Pain Of Salvation - Spitfall lyrics

[1: Introducing Star] (We saw you every day) With your hands on your crotch and so much to say You went from bouncing toy cars with golden motors To neon striped BMWs and a court of drugged up nodders and quoters Namef**ing fame on all photos, All cheered on and applauded by even richer promoters Now when you're a star, when you've reached this far And the world really knows who you are You show off your six black Mercedeses and drink Cristal like they all do And the poor outside your gates appall you, And the only hood you see is the one on your car Do you even have a clue as to who you are? Bro, I don't think so I mean Mercedes, well, you know... I'm sick of hearing you preach to the poor like before, Only now you're a coward, only letting TV through your door Getting older, take a bow and just go The rage on the stage getting colder like your hits on the chart, But then the talk shows can still get you hard Doin' rhymes on your prime time fistfights And spittin' grime in the limelight like a star gets a chip off your shoulder, A boulder that rolls and rolls over and over and over There's nothing like a broken childhood There's nothing like a broken home There's nothing like a tale from your hood There's nothing like a record of restriction orders Outspoken borderline disorders, a violent long way to the top The longer that you fought yourself up, the longer the spitfall [2: Thus Quote The Craving] You're so f**ing lost that with all of the costs You still don't see that in reality The one thing you fail to buy yourself is a personality You're trapped in a mould of the rap, you sell but you're sold I mean, can't believe that you're paying all that gold to some home decorator that hands you buckets of conformity Seems you're losing your way together with your policy man, Ending up with a new definition of poverty - it's a joke Like those you make in every video to reach the kids with the dough, With every copied "aha yo" and worn out "bro" Guess what we need is yet another clown who can feed our breed with another look and hooker hook Now when "b**h" is mundane you take the lead with "wa**up ho" and let TV blur your mouth once more Just what we need in every store, thus quote the craving: "forever more!" You're so right - a shiny knight on a white steed, truly a hero Yeah right f** you - f** you right down to the core! You know what? You're just another "Parental Advisory" bore! There's nothing like a broken childhood There's nothing like a broken home There's nothing like a tale from your hood There's nothing like a record of restriction orders Outspoken borderline disorders, a violent long way to the top The longer that you fought yourself up, the longer the spitfall... The longer the spitfall... [4: Man Of The Ma**es] You're a man of the ma**es, took all the cla**es Their a**es are yours All those bores who are paying the bills for your palace uphills And your pills that will help you proceed in your greed You are free of the chains that you need on your fans to adore, to kneel down before you, More precious to you than your brains and your hands They live for you! If you could just see this old tree, this patriarchic hierarchy, up where you want to be, you need miles of roots to lick your boots Don't you see? You're a man of the ma**es, you need all those a**es, their fate to relate to the one that you were Do you know who you are? Who are you? Not the one in your words that they buy They concur, you conquer, though a natural flunker, You need them to stay not fly, to obey like the dogs that they are, the cogs under the hood of your Mercedes car They will pay for your trip to the stiff upper lip You're a man of the ma**es, your trip is a journey through cla**es You are high, they are low, and you need it to be so See, without them you'd be nothing more than before, and you know that's not much It's just or unjust such: just a sad little man with his hand on his crotch There's nothing like a broken childhood There's nothing like a broken home There's nothing like a tale from your hood There's nothing like a record of restriction orders Outspoken borderline disorders, a violent long way to the top The longer that you fought yourself up, the longer the spitfall... The longer the spitfall... The longer the spitfall... The longer the spitfall... When you're rappin' your sh** y'all