Bakaring My Brains Out (At the Nine-to-Five) - Official Song ┃ Country Music скачать в хорошем качестве

Bakaring My Brains Out (At the Nine-to-Five) - Official Song ┃ Country Music

REAL STORY BTW: ↓↓↓↓↓ #countrymusic #cowboys #song #newmusic #usa it was last fall crisp October morning. I roll in at 6:45 with my thermos and the last of that Tuesday foodtruck burrito I’d left in the truck all week. Zapped it quick, took a few bites. By 8:30 my gut’s growlin like a bad engine. First fart sneaks out quiet… then the next one hits hard. Karen from HR starts sniffin, mutterin about the vents. New kid gags, someone yells “What died?!” Folks bolt for the exits, shirts over their faces. Boss blames the carpet glue. I just sit there sippin coffee, lookin’innocent. Whole floor cleared for twenty minutes—fans, spray cans, chaos. They never pinned it on me official like, but everybody knows. Worth it? Hell yeah. I’d do it again tomorrow. LYRICS:↓↓↓↓↓ Verse 1 I clocked in at seven with my thermos of black, Ain’t had no breakfast but I sure ate it back, That burrito from Tuesday was still sayin’ hello, Now my gut’s playin’ banjo down where the good Lord don’t go. Pre-Chorus Boss man’s in the next cube, talkin’ spreadsheets and goals, But somethin’ dark and evil is crawlin’ out my soul. Chorus I’m bakairng my brains out, fartin’ my brains out at work, Clearin’ the whole dang office like a skunk in a church. They’re runnin’ for the exits, holdin’ noses so tight, I stunk up the break room — boys, it ain’t right! Yeah I’m lettin’ ‘em rip, no filter, no shame, Bakairng my brains out, blamin’ the microwave blame! Verse 2 Karen from HR just dropped to her knees, Prayin’ for fresh air and a can of Febreeze. The new kid in shipping turned three shades of green, Said he’d rather face a rattlesnake than this smellin’ scene. Pre-Chorus They’re blamin’ the vending machine, the drain, the new paint, But deep down they know — it’s my butt that’s the saint. Chorus I’m bakairng my brains out, fartin’ my brains out at work, Gassin’ the cubicles till the sprinklers go berserk. They’re tyin’ bandanas like it’s the Wild West dust, While I’m silent but deadly, and they’re losin’ their trust! Yeah the fans are on high, windows wide open wide, But nothin’ can save ‘em from this cowboy pride! Bridge (spoken real slow over soft guitar) Now listen here, partner… sometimes a man’s just gotta let freedom ring. And when that freedom smells like three-day-old roadkill and regret… Well, that’s just the price of eatin’ Taco Tuesday on a Monday night. Final Chorus (bigger, with harmony howls) I’m bakairng my brains out, fartin’ my brains out at work, I turned the whole floor toxic — call it my country perk! They might write me up, might send me home to stay, But I’ll be back tomorrow… same time, same stink, same play! Yee-haw, take a whiff boys — that’s the smell of the day, Bakairng my brains out in the good ol’ USA!