On Track - song lyrics
Proper Channels keeps it pumping like your heartbeat
All my solo sets seem like an art piece
You try your hardest then you bomb within the hour
Our auto-pilot sacrifice your life to higher powers
Don't take it personally, y'all don't deserve the worst of me
Seen me at a show, then you've already had the best of me
Eating anything as long as worms is in the recipe
Shitting where I'm sleeping, drinking mad aggressively
A theme is what we'll call it
Fact is I've detracted back to binge alcoholic
Staying hostile if emotion is the obstacle
All I wanna do is love intimately as possible
But DAMN y'all make it challenging
Never practice then act baffled when you up to bat and see the crowd traveling
Bathroom, street, bar
Grab a bite to eat or
Straight up leaving just to be wherever we are
See no hear no speak no shit
What we consume is what we are
In my own lane I'm located
Staying On Track like a streetcar
We the shit like Winnie the Pooh
See the crowd jump around like Tigger and Roo
Spit the truth in the mic and we give it to you
And everybody start looking like Eeyore
Y'all fly, we soar
Gonna blow like C4
Explode with the rhythm and give em a little vision of the mission we sing for, like
Hold up, wait a minute
Let me put a little bit of soul up in it
Got a whole lotta rhythm going round
Got a real type of thing going down, getting down
We want the funk, give it up or hit the exit
The sound is so eclectic, rock acoustic or electric
We get chill, we get hectic
Beats get killed and resurrected
Dialectical perspectives come together, get connected
Tune in to receive the message
Proper Channels ain't shit to mess with
Speak our minds through beats and rhymes
We redefine what's unexpected
That therapeutic music moving through the wire out the amplifier
Straight into my brain it takes me higher
Bumping a little something to get me through the day
Pops was a drummer, that's probably why I grew this way
Taught me lessons that I remember to this day
Recollecting vivid memories of what he used to say
Now I'm running out of room, tripping over records
Blurring the border between hoarder and collector
Give that extra effort, we're pushing progression
And getting sicker I can feel the congestion
Feels like, real life, real hype, clear sight
Proper Channels spreading like lice on field mice
Real live, living and breathing, giving, receiving, divvying even, existing with reason
I used to thread headphones up through my sweater sleeve
Tripped out when I heard that's what Geo was telling me
Skipped class, spit raps, wrote some elegies
Without a dope beat, I would have never felt complete
Without a dope beat, I would have never felt complete
Without a dope beat, I would have never felt complete
Without a dope beat, I would have never felt complete
Without a dope beat, I would have never felt complete
