Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Brain Cells, artist - Chance The Rapper. Album song 10 Day, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 27.06.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Chance the Rapper
Song language: English
Brain Cells |
I burned too many Brain Cells down |
To be worried bout my Brain Cells Now |
Here’s a tab of acid for your ear |
You’re the plastic, I’m the passion and the magic in the air |
The flabbergasted avalanche of ambulances near |
The labyrinth of Pan’s Lab is adamantly here |
No assignments, book of rhyming and I’m drawing doodles |
I should rhyme rhyme with Ramen Noodles |
Ramadan, I’m the don of the diamond jewels |
Fond of finding a way to kindly tell these toddlers toodles |
I’m a kamikaze and I’m a kinda cuckoo |
I could write a fucking book, non kamasutral |
You niggas goofies since a conflict that is kinda crucial |
Caught you on the 9 in all blue yelling I’m a neutral |
But I’m a let the bull pass like matadors |
Versus a Minotaur |
Verse is a metaphor |
A metamorphoses and I’m a fuckin animorph |
I used to go to school with Anna Fedele &Danny Whorf |
Remember I used to bang with bad ones |
'Til my grandmama told on her grandson |
Mama said that I was way too handsome |
To be throwing the hand’s son" |
Breaking Walls like Samson |
But I’m a throw a tantrum |
'Til I’m on Every Samsung |
Sanyo, and Handheld and Handgun |
Please Put ya lighter’s up |
'Til life is up |
And light it up |
And slice a cut |
The night is young |
It’s nice enough |
The nicest blunt |
The nicest stuff |
My niggas out here trapping a lot |
I know you think you on |
Hiding Reggie sacks in your socks |
I hang with niggas, whole jab in the jock |
.4's for 15, yea my niggas we be taxing a lot |
Only to goofies tho, choking on a doobie though |
My eyes do be low, two be rolled |
Remember days of the Rufio |
Remember the Days of Chan-Man and the Skeeter Man |
Brrrang Dang to Lil' B |
And Bang a Rang to Peter Pan |
Light a joint |
Or spliff it if you classy |
Split a swisha witcha nigga |
If you ask me |
Ain’t no questions hit it vividly and pass me |
Don’t answer about your problems |
Or your issues or your Ashleys |
It’s a quarter to imminent, ten minutes to infinite |
Rims, Henny, and reminisce |
Nostalgia and M&M's |
Cinnamon tone women and |
Feminine’s getting intimate |
All broads is frivolous |
Homies could get they dividends |
Damn, is he illiterate, literal syndicate |
Illegitimate, idiot, gangbanger affiliate |
Sick twisted prick, sick sadistic son of a biscuit |
Man fuck this shit |