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Raw Routes

by Height Keech

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credits

released September 2, 2019

Written and Produced by Height Keech

Mixed at Lineup Room by Brandon Lackey

Gang Way - Produced by ialive / Height
Ambience on 3 - PT Burnem
Drum Programming on 9 + 12 - ialive
Guitars on 2, 4 + 9 - Travis Allen
Synths and Ambience on 4 - ialive
Backup Vocals on 10 - Ashley Alexander + Mister
Backup Vocals on 11 - Emily Slaughter, Mister + ialive
Additional Tracking by Eddie Logix

Mastered by Carl Saff

Art by ialive

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Track Name: On A Starlit Grind
When I’m out and a band goes in
I hope they came with a plan to win
I hope they don’t try to be too coy
they gotta go all out to motivate the boy
I need a beat that’ll break the chain
and sweep feet off the known terrain
I want to jump into the sun
you gotta do something that cannot be done

I’m starving in my mind
On a starlit grind

When these MC’s rock the spot
I hope it’s not just off the knot
I hope they got the presentation down
Hope they don’t try to wing it, and smack the ground
I hope mans want to bring that twist
to hit fans like a swinging fist
I hope they got a surprise in store
I hope they thought up stuff I never thought before

I’m starving in my mind
On a starlit grind

We can’t dream until the room gets set
So don’t blast off with no sound just yet
Somebody’s gotta tell these rubes
Turn off the TV’s and florescent tubes
Don’t say the things that you think I’d like
Put us in your sites and ignite the strike
Say it simple and keep it stark
Show us what goes on in the deepest dark

I’m starving in my mind
On a starlit grind
Track Name: If Hitler Won The War, There Would Be No Rock & Roll
If Hitler won the war, there would be no rock and roll
No MC’s on the mic, out talking bold
No art spray painted on the walls
That wasn’t up to protocols
If Hitler won, he would put it all on hold

No Rock & Roll

Them German boys that made that krautrock sound
Hitler would never let them get that off the ground
No robot pop, no motorik
No popul voh, Kosmische Musik
If Hitler won, he’d have to shut that down

No Rock & Roll

Them goose-steppers of old are marching back
They traded brown shirts for that yellow and that black
But there can be no compromise
If we’d appeased those kind of guys
Our world would just be ashes, front to back

No Rock & Roll
Track Name: Desert Racers
Out at the factory, where the soft wheel spins fast
Up and out early now, clocking out last
Old times cold kicking up dust on that post
long gone like a tornado spun out to that coast
got a head full of dead wires, a box of dead fruits
Big doom that drives guys to stomp dreams with their boots
But the mind’s on that mission, and the hunger won’t quell
And we pray to that night, to get free from this spell

Desert Racers
In the daylight locked down
Desert Racers
In the deadest of towns
Desert Racers
Keep your souls out of sight
Until the ghosts from that old world can rise by the night

Drive through the county in the night in these rains
Moving road flares and road cones in these lanes
Gotta sweat for these coins, until the moon's burning black
Got the key to that highway in the wilds out back
Desert scape in my memory, coming in like a flood
Desert took all my money, desert drained all my blood
But I’m headed back west, heard a new siren sing
If we die in those sands, we’ll come back as kings

Desert Racers
In the daylight locked down
Desert Racers
In the deadest of towns
Desert Racers
Keep your souls out of sight
Until the ghosts from that old world can rise by the night
Track Name: Walking ft. Illingsworth + Mister
{Height}
Walk through them snows
Zoom through those towns
The lamplight it glows
Camped out on these grounds
Let’s blast out these sounds
Go nuts on these bills
Let’s cut through these pathways
And stomp through these hills
Now Jesus was a freak
Said blessed are the meek
Came back out to black out
Let’s push past the peak
Sit down, let me speak
Leave herbs in these hails
Let’s walk down these highways
With raps wrapped in bales

{Illingsworth}
This life is roller-coasting
full of locomotion, overdosing
I’d rather be row-boating in the open ocean
Suffering from liquor sweats
rupturing my liver, whilst
sculpturing a cup with chisel
numbering a finished set
Walk with weasley varmints in the eastern market
Each team link reeks of garbage
the leader’s whoever blinks the hardest
Or whoever can streak the farthest
while outrunning police departments
We can walk in peace or unleash the marmot

