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/

Chorus:
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
( x 2 )

Verse 2:
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/