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{{Template:Lyrics|Supreme|
Supreme talks about his baby's mother like a whore

Sweet 16 she is, with future uncertain, love incomplete

Soapy days for Jr. and she

At 3, Supreme comes to give his boy a pat and a pound

Put his hoodie on the couch, his Timberlands up on the chair

So his bitch can bring him a beer

"So, this is the Nuclear family?"

Mommy, baby, and Daddy makes a mess of his baby's mother's hair

As they fuck 'til her mother comes in from work

She's playing house, he's playing man

And Jr. is the only one who accepts he's just a child

Wild nights she had with a swish of her stuff

Knocked up to a waddle, a baby carriage bustle and still gets her play

But her dream is true romance, well sorta, everyday from 3 to 6

Supreme leaves out before Mommy comes kick his lazy narrow behind back onto the street

He's not a corner boy

The bodega in the 40's is midblock where bullets flock

No names engraved and he may be next

Shielded by the patron saint of the brothers

Being there is all there is

Living lovely without turning the corner

Reaching for a swig brings sweat to his brow and shit to his mouth

Dispelling knowledge on the stuffs

The pleasing things the baby's mother do

Dousing the sidewalk with wretch of a boyman

Breaking Friday night to seek manhood in a paper bag

Says, "Fatherhood is real cool and the kid looks like me

So she better not let nothing happen to him or I’ma kill the bitch"

Sudden twitch to the roll of the wheel

Trained steel stained blue puts punk on the wall

For some trumped up call from precinct 101


Monday at 3, the baby's mother waits

Jr. in her arms, patiently at the door

Doesn't know what she misses

Locked into the routine, a project queen

Supreme rode off into the sunset with a 3 to 6 all his own

It took a week for her to find out, a minute to promise devotion

Her life on hold as Supreme calls checking on his boy 

And the baby's mother

Life on the outside ain't even worth it

Shit. Who screwed whom?

There’s not enough room in the pen for them both to stay

Locked into their little worlds they will

Leather gear, X skullie, Size 2 Docs

Man, Jr.’s the fliest shit in nursery care

Paid for by W.I.C., so who's getting dicked? 

Who reigns supreme?
|Samantha Coerbell|℗ 2000 Mute Records Limited}}

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[[Category:Song]]
[[Category:Recoil songs]]
[[Category:Liquid songs]]
[[Category:Songs produced by Alan Wilder]]
[[Category:Never played live]]