Track 6 of the album Eastbound · 2013
Mixtape in the Glove Box
by Kane Rivers
“Found a scratched disc in the glove box and it was my own voice from years back.”
rap · nostalgic rap · lo-fi boom-bap · 3:10
Lyrics
Cleaning out the car on a Sunday afternoon Found a scratched-up disc, marker faded, hand-wrote tune Mixtape in the glove box, buried under maps Napkins, ketchup packets, and a pair of old caps Pop it in the deck, the speakers wheeze and then Eighteen-year-old me came rhyming back again Cracked voice, big dreams, a beat from a friend's old laptop Every line a promise that I swore would never stop Mixtape in the glove box, play it one more time Every crooked rhyme still a golden line Dust on the cover but the heart still beats Rolling down memory's long streets Mixtape in the glove box, take me back To the kid with the pen and the notebook stack Track three is the cypher from the stoop that summer Laughing in the background, every voice a drummer Homie's on the hook, now he's got kids and a mortgage Still we text, still we vow to keep the old words portage Verse about my mother, rough but honest still Hear her laugh in the intro, got me feeling that chill Bars were clumsy, sure, but the soul was clear All I wanted then was somebody to hear Mixtape in the glove box, play it one more time Every crooked rhyme still a golden line Dust on the cover but the heart still beats Rolling down memory's long streets Mixtape in the glove box, take me back To the kid with the pen and the notebook stack Now I'm on the road with a better set of tools Still the old me whispers, keep your heart your rules Drive-time voice on the radio, can you believe That the kid with the disc found a way to achieve Not for the fame, but the feeling in the car Fingers on the wheel, humming who we are Gonna burn a copy and hand it to a friend Some beginnings never really end Press rewind, press play The kid I was is here today Press rewind, press play We made it, we made it, all the way Mixtape in the glove box, play it one more time Every crooked rhyme still a golden line Dust on the cover but the heart still beats Rolling down memory's long streets Mixtape in the glove box, take me back To the kid with the pen and the notebook stack Glove box treasure, track one again Where we started is where we'll begin