IRC-Galleria

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 youÂ’re a star
when youÂ’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 donÂ’t think so
I mean Mercedes
man what a stiff old dull fartÂ’s republican shit car
sick of hearing you preach to the poor like before
only now youÂ’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
doinÂ’ rhymes on your prime time fistfights and spittinÂ’ grime in the limelight like a star gets a chip off your shoulder
a boulder that rolls and rolls over and over and over
thereÂ’s nothing like a broken childhood
thereÂ’s nothing like a broken home
thereÂ’s nothing like a tale from your hood
thereÂ’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


youÂ’re so fucking lost that with all of the costs
you still donÂ’t see that in reality
the one thing you fail to buy yourself is a personality
youÂ’re trapped in a mould of the rap
you sell but youÂ’re sold
I mean
canÂ’t believe that youÂ’re paying all that gold
to some home decorator that hands you buckets of conformity
seems youÂ’re losing your way together with your policy man
ending up with a new definition of poverty
itÂ’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!”
youÂ’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?
youÂ’re just another Parental Advisory bore
thereÂ’s nothing like a broken childhood
thereÂ’s nothing like a broken home
thereÂ’s nothing like a tale from your hood
thereÂ’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 youÂ’re rappinÂ’ your shit yÂ’all


yo
I guess when youÂ’re that loaded
youÂ’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
youÂ’re it bro
but itÂ’s sad to know
when your star implodes
all that shit hits the fans
just like your words back when you shone
but itÂ’s getting late in the game
trapped in repeating your name
again and again
like youÂ’re scared weÂ’ll forget it
canÂ’t blame you
apart from that name youÂ’re all embarrassingly the same
itÂ’s so lame - canÂ’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 romansÂ’ vomatorium
thereÂ’s nothing like a broken childhood
thereÂ’s nothing like a broken home
thereÂ’s nothing like a tale from your hood
thereÂ’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...


youÂ’re a man of the masses
took all of 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
donÂ’t you see?
youÂ’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
they will pay for your trip to the stiff upper lip
youÂ’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 youÂ’d be nothing more than before
and you know thatÂ’s not much
it is just or unjust such:
just a sad little man with his hand on his crotch
thereÂ’s nothing like a broken childhood
thereÂ’s nothing like a broken home
thereÂ’s nothing like a tale from your hood
thereÂ’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 youÂ’re rappinÂ’ your shit yÂ’all

YO
youÂ’re just another Parental Advisory sticker surfing beach boy
yo