Yeah…
Some people pray in pews.
Some pray in silence.
Me?
I pray where the bass hits.

When the kick drum thump, that’s a heartbeat call,
When the bassline slide, feel the whole block fall.
Every head start noddin’ like a vow they keep,
Every soul lift up from the concrete deep.
This that Westside hymn with a trunk-built glow,
Where the faith in the beat make the whole street grow.
I don’t kneel to the stress, I don’t bow to fear—
I just stand in the sound till my mind get clear.
Every low-end boom like a truth untold,
Every groove like a chapter in the book I hold.
Call it rhythm religion, call it coast-borne truth—
Got baptized young in the sonic proof.
If the world get loud, I don’t lose my view—
I just tune my spirit to the bassline cue.

Bassline communion—
Where the whole block rise when the drums start boomin’.
Every kick is a prayer, every pulse bring union—
Feel the faith in the bassline communion.
Yeah—bassline communion,
Hands to the sky when the groove start movin’.
If the day break hard and the hope start losin’—
Find your peace in the bassline communion.

I been lost in the noise, I been bent by stress,
But the beat pull me back with a wordless bless.
Ain’t a preacher in sight, but the message land—
In the rumble of the sub like a guiding hand.
When the hi-hats tick like a clock on fire,
And the synths hum low like a ghosted choir,
I feel whole again, feel aligned, feel right—
Like the struggle got a shape when the groove ignite.
Every soul on the block got a chapter scarred,
Got a war in their chest that they fight too hard.
But the bass make space, make the weight feel small—
Make you feel like you rise when you thought you’d fall.
So I give my thanks to the beats I chase,
To the Westside rhythm and the hometown grace.

Bassline communion—
Where the whole block rise when the drums start boomin’.
Every kick is a prayer, every pulse bring union—
Feel the faith in the bassline communion.
Yeah—bassline communion,
Hands to the sky when the groove start movin’.
If the day break hard and the hope start losin’—
Find your peace in the bassline communion.

Yeah…
When the world get cold,
When the mind get tight—
Let the bass remind you
You still alive tonight.

Let the speakers shake sins that you never once named,
Let the rhythm repaint what the world left stained.
Let the glow from the block touch the doubts you hide,
Let the Westside voice keep your hope alive.
This communion ain’t quiet, ain’t meant for pews—
It’s a ritual of rhythm where the lost break through.
Yeah, the beat got power, got a healing form—
In the thump that transforms every life-worn storm.
So I ride that wave with a lifted face,
Let the whole coast breathe in the same bass grace.
If you feel too weak or you can’t push through—
Let the groove remind you who carries you.

Bassline communion—
Where the whole block rise when the drums start boomin’.
Every kick is a prayer, every pulse bring union—
Feel the faith in the bassline communion.
Yeah—bassline communion,
Hands to the sky when the groove start movin’.
If the day break hard and the hope start losin’—
Find your peace in the bassline communion.

Yeah…
Let the bass bless you.
Let the rhythm keep you whole.
Communion complete.