作词 : Green, Reed, Tyler Chorus： Kill em all (4x) Cause everybody dyin on this motherf****n album Kill em all (4x) Don't kick up in the dirt when i'm puttin in work Kill em all (4x) Cause everybody dyin on this motherf****n album [spice 1] I murda like this (this) i murda like that (that) Pull an ak-47 up out my motherf****n gangsta hat Professional, columiban, necktie, barbwire Strangula, over killa, dead f****n body hanga Peepin out the window with an a.k., pullin up on these copper Helicoptas, squad cars, swat teams with choppers They tellin me, "*****, get the **** out before ya die If you surrender, we'll make sure that you quickly fry" Should i kick open the door and go to war Or should i stick my throat Leave a pipe bomb and a **** you note Hallucinations of seein lynched bodies burnin And all the po-po had faces like mark fuhrman Tear gas through my glass window pane They wanna put me back up in the nut house again But i'm not goin back and take my prozac They can keep the straight jacket And leave a straight motherf****n jack A straight motherf****n jack A straight motherf****n jack Chorus (get the hell off my ****, i'm 1990-sick) (1990-sick) *repeat 4x* [spice 1] *****'s to pull the lynch, yayo case and stick Marcia clark screamin out murda, jumpin on oj's **** Motherf****rs still sufferin and healin Some high tech knowledga white boys blew up the f****n fed buildin Crazy ****** still bangin and slangin crack To the death, when the game put em up on they back Motherf****rs catchin aids, from shootin hop And phony ****** still get sprayed up on the block And i ain't changed much, hell I'm still smokin four or five motherf****n choppers before it's twelve Motherf****rs think they know me, but they don't know I'm sellin first class tickets to the murda show Don't wanna rap about no *****, let's get it on Bustin domes, buck shots through your rib bone So all you ****** up in the magazines talkin s*it Get off my ****, i'm 1990-sick Chorus [mc eiht] 1990-sick, i grasp my **** The lunatic quick to grab my tech Put slugs up in your neck Compton is the city where i come from Desert eagle packin dum ditty ditty dum I won't just smoke you I be terrifyin horrifyin gyeah i'ma choke you The killa ****** on hop We tear up your spot, eiht, spice, and my f****n ***** pac Don't cross my path, no class I be like s*it in your motherf****n ass Bullets i spit at you, your hood i slid through Evil ****** tryin to get rid of you No witnesses so don't ask no questions Flee the scene, one-time'll be arrestin Killa ****** don't play that It's compton on no like your dome we stompin But in that gang affiliation S*it goes pop, we won't stop Uhhh, in 1990-sick Chorus: repeat 2x (get the hell off my ****, i'm 1990-sick) (1990-sick) *repeat 4x*
作词 : Green, Reed, Tyler Chorus： Kill em all (4x) Cause everybody dyin on this motherf****n album Kill em all (4x) Don't kick up in the dirt when i'm puttin in work Kill em all (4x) Cause everybody dyin on this motherf****n album [spice 1] I murda like this (this) i murda like that (that) Pull an ak-47 up out my motherf****n gangsta hat Professional, columiban, necktie, barbwire Strangula, over killa, dead f****n body hanga Peepin out the window with an a.k., pullin up on these copper Helicoptas, squad cars, swat teams with choppers They tellin me, "*****, get the **** out before ya die If you surrender, we'll make sure that you quickly fry" Should i kick open the door and go to war Or should i stick my throat Leave a pipe bomb and a **** you note Hallucinations of seein lynched bodies burnin And all the po-po had faces like mark fuhrman Tear gas through my glass window pane They wanna put me back up in the nut house again But i'm not goin back and take my prozac They can keep the straight jacket And leave a straight motherf****n jack A straight motherf****n jack A straight motherf****n jack Chorus (get the hell off my ****, i'm 1990-sick) (1990-sick) *repeat 4x* [spice 1] *****'s to pull the lynch, yayo case and stick Marcia clark screamin out murda, jumpin on oj's **** Motherf****rs still sufferin and healin Some high tech knowledga white boys blew up the f****n fed buildin Crazy ****** still bangin and slangin crack To the death, when the game put em up on they back Motherf****rs catchin aids, from shootin hop And phony ****** still get sprayed up on the block And i ain't changed much, hell I'm still smokin four or five motherf****n choppers before it's twelve Motherf****rs think they know me, but they don't know I'm sellin first class tickets to the murda show Don't wanna rap about no *****, let's get it on Bustin domes, buck shots through your rib bone So all you ****** up in the magazines talkin s*it Get off my ****, i'm 1990-sick Chorus [mc eiht] 1990-sick, i grasp my **** The lunatic quick to grab my tech Put slugs up in your neck Compton is the city where i come from Desert eagle packin dum ditty ditty dum I won't just smoke you I be terrifyin horrifyin gyeah i'ma choke you The killa ****** on hop We tear up your spot, eiht, spice, and my f****n ***** pac Don't cross my path, no class I be like s*it in your motherf****n ass Bullets i spit at you, your hood i slid through Evil ****** tryin to get rid of you No witnesses so don't ask no questions Flee the scene, one-time'll be arrestin Killa ****** don't play that It's compton on no like your dome we stompin But in that gang affiliation S*it goes pop, we won't stop Uhhh, in 1990-sick Chorus: repeat 2x (get the hell off my ****, i'm 1990-sick) (1990-sick) *repeat 4x*
