1990-Sick (Kill' Em All) - CMW - Compton's Most Wanted, CMW - Compton's Most Wanted featuring Spice 1

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*