Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song West London, artist - RevealDate of issue: 21.10.2013
Song language: English
West London |
| West London post code, E Road my local/ |
| Stone cold, blow ‘Dro on road, fuck Po-Po/ |
| Ain’t nothing they can tell us in our zones bro/ |
| ‘Cos from the paint on the pavements/ |
| To estate railings we own road/ |
| Fuck the Metropolitan police/ |
| Fuck every single undercover and every officer on the beat/ |
| Always watch me when I’m bopping on the street/ |
| But the streets are our property/ |
| So we tell the feds that THEY lack authority/ |
| It’s not just me fam, my whole zones the same/ |
| From Lisson Green to E Road/ |
| We know the game/ |
| Like we wrote it/ |
| Street author, Poisonous Poet/ |
| Go against the West and end up in the canal where the boats is/ |
| I really ain’t trying to boast or promote this/ |
| ‘But I spit reality, so it’s best that you know that this ain’t just show biz/ |
| West London full of hood dwellers/ |
| Middle-East mafia, White gangsters and Black Goodfellas/ |
| Me, I’m Gully and Irani/ |
| But I’m having talks with next man to expand to a Gully Army/ |
| And I ain’t quitting ‘til the ends say/ |
| Revs held it up for West, like the bridge under the Westway/ |
| Yeah, it’s just a West London street thing/ |
| Yeah, it’s a Gully and Irani thing/ |
| Yeah, these streets keep me breathing/ |
| West London’s where I’m from/ |
| And I’m not leaving |
| So what’s the moral of the story/ |
| Heard you sent bredders to bottle and bore me/ |
| But I survived with nothing more than four scuffed knuckles and torn jeans/ |
| Ready for war? |
| You’re not ready for war G/ |
| Trust me, Iprobably been through more Fuckery than you when I was Fourteen/ |
| Certain bredders can;t hack it when there’s static on their radar/ |
| Me I don’t panic, I just remain calm/ |
| Keep my eyes open, I know exactly where the snakes are/ |
| Keep my mind focused, I know exactly who the fakes are/ |
| Certain man don’t know how deep it is/ |
| And roll with no allegiances/ |
| But I can smell the beef as if the meat was fresh/ |
| I know exactly where I stand and exactly who my peoples is/ |
| Airtight like shrink wrapped plastic, thats how we keep the shit/ |
| Now peep the shit, your click lack leadership/ |
| A bunch of pricks talking that click clack heater shit/ |
| ‘Til they seen what them big bad heaters did/ |
| Shit fam, you changed your feelings quick, recognize who you dealing with/ |
| Gully army is something different/ |
| We represent the third world living in Britain/ |
| Not trying to fit in/ |
| We Irani, Iraqi, Maghrebi, Messri and Lobnany/ |
| Felestiny, Somali, Nigerian, Kurdistani/ |
| Eritrean, Albani, Bengali and Pakistani/ |
| I plot with a couple Cockneys and spar with a couple Yardies/ |
| We bringing a hundred armed teens/ |
| We bringing a Gully Army/ |