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Spice 1 – 1990-Sick (Kill 'Em All)

Spice 1
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исполнитель Spice 1

правообладатель Jive

длительность 00:30

размер 10.15 MB

битрейт 320 kbps

загружено MC.Searcher

1990-Sick (Kill 'Em All)
Pull an AK-47 up out my motherfuckin gangsta hat Professional Columbian Necktie, barbwire Strangler, over killa, dead fuckin 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, «Nigga, get the fuck 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 slit my throat Leave a pipe bomb and a fuck 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 motherfuckin jack A straight motherfuckin jack A straight motherfuckin jack (Get the hell off my dick, I’m 1990-sick) (1990-sick) *repeat 4X* Nigga’s to pull the lynch, yayo case and stick Marcia Clark screamin out murda, jumpin on OJ’s dick Motherfuckers still sufferin and healin Some high tech knowledga white boys blew up the fuckin fed buildin Crazy niggas still bangin and slangin crack To the death, when the game put em up on they back Motherfuckers catchin AIDS, from shootin hop And phony niggas still get sprayed up on the block And I ain’t changed much, hell I’m still smokin four or five motherfuckin choppers before it’s twelve Motherfuckers 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 nigga, let’s get it on Bustin domes, buck shots through your rib bone So all you niggas up in the magazines talkin shit Get off my dick, I’m 1990-sick 1990-sick, I grasp my dick 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’mma choke you The killa niggas on hop We tear up your spot, Eiht, Spice, and my fuckin nigga Pac Don’t cross my path, no class I be like shit in your motherfuckin ass Bullets I spit at you, your hood I slid through Evil niggas tryin to get rid of you No witnesses so don’t ask no questions Flee the scene, one-time'll be arrestin Killa niggas don’t play that It’s Compton on no like your dome we stompin But in that gang affiliation Shit goes pop, we won’t stop Uhhh, in 1990-sick Chorus: repeat 2X (Get the hell off my dick, I’m 1990-sick) (1990-sick) *repeat 4X*
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