Lyrics:
This is the South Yorkshire Police
We've had complaints
Just grab your shit and leave
And no-one goes to gaol
But we are the West Yorkshire
From New York
Made by the less fortunate
To West Yorks
No-one knows where Yorkshire is
From New York
Still feel I was born for it
To West Yorks
No less
Drill flow
Chill, yo
Paid homage to both like a bill bro
Got to mix that Yorkshire, West
Grime and the drill, though
Throw like this when you sing
Go
do that
We don't take orders or take your crap
We don't do that
West Yorkshire is the place, and it's cold and it rains
But we know the terrain, it's
down police dudes say keep it peaceful
These run down streets is cruel and you people are lethal
Crowd shouting vitriolic rhythms that they sing to
This
and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a West End town
Call the police, there's a mad man around
Running down underground to a dive bar
In a West End
to kissing
Yo
Summertime summertime vibes
MC LD
Big shout out the West Yorkshire lot
Up north tings Bradford
You know how we do
Bradford go mad go divvy
Boys
Get a blunt, roll the weed, light it up nigga
Sippin' on Gin & Juice, fill up your cups nigga
The West Coast back crackin' like it's '94
So bitch get
and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a West End town
Call the police, there's a mad man around
Running down underground to a dive bar
In a West End
Tu gdzie szkieły robią pałe a my wkraczamy na ring
997 fuc* the police Acid King
Tu gdzie kur* ślą donosy a my mamy z tego zwałę
West Coast for life
side,
Of Yorkshire,
North side,
West side,
Topside,
10Side,
5Side,
Where live guys,
Get caught up in
Drugs and extortion,
Vibe Live,
I got killys,
and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a West End town
Call the police, there's a mad man around
Running down underground
To a dive bar in a West End
but active stoners. Fuck the police league, with a Viagra boner
All sides with the action and pack in, goners. Can't slip no slackin', living back
horizons
Dull as the pewter skies over North West Eleven
A solitary life
A life of small horizons
Dull as the governmental sky over North West Eleven
Kicking in chairs and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a West end town
Call the police there's a mad man around
Running down underground
Kicking in chairs and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a West end town
Call the police there's a mad man around
Running down underground
Kicking in chairs and knocking down tables
In a restaurant in a West End town
Call the police, there's a madman around
Running down underground
fluid nights
When the foxes and their dogs keep you up like on a night like
What's gwarnin'
On god
West Yorkshire, farming
That's P's and G's an army
the NEU, join the NEU.
I was raised in old West Yorkshire, West Yorkshire born and bred,
When I joined the union, they called me the Russian Red.
We are
Bradford, third largest city, Bradford, the more diverse one, Bradford, West Yorkshires second city, Bradford, nearer to Lancs.
Bradford x 12
Low Moor,
of which I shall speak
Almost nothing had happened for nearly a week
(And that's a long time for a Pol or a Peke)
The big police dog was away from his beat
I
Morphine shots, codeine drops
Girl turn this down 'fore the police knock
This a big ass crib I got totally lost
She said I heard your songs damn you
a chick from Humbolt
White girl, dreadlocks with the good smoke
Got caught, went to jail trying to sell dope
Police asked me if I knew her I said, "Hell
of you
It's a part of me
Hugs us like the wind inside a storm
That Yorkshire grit
Identity
Flowing through our blood forevermore
These streets we'd run
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