Subscribe for 33¢ / day

Local hip-hop trio The Gateway Drug has released two new music videos online.

Filmed outdoors early March between cold snaps, the videos showcase emcees Eric Osterholm (The Top Civilian) and Corey Brubaker (MC Brew) as they rap in the streets, parks and places of Sioux City.

The videos were produced by Aubry Peters of Lawrence, Kan. He's a Sioux City native and longtime friend of Osterholm.

Peters was back in Sioux City for the March 5 Siouxland Film Festival, which screened his debut feature "Affection/Affectation." The full-length film's soundtrack includes seven Gateway Drug songs.

Peters and the film's co-star Davis DeRock shot and edited the videos for Gateway Drug tracks "Nintendo" and "Asthma." (See lyrics below.)

Peters oversaw editing duties for the "Nintendo" video, off group's 2010 debut LP "times new roman."

He was a recent nominee for Indie Auteur of the Year at the 11th annual Bare Bones International Independent Film Festival in Muskogee, Okla.

DeRock directed “Asthma,” a single that debuts in the video to preview the group's upcoming sophomore recording.

Lyrics...

“NINTENDO”

[N. Bockholt, C. Brubaker, E. Osterholm]

Lyrics copyright: 2007

The Gateway Drug ’times new roman’

(VERSE ONE- THE TOP CIVILIAN)

This goes… to my youth, to reading Weekly Readers,

Always being too heavy so my totter only teetered.

Payin' meters with pockets of loose change;

Still wash with Lever 2000- things have changed.

They seek the matters, you maintain the facts,

Don't decipher life by acid-coating your lower back

Like my D.J. did. Open your ears and listen in.

Side-effects of the drug-induced life that we lived.

Paper clips hold my pages so the haters can diss.

Quick to point fingers, but never ever penned a script.

Doves cry, but make love just like the pigeons.

...Feed 'em dry rice 'til they explode just like your opinions.

I can't spake Russian, hope I'm speaking your language.

Not the same shit you listen to on the regular baggage

In excess. My best guess is I aim to impress,

Leave you like a fish-- wet and breathless like....

(VERSE TWO- MC BREW)

It's embedded in my genetics, so I'll never forget this

Receiving no credit, gets hectic

Sequestered into reckless words

Blurting out until it gets unnerving.

I've refrained from the complaining

That's waning ‘cuz to blame things instead of taking action

Grabbing the reigns against the grain- restraining.

So, may I reinstate nothing that seems faint?

Just point blank with the rest of the team would be great.

Now I've been deeply pungent since the beginning past the end of that whole grunge thing.

Wanting one thing: that's progress and thought.

I've always been expunging.

Burning sensation as if it's acid refluxing

As we keep clutching the false hands of what we can't cope,

The false image of what we trust to some

It's a trembling feeling that seems overwhelming.

Speech therapy in which I dare to be carefree.

No guidelines to follow ‘cuz you can live your life to lose

Or you can refuse to take refuge.

(VERSE THREE- THE TOP CIVILIAN)

Either you have it, you lack it, you had it; but you lost it,

Can write a good flow, or can freestyle flawless.

Most are jawless, so you's best to check your dentures.

This misadventure's broadcast uncut and uncensored.

Try to test me, and I'll get randier than Savage.

Make a pro look like the average fan stuck forcing the habit.

For the record- this ain't about diamond mines,

So while you paper-chase and hate, I'll toss tingles to spines.

Mingle with like-minds to keep myself stable.

Leave the weak behind, the fake kind here to make Pesos,

Or any denomination. Give me a vain to stick my pain in.

Stop complaining; when Atlas falls, he calls the rain in.

I'll be up-the-wall climbing, the feed-me hand I'm biting,

Trying to find my way, before my way finds me fighting.

Cop-a-feel from a cop to get out of a ticket...

My life's a Post-it Note; I got nowhere to stick it-- like...

“ASTHMA”

[N. Bockholt, C. Brubaker, E. Osterholm]

Lyrics copyright: 2011

The Gateway Drug

(Verse 1- THE TOP CIVILIAN)

If you got difficulties breathing, take a deep breath.

I'm sick of listening to sob stories like the end of 'Beaches'.

Don't care what she says; I'll concentrate on the leeches

That suck the holy out of Jesus. Hate these meeces to pieces.

I remember recess before my classmates started meds,

When Aaron Nevile warmed my heart, and all addicts ate Pez.

I did what Simon Says. May I confess?

I can't wait another minute to grow hair on my chest.

Today’s music lacks purpose. This ringleader circus

is missing the words to change the world and its girls are shirtless.

Verses with plenty of empty and every singers' a dancer.

On a reality show where reality grows their delusions of grandeur.

So give 'em cancer, or the questions to the answers.

Put a damper on their day; display the nothing their rants worth. ’Cause ya'll can catch me with the sun

donating my plasma

Or wheezing over Poyo beats-- this MC's got Asthma.

(DJ POYO BEATBOX BREAK)

(Verse 2)

(MC BREW)

Spittin’ Milli Vanilli like you illin’- you silly.

Self-assassination of the character you’re building.

Using oxygen to lock you in

And nebulize the mocking men.

Genocide to the generic populous

That dare to die from average pop song listening.

Marathons of mouth running

Never in your life could you begin to sound cunning.

Applaud- nah dog- a mirage saw raw conflict from a novice.

Pay no homage, drop no bomb hits.

(THE TOP CIVILIAN)

Worse case scenario...we go around this merry-go.

Shoes tapping our toes, listening to the radio.

Mindless drones: Lights on but no one's home.

Bobbing our heads to the tones from out our headphones.

Best case, you head home and download some poor rappers,

Who aren't in it for the gold but put their souls in every stanza.

They're mythic like Santa and Vlad the Impaler.

So turn your iPod up and take a puff of your inhaler...

(DJ POYO BEATBOX BREAK)

(Verse 4- MC BREW)

I would rather have devotional emotions

Instead of sounding like Ben Stein rhyming: half asleep.

Doesn’t sound factual to me.

Half-ass as can be.

Implementing miscreants get mistreated.

Kids nowadays think everything should be handed to them,

Take a view for mirages, like it’s all “Hakuna Matata”.

It’s like what’s the point of being an emcee if you don’t freestyle for nada?

Miss an opportunity, cause if it means nothing to you it means nothing to me.

If you don’t get on that phone and push redial and reach through dead dial tones,

Even I know you gotta talk about it, be about it-

Logic’s deeply clouded.

Mush mouths stop wasting your breath.

Let’s erase these chumps that fake the funk

While wasted gums flap.

Holler back with a “hell yes!”

You know it’s fickle, blowing nothing but smoke signals.

Subscribe to Breaking News

* I understand and agree that registration on or use of this site constitutes agreement to its user agreement and privacy policy.
0
0
0
0
0

Load comments