Brain Cell Lyrics
| Song | Brain Cell |
| Artist | Cunninlynguists |
| Album | A Piece Of Strange |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Bush, CunninLynguists, Polk ... | |
| (Verse 1: Deacon) | |
| You was manifested in an egg, developed in a womb | |
| Born out of a moon belly, first day of doom | |
| Crying out like you wanna be put back in there | |
| Maybe later in an incubator for more care | |
| Alone, get to your home and your cribs set | |
| Put behind bars and you ain't even lived yet | |
| On through the playpens, when will this fate end? | |
| Parents can't make rent, money from the safe spent | |
| Got building blocks out, making a house | |
| Mama with her cheese blocks setting traps for a mouse | |
| You watching her same loving hands that absorb pain, kill | |
| You're learning that life's more than a board game | |
| Still better line up the cubes in your rubix right | |
| Piece the puzzle together, there's holes in your views of life | |
| Only for sure thing is years, but you gotta fight | |
| Keep the wind to your right or hit the pen flying kites | |
| (Hook) | |
| Living in a world no different from a cell (4X) | |
| (Verse 2: Kno) | |
| Walk up the rectangle steps, take a seat on the bus | |
| Backpack, pack that sack meal for your lunch | |
| Four cornered blackboard makes you act bored | |
| No use paying attention, now you facing suspension | |
| So its back on the block and the calling you square | |
| try to get the label off but you're glued to the cable box | |
| Closed Caption clothes and fashion, so attractive | |
| As you lay on a box spring and old mattress | |
| Choices blocked off, childhood gone | |
| Just future cubicles and retirement homes | |
| But you can't see it happening, live savagely | |
| Only thing you put passion in is Zig-Zag packaging | |
| Swallow Oxycontins to find solace | |
| You need a fix so you hit some blockhead for his wallet | |
| But the gun jams and the cops come to take ya | |
| And now that bullet ain't the only thing thats caught up in a chamber (chamber) | |
| (Hook) | |
| (Verse 3: Natti) | |
| From a cellular phone to a cell on a phone | |
| Or trapped in confession seeking blessing trying to atone | |
| With no more casual pounds with the hand on the clock | |
| Now locked in city block working Lucifers Lot | |
| Down to box for success, is that true or is it not? | |
| In ya room coping with stress | |
| Smoking Kools from out that box | |
| Shit ain't cool, in detention no flinchin, that shit ain't school | |
| Cold sell for a quick sale, but April Fool! | |
| Now your case is on the docket to face a box of your peers | |
| And them bars they trying to take you to | |
| Won't nothing like Cheers | |
| Just years upon years, till your last box is near | |
| Without your participation incarceration ain't clear | |
| If the plots you got are flagrant | |
| It's best that you leave em vacant | |
| Cause there's cells in your mind, that'll free you everytime | |
| Even the tales thrown in these bars can't be confined | |
| Just be patient, nothing in life is by design |
| zuo qu : Bush, CunninLynguists, Polk ... | |
| Verse 1: Deacon | |
| You was manifested in an egg, developed in a womb | |
| Born out of a moon belly, first day of doom | |
| Crying out like you wanna be put back in there | |
| Maybe later in an incubator for more care | |
| Alone, get to your home and your cribs set | |
| Put behind bars and you ain' t even lived yet | |
| On through the playpens, when will this fate end? | |
| Parents can' t make rent, money from the safe spent | |
| Got building blocks out, making a house | |
| Mama with her cheese blocks setting traps for a mouse | |
| You watching her same loving hands that absorb pain, kill | |
| You' re learning that life' s more than a board game | |
| Still better line up the cubes in your rubix right | |
| Piece the puzzle together, there' s holes in your views of life | |
| Only for sure thing is years, but you gotta fight | |
| Keep the wind to your right or hit the pen flying kites | |
| Hook | |
| Living in a world no different from a cell 4X | |
| Verse 2: Kno | |
| Walk up the rectangle steps, take a seat on the bus | |
| Backpack, pack that sack meal for your lunch | |
| Four cornered blackboard makes you act bored | |
| No use paying attention, now you facing suspension | |
| So its back on the block and the calling you square | |
| try to get the label off but you' re glued to the cable box | |
| Closed Caption clothes and fashion, so attractive | |
| As you lay on a box spring and old mattress | |
