Spitfall – Pain of Salvation (w/ 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 Namefucking 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 (really?) 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 know who you are? Bro I don’t think so I mean Mercedes, man what a stiff old dull fart’s republican shit car 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 fucking 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 “bitch” is mundane you take the lead with “wassup 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 Fuck you – fuck 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… When you’re rappin’ your shit y’all 3: REDEFINING VOMATORIUM Yo I guess when you’re that loaded you’d better empty the barrel every chance you get, is that so? Empty your word and pose magazine, in magazine after magazine, let every shot go, let the shit flow ‘Cause the show must go on and on and on, you’re it bro But it’s sad to know, when your star implodes, all that shit hits the fans, just like your words back when you shone But it’s getting late in the game, trapped in repeating your name, again and again, like you’re scared we’ll forget it Can’t blame you, apart from that name you’re all embarrassingly the same, it’s so lame – can’t you get it? And perhaps you are right in that fear – more sane than you appear in your self deploring cock obsessive koks delirium But I say, to me you just redefine the old romans’ vomatorium 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 claim that you have fought yourself up, the longer the spitfall… 4: MAN OF THE MASSES You’re a man of the masses, took all the classes Their asses 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 you, 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 masses, you need all those asses, their fate to relate to the one that you were Do you know who you were? Who you are? Not the one in your words that they buy They concur, you conquer, though a natural flunker, and you need them to stay, not to fly, to obey like the dogs that they are, the cogs under the hood of your Mercedes car that will bare you the trip to the stiff upper lip You’re a man of the masses, your trip is a journey through classes 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 spit falls… When you’re rappin’ your shit y’all 5: YO You’re just another Parental Advisory sticker surfing beach boy Yo

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