Lirik Lagu Basement (feat. F*U*G*Z, F. Stokes) - Bastille
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TIPS PENCARIAN LIRIK FAVORIT ANDA
ANDA MENGETAHUI JUDUL DAN NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketikkan nama penyanyi dan judul lagu, berikan tanda kutip di judul lagu, misal: Yovie "Menjaga Hati";
- bila tidak berhasil, coba untuk mengilangkan tanda kutip, misal: Yovie Menjaga Hati; atau
- dapat juga dengan mengeklik menu A B C D.., lalu cari berdasarkan nama artis. Yovie dimulai dengan Y, klik Y. Lihat daftar lagu, dan dapatkan yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI NAMA PENYANYI
- Ketik nama penyanyi, misal: YOVIE, akan muncul banyak halaman, telusuri dan pilih dari halaman-halaman tersebut; atau
- klik menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis Y, cari Yovie, dan cari lirik yang Anda cari.
ANDA TAK MENGETAHUI JUDUL LAGU, TAPI MENGETAHUI SYAIR
- Ketikkan penggalan syair yang Anda ketahui, misal:
Tanpamu tiada berarti
Tak mampu lagi berdiri
Cahaya kasihmu menuntunku
Kembali dalam dekapan tanganmu - Masukkan kata-kata penting. Misal: tiada berarti berdiri cahaya dekapan.
- Hindari kata-kata yang berkemungkinan memiliki ada dua versi atau lebih. Misal: tanpamu dapat ditulis tanpa mu.
TETAP TIDAK DAPAT MENEMUKAN LIRIK YANG ANDA CARI
- Pilih menu A B C D E ... berdasarkan nama artis atau judul lagu.
- Bila masih tidak dapat menemukan lirik yang Anda cari, mungkin kami bisa membantu Anda. Silakan menghubungi kami.
[Verse 1]Greyhound, Megabus, clothes in a plastic bag,From shelter to shelter, six kids with no dad.She left the city for a better life,Ran to a small town where the population was mostly white.Racial undertones, trying to get back home,With barely enough to keep shirts on my backbone.Now ain't this real life, numb to what pain feel like.Demons knocking like the sound of steel pipes.Same lady who gave birth never left my hometownBut she the reason I travelled the earth.Locked the door, my uncle's going through her purse."Wake your brother up, they're giving free meals at church."And I can't justify how my daddy could black your eye,Now my sister can't trust a guy.We never had much, but we had us,And my brother found home in a pair of handcuffs.
[Chorus]How am I gonna get myself back home?I-I-I, I-I-I, I-I-I
[Verse 2]The sound of bullets bounce as I write raps in the kitchenDaddy in a cell trying to hold his ambitionWitness the transition from a boy to a martyrSell dope but go to school to be a barberThe ghetto's like a prison, you locked but you still livingBarely breathing up until if you're leavingBut home is where the hate is,And my cousin ain't thirty yet but she's got eight kidsHalf look up to me, but the other half rarely fuck with me'Cause apparently, they think I see myself as betterI see my songs as simply therapyNow let's go back to that whole Greyhound bus bitMama worked there for old white folks, wiping up shit,Tryna save ships, now close your eyes and envisionHow she turned a bus ride, into a spaceship
[Chorus (x2)]
[Verse 3]My home is comprised of many elementsGrandaddy was a junkie and found home in a needle filled with daily medicineHome is far less based on physicality,(The birds are mocking me)But embracing the mentality that you can turn even the harshest conditions into an optimistic galaxy(They call to be heard)Come home daddy, it's okay now(The birds are mocking me)All the tears are dried up, mama's in a better place nowNo guns unless they're video games(They curse my return)But there's a darker side to sex, rock and roll and cocaineCome home
[Chorus]How am I gonna get myself back homeI, I, I am lost
[Coda]From the basement, to the ceilingGoing back home to replace this feelingFrom the basement, to the ceilingGoing back home to replace this feeling
[Chorus]How am I gonna get myself back home?I-I-I, I-I-I, I-I-I
[Verse 2]The sound of bullets bounce as I write raps in the kitchenDaddy in a cell trying to hold his ambitionWitness the transition from a boy to a martyrSell dope but go to school to be a barberThe ghetto's like a prison, you locked but you still livingBarely breathing up until if you're leavingBut home is where the hate is,And my cousin ain't thirty yet but she's got eight kidsHalf look up to me, but the other half rarely fuck with me'Cause apparently, they think I see myself as betterI see my songs as simply therapyNow let's go back to that whole Greyhound bus bitMama worked there for old white folks, wiping up shit,Tryna save ships, now close your eyes and envisionHow she turned a bus ride, into a spaceship
[Chorus (x2)]
[Verse 3]My home is comprised of many elementsGrandaddy was a junkie and found home in a needle filled with daily medicineHome is far less based on physicality,(The birds are mocking me)But embracing the mentality that you can turn even the harshest conditions into an optimistic galaxy(They call to be heard)Come home daddy, it's okay now(The birds are mocking me)All the tears are dried up, mama's in a better place nowNo guns unless they're video games(They curse my return)But there's a darker side to sex, rock and roll and cocaineCome home
[Chorus]How am I gonna get myself back homeI, I, I am lost
[Coda]From the basement, to the ceilingGoing back home to replace this feelingFrom the basement, to the ceilingGoing back home to replace this feeling
