Sos All Day Lyrics - Werd (s.o.s)

[Werd] 

Check, S.O.S. Yes (Auld Reekie) 

In Auld Reekie, Edinburgh, I built up my repertoire 

Wrecking hard beats with my speech and etcetera 

Going over net I impress like I'm Federer 

Cheeky little tica I 'kilt' like the dressing (ah) 

Dead emcees through lead I breath 

I could ghost-write for ghosts put them under my sheets 

Of written lyrics see my spirits as they start to deplete 

As the whiskeys almost finished while I write to this beat 

Speak, If I'm given half the chance 

If I have to put my chips in and call it red or black 

It'll probably hit the zero but I fight over that 

You see I always seem to win and I don't even answer back 

In the long run, it's a marathon of tracks 

Take a step at a time if you cant be divine, just relax 

And go and find you're own path 

This Scottish rap, I'm sorry mate I own that 

(S.O.S) It's the Sons of Scotland 

Shout 'S.O.S' when I'm done talking 

(S.O.S) We got it on lock ken 

So shout 'S.O.S' mate doing it for Scotland [x2] 

An Auld Reekie rapper killing all you're geeky patter 

We can a cheeky little pagger rather scrap the drama 

I'm a walking target for these little Swagger-Jagga 

Waka-flame type bastards known the name right rappers (S.O.S) 

We the best on the map mate 

Wiping our feet on you're welcome like a mat take 

One step back you jokes with a catchphrase 

Knock knock, who's there? not me, my name rings a bell 

(bring bring) Cause you're boy speaks crack 

But boy with a 'H' and in Scotland it's smack 

Stay intact or attack you get pinned to the wall 

Like a tack picture that, get a bat have a ball 

With my whole team, award winning no smoke-screen 

Less its the dope smoke roached with my home green 

Has-been's some rappers they got burnt out 

Flicked like my joint's so class 'A' with no come-down 

(S.O.S) It's the Sons of Scotland 

Shout 'S.O.S' when I'm done talking 

(S.O.S) We got it on lock ken 

So shout 'S.O.S' mate doing it for Scotland [x2] 

I'm Edinburgh city's witty gritty sick cunt you getting sick eh 

Little lippy for the silly little kiddies 

And their pretty little spits with mates acting like groupies 

Hip-hop aint for you get the fuck back to Uni 

With you're bag-pack rap all you're chat like that 

It got me thinking then inking out bad man track 

Happy slap cats whack via sound of the jack 

You lack facts, track back, you ever been that 

Much of anything, anyway, everyday am better wae 

Flipping on melody so heavily am telling ye 

Remember me, I'm a fucking legend in the scene 

If you disagree, you sleeping, you aint keeping with the team 

S.O.S. we the best, tell the rest, just to rest 

We just write, you get left, we the set to inspect 

See we set for success, set trends and invest 

In the art from the heart, no impressed with the next 

(S.O.S) It's the Sons of Scotland 

Shout 'S.O.S' when I'm done talking 

(S.O.S) We got it on lock ken 

So shout 'S.O.S' mate doing it for Scotland [x2]