{Mister}
Portrait of a tumbleweed
Picture me rolling
A certain something about neil young, rust and sleep
Is keeping me going
The blood is pumping, applying heat to the frozen
And dropkicking any impeding the motion
Loose cannon
Flyin' Brian, find me floating
Over all these crumb bums, dum dums and lushes
A marathon, man
i don’t see the need for rushing, I’m walking
Track Name: That's A Wrap For Radio Shack
Back in the days, when hip-hop was new
Me and my pals thought rhyming was the thing to do
Nobody had the know-how, in my neck of the woods
We went to Radio Shack, to get the cheapest of goods
You could make a four-track out of plugs and cords
Your Dad’s tape deck and some mickey mouse keyboards
Quarter-inch to RCA, RCA to quarter-inch
It wasn’t quad studios, but it could work in a pinch

Long Gone
That’s a wrap for Radio Shack

There ain’t a radio shack left in all MD
Even the one by the food court in frank scott key
No more dollar priced wires hanging off of the walls
Now they’re all empty shells in abandoned malls
I hate to see em all go through the final throes
Now that radio runs off of 1’s and 0’s
But it’s a new day and time, shit's changing up fast
And you can’t pine for things that played out in the past

Long Gone
That’s a wrap for Radio Shack
Track Name: Raw Routes
Another shift in this blown out jungle
Another ride round a silent spring
A day’s work buys a midnight mission
A midnight mission is a sacred thing
It takes a life just to map one passage
It takes a life just to mine one gem
To show em more than just nighttime talking
To give em more than wide eyed mayhem

Raw Routes
Scaling up these walls
Raw Routes
The desert moonlight calls

It’s hard to move with the wind still whistling
With the sand blowing in these eyes
We press on like the old folks told us
Fortified under frozen skies
Best of us seen a dream get melted
To something not worth dreaming up
Still we hunt for a bright flame burning
That won’t wilt like a scarlet cup

Raw Routes
Scaling up these walls
Raw Routes
The desert moonlight calls
Track Name: Gang Way ft. ialive, Hemlock Ernst, Goldzilla, PT Burnem + Mister
{ialive}
Gang Way, it's heating up for the posse cut
Still the rhymes stay colder than a hockey puck
Everyone all around trying to copy us
But can’t repeat what it is, we make it obvious
Fake imposter rosters cant rock with us
The language beautiful like the colors on an octopus
Rocksteady like a mutated rhinoceros
With more variety and evolution than Galapagos

{Height Keech}
Bomb tossing, beat bashing. boys crossing the lines
Like the five man electric, out smashing the signs
I made wine from the vines, plus the mead in the mill
I hit the drum in the night, when it was quiet and still
I’m John Frum on the hill, with a boat full of goods
Driving trucks full of bills, to a shrine in the woods
My minds growing, out-glowing all the corniest creeps
With the meanest team going, got the cleanest of sweeps

{Hemlock Ernst}
Any mandible can cannibal your life in my hands
Candling branches filled with pamphlets on supply in demand
Suppyling vitamins daily, your five alive in a jam
I concentrate, wildstyle the force I operate
Formulas of positive forces
The negative, vibrate and resonate through corridors
Back alleys and choruses
For tourists of the tearing eye, coarse as tongues tested and tried
To escape, the stream of corpses, to the palace inside

{Goldzilla}
Three Sculpture phones, two of them on call waiting
At my shrink’s office staring at a cat painting
All my friends are alive and doing work
XL coogi shirt bigger than uzi vert
Looking for a betty white to slow dance
Hoping the inferno drops betty wright at slow jams
Only rap for the sport and tom foolery
Just warming up to take over for chuck woolery

{PT Burnem}
Diving off the edge and into a forgotten land
Briefcase trusty plus the rhyme stands Heisman hand
No stage, no shoes, no etiquette
Hit you with the wild Bruce Lee type kinetic shit
We keep it under 32 and do it coast to coast
One up to Speak N' Eye, One up to Bowie's ghost
One up to any who illuminate a dark place
That common purpose is connecting us through time and space

{Mister}
Whole world spinning has me feeling Tasmanian
Minus the leather vest repping Harley Davidson
Buck naked, frothing at the mouth
If you’re sitting on your ass, then I’m fucking up your couch
A price menace at any store that I might visit
Never give a free pass to a mic midget
Standard protocol since I was a tyke little
Ketchup and Mustard man coming with them diced pickles
Track Name: I Can't Believe There's A Meme Shooter
I can’t believe there’s a meme shooter
It seems so incredibly dumb
It feels like it just wouldn’t happen
I don’t know a soul so numb
I can’t believe anyone’s laughing
As they sat back and watched it at home
But maybe that’s just what they dreamed
A nightmare unfolding by one of their own

