Pain Of Salvation - Spitfall | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• Pain Of Salvation
• Spitfall

[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 have a clue as to who you are?
Bro, I don't think so
I mean Mercedes, 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 n