| Choices blocked off, childhood gone | |
| Just future cubicles and retirement homes | |
| But you can' t see it happening, live savagely | |
| Only thing you put passion in is ZigZag packaging | |
| Swallow Oxycontins to find solace | |
| You need a fix so you hit some blockhead for his wallet | |
| But the gun jams and the cops come to take ya | |
| And now that bullet ain' t the only thing thats caught up in a chamber chamber | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 3: Natti | |
| From a cellular phone to a cell on a phone | |
| Or trapped in confession seeking blessing trying to atone | |
| With no more casual pounds with the hand on the clock | |
| Now locked in city block working Lucifers Lot | |
| Down to box for success, is that true or is it not? | |
| In ya room coping with stress | |
| Smoking Kools from out that box | |
| Shit ain' t cool, in detention no flinchin, that shit ain' t school | |
| Cold sell for a quick sale, but April Fool! | |
| Now your case is on the docket to face a box of your peers | |
| And them bars they trying to take you to | |
| Won' t nothing like Cheers | |
| Just years upon years, till your last box is near | |
| Without your participation incarceration ain' t clear | |
| If the plots you got are flagrant | |
| It' s best that you leave em vacant | |
| Cause there' s cells in your mind, that' ll free you everytime | |
| Even the tales thrown in these bars can' t be confined | |
| Just be patient, nothing in life is by design |
| zuò qǔ : Bush, CunninLynguists, Polk ... | |
| Verse 1: Deacon | |
| You was manifested in an egg, developed in a womb | |
| Born out of a moon belly, first day of doom | |
| Crying out like you wanna be put back in there | |
| Maybe later in an incubator for more care | |
| Alone, get to your home and your cribs set | |
| Put behind bars and you ain' t even lived yet | |
| On through the playpens, when will this fate end? | |
| Parents can' t make rent, money from the safe spent | |
| Got building blocks out, making a house | |
| Mama with her cheese blocks setting traps for a mouse | |
| You watching her same loving hands that absorb pain, kill | |
| You' re learning that life' s more than a board game | |
| Still better line up the cubes in your rubix right | |
| Piece the puzzle together, there' s holes in your views of life | |
| Only for sure thing is years, but you gotta fight | |
| Keep the wind to your right or hit the pen flying kites | |
| Hook | |
| Living in a world no different from a cell 4X | |
| Verse 2: Kno | |
| Walk up the rectangle steps, take a seat on the bus | |
| Backpack, pack that sack meal for your lunch | |
| Four cornered blackboard makes you act bored | |
| No use paying attention, now you facing suspension | |
| So its back on the block and the calling you square | |
| try to get the label off but you' re glued to the cable box | |
| Closed Caption clothes and fashion, so attractive | |
| As you lay on a box spring and old mattress | |
| Choices blocked off, childhood gone | |
| Just future cubicles and retirement homes | |
| But you can' t see it happening, live savagely | |
| Only thing you put passion in is ZigZag packaging | |
| Swallow Oxycontins to find solace | |
| You need a fix so you hit some blockhead for his wallet | |
| But the gun jams and the cops come to take ya | |
| And now that bullet ain' t the only thing thats caught up in a chamber chamber | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 3: Natti | |
| From a cellular phone to a cell on a phone | |
| Or trapped in confession seeking blessing trying to atone | |
| With no more casual pounds with the hand on the clock | |
| Now locked in city block working Lucifers Lot | |
| Down to box for success, is that true or is it not? | |
| In ya room coping with stress | |
| Smoking Kools from out that box | |
| Shit ain' t cool, in detention no flinchin, that shit ain' t school | |
| Cold sell for a quick sale, but April Fool! | |
| Now your case is on the docket to face a box of your peers | |
| And them bars they trying to take you to | |
| Won' t nothing like Cheers | |
| Just years upon years, till your last box is near | |
| Without your participation incarceration ain' t clear | |
| If the plots you got are flagrant | |
| It' s best that you leave em vacant | |
| Cause there' s cells in your mind, that' ll free you everytime | |
| Even the tales thrown in these bars can' t be confined | |
| Just be patient, nothing in life is by design |
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