Текст песни Brainless, Eminem

Eminem has a full line of chainsaws
Eminem, Eminem, Eminem, Eminem
Marshall Mathers, Eminem... the rapper Eminem

"Who can say for sure? Perhaps a frontal lobotomy would be the answer
If science could operate on this distorted brain and put it to good use
Society would reap a great benefit."

[Verse 1:]
I walk around like a space cadet, place your bets
Who's likely to become a serial killer, case of Tourettes
Fuck, fuck-fuck, can't take the stress
I make a mess as the day progresses
Angry and take it out on the neighbors hedges
Like this is how I'll cut your face up bitches
With these hedge trimming scissors with razor edges
Imagination's dangerous, it's
The only way to escape this mess and make the best of this situation I guess
Cause I feel like a little bitch, this predicament's
Despicable, I'm sick of just gettin' pushed, it's ridiculous
I look like a freakin' wuss, a pussy, this kid just took
My stick of licorice and threw my sticker books in a pricker bush
I wanna kick his tush, but I was six and shook
This fucker was twelve and was six foot, with a vicious hook
He hit me, I fell; I got back up, all I did was book
Now there's using your head
Momma always said

If you had a brain, you'd be dangerous - a brain, you'd be dangerous
I'ma prove you wrong
Momma, I'mma grow one day to be famous, and I'mma be a pain in the anus
I'ma be the bomb
I'ma use my head as a weapon, find a way to escape this insaneness
Momma always said, "Son, if you had a brain, you'd be dangerous"
Guess it pays to be brainless

[Verse 2:]
Fast forward some years later, a teenager; this is fun, sweet
I just got jumped twice in one week, it's complete
It's usually once a month, this is some feat
I've accomplished, they've stomped me into the mud, gee for what reason, you stumped me
But how do you get the shit beat out of you, beat down and be upbeat when you don't have nothing
No valid shot at life, chance to make it or succeed
Cause you're doomed from the start, it's like you grew up on Jump Street, from jump street
But if I could just get my head out my ass
I could accomplish any task
Practicing trash talkin'
In a trance locked in my room, yeah, but I got some plans, Momma
These damn rhymes are falling out of my pants pocket, I can't stop it
And I'm starting to blend in more
In school this shit helps for sure
I'm getting more self-assured than I've ever been before
Plus no one picks on me anymore, I done put a stop to that, threw my first punch - end of story
Still in my skull is a vacant empty void, been using it more as a bin for storage
Take some inventory
In this gourd there's a Ford engine, door hinge, syringe, an orange, an extension cord,
And a Ninja sword, not to mention four linchpins an astringent stored
Ironing board, a bench, a wrench an oru winch, an attention whore
Everything but a brain, but dome's off the fucking chain like an independent store
Something's wrong with my head
Just think if I had a brain in it, thank God that I don't, cause I'd probably be Dahmer, cause Momma always said


Now my Mom goes wahm-wahm-wahm
Cause I'm not that smart, but I'm not dumb
I was on a bottom of the pile getting stomped
But somehow, I came out on top

[Verse 3:]
I told you one day, I said they'd have that red carpet rolled out, yo
I'm nice, yo, fuck it, I'm out cold
Now everywhere I go they scream out go, I'm 'bout to clean house, yo
I'm Lysol, now I'm just household
Outsold the sell-outs, freak the hell out Middle America, hear 'em yell out in terror they were so scared and those kids
Just about, belted out whatever spouted or fell out of my smart aleck mouth, it was so weird
Inappropriate, so be it, I don't see it
Maybe one day when the smoke clears, it won't be as
Mothafucking difficult, ch-yeah, 'til then, hopefully ya
Little homos get over your fears and phobias
It's okay to be scared straight, they said I provoke queers
'Til emotions evoke tears, my whole career's
A stroke of sheer genius, smoke and mirrors, tactical, practical jokes, yeah
You mothafuckin' (insert insult here)
Who the fuck would've thunk that one little ole MC'd
Be able to take the whole culture and re-upholstery it?
And boy, they did flock; can't believe this little hick locked
This hip-hop shit in his hip pocket and still the shit got
That white trash traffic in gridlock, shit hopping like six blocks
From a Kid Rock, Insane Clown Posse Concert in mid Oc-
-Tober, and God forbid I see a wizard and get a brain in my titanium cranium y'all, cause
I'd turn into the Unabomber, Momma always said


Insaneness ain't even a word, you stupid fuck
Neither is ain't
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