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 

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 



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 



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... 



MAN OF THE MASSES 

you’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 

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 

they will pay for your 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 is 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 



YO 

you’re just another Parental Advisory sticker surfing beach boy 

yo