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- Spice 1 - 1990-Sick (Kill ’Em All) Lyrics
- Uploaded by LOVE4LYRICS at Pastebin.com
- featuring MC Eiht
- Chorus:
- Kill em all (4X)
- Cause everybody dyin on this motherfuckin 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 motherfuckin album
- [Spice 1]
- I murda like this (this) I murda like that (that)
- Pull an AK-47 up out my motherfuckin gangsta hat
- Professional, Columiban, Necktie, barbwire
- strangula, 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 stick 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
- Chorus
- (Get the hell off my dick, I'm 1990-sick)
- (1990-sick) *repeat 4X*
- [Spice 1]
- 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 niggaz 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 niggaz 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 niggaz up in the magazines talkin shit
- 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'ma choke you
- The killa niggaz 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 niggaz tryin to get rid of you
- No witnesses so don't ask no questions
- Flee the scene, one-time'll be arrestin
- Killa niggaz 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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