Moon Over Glenora Songtext
von Gord Downie

Westwood T-Raww
Heavy chains hallucinate
Approachin′ me nigga pronounciate
I'm on 2 today, you 2 shots away
Broke shit ain′t safe, get you chased and chase
Make a left bang bang seen a enemy face
I put gold in the ceilin I'm master P
No infatuation with me and beef
Let the glock on the mouth thats ready for 3
Roses on concrete, obsolete
I don't play my games like telekenesis and See no head no evil this ain′t legal
Gotta adjust my hat, make room for ego
Feed my people gotta shoot out the rigo
Time a relapse fuck it thought I was dreamin′
Hit em by the fact thought I thought I was demon
Tryna follow me home gotta take the scenic
Hot as venus so i holla up in use the big bitch thats madief
Your opinion and your ideas gave a johnson johnson not much no more tears
Baptize still got sense, fuck a favourite rapper
Fuck a top ten
Number one on your shittin' list coz imma shit on you and thats real shit

Yeah Alright
I got talk some real shit on there
Yeah london vibes, last kings


Uh gansta nigga fly mafioso style
Came from a bees belly bedi back a bully down
Boast in the lord religion im making ploase now
Had to do this for my nigga trel figure royce now
Click clow joker′s mouth junior its the motherfuckin problem chow
Let him out fire cloud for betters body bounce
Shell shock shell shock boirs like a jail house
Let em run the game don't fuck up the aim
Try tell a bing tell a pump like a in hella tryna
Be a good father god father good fella
Read lotta gotta lotta weight on my plate
Carry can′t hold a grown man
Had you niggas too scary, Can't believe this shit
Tupelo more than tooth fairies
Talk like investigations illuminati ain′t it a shame baby, hah yeah its a shame don't fuck up my aim
baby 80's baby mouth fulla gold like a southern baby, reincarnated hell on urp what a angel′s face
Lip no ats I practice on the basis my believe
Ain′t what you seen a heard is deaf blindness
So honest don't judge in your honour
I just wanna sit back relax and get dollars
You know it

Uh Check

Born a 89 dope crack on close line
Gang signs, fuckers may score seem like
Call em bind dropouts it could just see and post
No vines i run shit, Get it on shoe line
100 dash for herdos you fall from a finish line
Marsh pits crucifix say my pride
Put that on life you lied to me now your soul lies
Dog shots what im up, get that bitch baptize
Botas in been pars its all color lines
Hidden colors wanna know the truth
Pick a datin′ time, audemars are most die
For that diamond shine, is this not after life
Coz i'm livin′ mine

Westwood London T-Raww Last Kings
Gold Album, Fan of a fan out now
Hah yeah