Drinking With My Headphones On

[Hook:]

The hands go up, but they always come down

That's the sad truth when you're living for the crowd

The show's been over, but you still wanna bow

You really should hang it up but you're just too proud

The beat's too low, and the vocal's too loud

Even in the booth you've been havin' little doubts

You put your headphones on and drink 'till you pass out

Praying for a drought help you shake your dark cloud

[Bridge:]

I've not even been around the block

Not even once but I look out the door

The corner's right there, the coast is clear

My eyes are open but I'm hating the chore

No reason to stop now there's nothing but pop clowns

So put your money down put your neck on the table

You feeling so hot now, you're calling the shots now

Switch things up, you gotta shake that label

Call it what you want, call it what you gotta

It's a struggle in the booth to make the truth sound hotter

Make you feel proper make you feel just right

And it's some insecurities just to help you sleep at night

So fall back if you don't feel me. I don't even feel me!

Sometimes I think that I do this shit to try and heal me

Maybe be appealing maybe grow a fan base

But honestly I only make this music for my own sake

You want my own take? Here's my two cents

I don't need your recognition just a record with depth

An intense one that just lets me just vent

One that knows when I'm happy or I wanna get bent

And guess what homeboy? that's all I ever need

Introspection over beats and a party for the fiend

A city full of a songs and a mic for me to speak into

If music speaks to you please take heed:

Think about it, write it down, find someone you can teach it to

I'm not preachin' dude, I'm just trying to cleanse

A lyrical colonic, shake the demons in my head

Sometimes you've gotta purge yourself to make it out of bed

[Hook:]

The hands go up, but they always come down

That's the sad truth when you're living for the crowd

The show's been over, but you still wanna bow

You really should hang it up but you're just too proud

The beat's too low, and the vocal's too loud

Even in the booth you've been havin' little doubts

You put headphones on and drink 'till you pass out

Praying for a drought help you shake your dark cloud

Inspiration don't come cheap these days

So I go the opposite direction tryin' to keep this faith

No religion but hip hop has given the opportunity

To put a hundred percent into something that is true to me

And Usually my muses show up so I start sippin'

Allow me to gas myself so I stop trippin

And overthinking and analyzing everything I do

So I can find out what life looks easier for you

How the hell did I develop all of this social anxiety

And fuck a zoloft! I roll off and get high

With these bottles and beers, trying to forget those years

I don't need a script doctor, but let's just say cheers

And tip that, say sip sip sippin' on the jazzers

And when your people join you, then you know it's going to be magic

But when you're on a vision quest, they say that it's a hazard

But trust me, I would never let it turn to something tragic

There's been to many kids lost in my home town

Must be something in the water shed, 'cuz I know now

Suicidal teens ain't born, they're bred

So give them something to hope for instead of pullin' the thread

Unravellin' all of their dreams at the seams

I believe in doing for self, but it's nice having a team

That's why I self medicate just to help meditate

Introspection is arrestin' when you can't catch a break

[Hook:]

The hands go up, but they always come down

That's the sad truth when you're living for the crowd

The show's been over, but you still wanna bow

You really should hang it up but you're just too proud

The beat's too low, and the vocal's too loud

Even in the booth you've been havin' little doubts

You put headphones on and drink 'till you pass out

Praying for a drought help you shake your dark cloud

The 16s we rip 'em, the pen's scribbles explicit

Mic booth is a closet until the studio's finished

Gaurenteed that when we get legit I'm going to miss it

But until then we circle the rag and stay on the mission

A hotbed of ideas, our pens are best friends

I've driven through carpal tunnel, that's hell but the road ends

We've blazing our own path, we work as our own staff

No paychecks get cut, but fuck we'll get past

I stay sipping the bourbon and even though it's a weakness

I need it to find the freedom to make real what I keep dreamin

I mean it, I promise I can surely keep my seams sewn up

As long as I only have to pretend to be a grown up

These headphones are worn, the paint's starting to fade

High's starting to clip, lows starting to wane

But no need to worry, the musics gonna get made

And even when we pass out, wake up to a new day like

bwwwooaaaahhh...