Artist: Spice-1 f/ MC Eiht
Album: 1990-Sick
Song: 1990-Sick (k** 'Em All)
Chorus:
k** em all (4X)
Cause everybody dyin on this motherf**in album
k** em all (4X)
Don't kick up in the dirt when I'm puttin in work
k** em all (4X)
Cause everybody dyin on this motherf**in album
[Spice 1]
I murda like this (this) I murda like that (that)
Pull an AK-47 up out my motherf**in gangsta hat
Professional Columbian Necktie, barbwire
Strangler, over k**a, dead f**in 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, "n***a, get the f** 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 f** you note
Hallucinations of seein lynched bodies burnin
And all the po-po had faces like Mark Fuhrman
Tear gas through my gla** 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**in jack
A straight motherf**in jack
A straight motherf**in jack
Chorus
(Get the hell off my dick, I'm 1990-sick)
(1990-sick) *repeat 4X*
[Spice 1]
n***a's to pull the lynch, yayo case and stick
Marcia Clark screamin out murda, jumpin on OJ's dick
Motherf**ers still sufferin and healin
Some high tech knowledga white boys blew up the f**in fed buildin
Crazy n***as still bangin and slangin crack
To the d**h, when the game put em up on they back
Motherf**ers catchin AIDS, from shootin hop
And phony n***as still get sprayed up on the block
And I ain't changed much, hell
I'm still smokin four or five motherf**in choppers before it's twelve
Motherf**ers think they know me, but they don't know
I'm sellin first cla** tickets to the murda show
Don't wanna rap about no n***a, let's get it on
Bustin domes, buck shots through your rib bone
So all you n***as up in the magazines talkin sh**
Get off my dick, I'm 1990-sick
Chorus
[MC Eiht]
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 k**a n***as on hop
We tear up your spot, Eiht, Spice, and my f**in n***a Pac
Don't cross my path, no cla**
I be like sh** in your motherf**in a**
Bullets I spit at you, your hood I slid through
Evil n***as tryin to get rid of you
No witnesses so don't ask no questions
Flee the scene, one-time'll be arrestin
k**a n***as don't play that
It's Compton on no like your dome we stompin
But in that gang affiliation
sh** 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*