I can’t believe there’s a meme shooter

I believed when I heard about Kent State
I believed Tiananmen Square
They just seemed like bad things that would happen
When power wont yield to the change in the air
But these guys really thought it was funny
To rob 49 souls folks of their breath
It really breaks your heart apart to know
That half the world’s lost in this cult of death

I can’t believe there’s a meme shooter

Must be people out there that feel nothing
Like the earth’s just a video game
People for whom, seeing something like that, or seeing nothing like that
Is all one and the same
And of course, folks, I’m nobody’s doctor
And I can’t cure this insanity
But if you feel the way I’m describing
Please let me appeal to your humanity

I can’t believe there’s a meme shooter
Track Name: Drained Out Lake
Recruit by the nights, shoot out these brights
Boys crept in one step, we leapt toward the lights
We ran hard as nails, don’t drift in that mist
Take this game off the rails, they shot but they missed
We can charge down these trails, an ice cold endeavour
New leads to sow seeds, I’m full speed as ever
Press down on that lever, reveal the whole jawn
Waking up to get moving, off another cold dawn
Hold on, through the static, camped in the attic
My mind is a midnight train headed to Braddock
I’m westbound by route, came back here to shout
Saw the crescent moon glowing, now I’m going all out

We don’t move like a heart drained bloodless
We don’t talk like a drained out lake
Hardest times never broke us open
Hardest days make the stone walls shake
We live now through the lightless chapters
We don’t yearn for the world that was
You can’t plant your flag in our memory
We gotta scream through the constant buzz

Got the old time record player hooked, I stop and looked
Let the 45 play while the pasta cooked
Heard the sounds coming out of the past
About a nonstop summer that’s forever to last
But it ain’t a blue beach, where the unit belongs
Cause nowadays it’s a war, when you want to do songs
We know you can’t bend the spoon, with your force of your brain
We dive in and and kept treading through an ocean of pain
On a chase of all chases, gone for the gold
Racing off to places till we’re haggard and old
In Indio going in, throwing needles to grooves
Where wild starlight’s popping and the mystery moves

We don’t move like a heart drained bloodless
We don’t talk like a drained out lake
Hardest times never broke us open
Hardest days make the stone walls shake
We live now through the lightless chapters
We don’t yearn for the world that was
You can’t plant your flag in our memory
We gotta scream through the constant buzz
Track Name: Working Woman Blues
You work alone, you work alone
Downtown in the commercial zone
And everyday, the same type of fuss
You told me run, you told me run
From the jaws of the setting sun
And every kill for me is a kill for us

I thought by now I could whisk you into some castle
But we're still trudging through the mud in these worn-down shoes
I saw you walk through the wind and the rain
And I know it's a lonely living
Someday we'll cure your damn working woman blues

I work alone, I work alone
Out trying to turn over every stone
but every treasure found has a hidden cost
I try to run, I try to run
But the winter's just begun
I wasn't fast enough to keep you out the frost

I thought by now I could whisk you into some castle
but we're still trudging through the mud in these worn-down shoes
I saw you walk through the wind and the rain
and I know it's a lonely living
someday we'll cure your damn working woman blues
Track Name: Last Light (Hey Dummy)
On the quiet block, where we used to stay
I saw these corny stores in a vast array
That place was lonely in a way it’s never been
The spirit running round had vanished in the wind
It made me think on the short hours in the day

Last Light (Hey Dummy)

They say these final times can turn a man to stone
The sharpest harp gets lost in an endless drone
You want to bring all the good times back
But breaking down’s just a natural fact
We gotta crash head first into what’s unshown

Last Light (Hey Dummy)

Me and my pals get loud by the man-made lake
We got a gold mind squad for the cold heart ache
I ain’t for killing time and waiting round to die
We know the way to keep the lightning in your eye
We know they got us pinned, but we ain’t about to break

Last Light (Hey Dummy)
Track Name: Year Of All Monsters
Mask off for all monsters
Second act for the also-rans
Prime time for all killers
Prime time for the hollow mans
Year of anthrax senders
Year of nails in a homemade bomb
Time of steel fence sitters
Year of quiet evil calm

Year of all monsters (Point em out, Point em out)

Lights on for the pig's head
Lights on for the swarming flies
Lights out for the all is one
Lights out for your lying eyes
Year of screaming children
Year of black pills down your neck
Year of Dos Otaku
Year of nonsense, year of kek

Year of all monsters (Point em out, Point em out)

Age of no more water
Age of each man on their own
Time when no one's laughing
Age of unknowing all that's known
Time of statues cracking
Time of purple thermite smoke
Year of new-born heroes
Year of monster-killing folk

Year of all monsters (Point em out, Point em out)

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