"Pipe an’ Smoke"

Yeah... Bagpipe cry in the mist, Cold steel, cold street… aye. From the hills to the block, we don’t sleep. Aye, turn up the pipes, bruh... Glasgae tae the world, ye ken? Drill wi’ tartan blood. In ma scheme, nae dream, jist grind an’ pain, Cold streets, nae heat, we fight the rain, Talk slick? Get clapped, nae time tae explain, We move low-key, like ghost in the lane. Glesga boy, but the heart pure ice, Trap still jumpin’, we roll them dice, See the blue lights flash?—aye, cut right, Nae snitch in ma team, that’s real life. I’m oot late, hoodie up, bagpipe hummin’, Ops in the mist, but we keep on drummin’, Brodie said “move,” so we keep on runnin’, Drill in ma blood, but the clan still comin’. Pipe an’ smoke, hear the sound o’ the street, Cornemuse cryin’ where the lost souls meet, We dinnae bow down, we stay on beat, Scot till I die, aye, feel that heat. Pipe an’ smoke, bag on ma back, Hood up high, we never lack, From the highlands doon tae flats o’ the block, We still march strong when the pipes get loud. Talk tough, ye a dafty, ye ken? Ma lads no’ sweet, we nae pretend, Council flat views, aye, the same old end, Life on edge, nae rules tae bend. Ma granny prayed, but the devil stay near, Whisky tears, pour one for the peer, Skrrt in the Ford, nae time tae steer, Ops want smoke, but we bring that fear. Tartan soul, heart made o’ steel, Nae London talk, we keep it real, Scot drill wave?—aye, that’s the deal, Pipes play loud when we seal that feel. Pipe an’ smoke, hear the sound o’ the street, Cornemuse cryin’ where the lost souls meet, We dinnae bow down, we stay on beat, Scot till I die, aye, feel that heat. Pipe an’ smoke, bag on ma back, Hood up high, we never lack, From the highlands doon tae flats o’ the block, We still march strong when the pipes get loud. From Glesga tae Dundee, the pipes still cry, We bleed red mist, but we still fly high, Aye, they laugh, but they never try, Drill wi’ pride, that’s the Scottish sky.