good at least be honest to your babies
The strength of Rastafari I’m hoping someday maybe, They don’t obey their parents maybe they will obey me
History of the babies, Beginning of the ages, You’re flipping through the pages, And up and through the 80’s
Some are gang related, Drug affiliated, Some intoxicated, Headed for the snake pit, And Papa’s locked in cages
And Mama’s lacking wages, And this is what they’re faced with, Upon a daily basis, Bleaching out dem faces
Running from dem races, Shooting up dem places, Killing other babies, As bitter as the taste is
And words cannot explain it, Just walk the narrow pavement, And speak of love not hatred.
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