歌曲 | Hurt Someone |
歌手 | Twiztid |
专辑 | Independent's Day |
作曲 : DJ Quick, Dogg Pound Posse ... | |
“Hurt Someone (ft. DJ Quik & Tha Dogg Pound)” by | |
TwiztidKurupt: | |
Dogg Pound | |
Gangstaz! | |
Yeah, nigga! | |
Ride!DJ Quik: | |
I come from the darkness—the hardest place ever to mark this. | |
Body outlined chalk-style. | |
Look at the carcass. (Breathe with me!) | |
As I walk you down the dimly lit, ever-tinted streets of | |
Compton—a place where niggas throw grenades in the cemetery. | |
I don’t even get it. | |
The hatred is pretty scary. | |
And since everybody’s with it, it tends to get into blurry ‘til there’s nothing right. | |
Niggas out in this calm again, to the niggas on the porch smokin’ bomb again! | |
Now look at me in the suburbs. | |
All them brightly painted curbs. | |
Poppin’ the herb and lookin’ for somebody to swerve on. | |
But no, it’s back to the hood again…where an enemy’s prospects look good again. | |
Where the packs keep moving and the products got us all caught up and fuckin’ our own lot up and having our own niggas shot up. | |
It ain’t us. | |
Wake up. It ain’t us. | |
Wake up.Jamie | |
Madrox: From something to nothing is truly amazing, like whimsical brush-lines on | |
Bob Ross paintings! | |
I’m just like a psycho! | |
All up under the porch consists of body parts of unsuspected victims! | |
A leg and an arm, a face and a mouth-hole becomes the canvas for us to recite the combo! | |
Exchanged chains like | |
Cinnabites and hooked flesh! | |
Now you’re covered in blood! | |
Why don’t you look fresh? | |
Picturing perfect just like a photo shoot! | |
It hurts to search the product and spit it up in the vocal booth! | |
A mellow-dramatic; an addict of wickedness! | |
In essence that we ensue to take people like a sickness! | |
Chorus:We just came here to hurt somebody! (Thank you! Thank you!) | |
We just came here to hurt someone! (‘Bout to blast on buck, buck!) | |
We just came here to hurt somebody! (Thank you! Thank you!) | |
We just came here to hurt someone! | |
Some…one! | |
One…some!Monoxide: | |
You ain’t even worth to download! | |
We come in six different covers. | |
You ain’t even got a bar-code? | |
I’m in the sold-out club rockin’ the bomb show while you stand outside sellin’ ya | |
CD for survival. (That’s real!) | |
I’m a reviver of the wicked. | |
You want the title? | |
Come and get it! | |
This and that and your sickest spit can’t put a dent in half of what | |
I can hit you with. | |
And I bet in about 16 seconds, you’ll be stealin’ it. | |
I’m into this with an interest to invent a new way to rid us of all your whack existence. | |
For instance, fuck resistance! | |
All who ain’t down can get dealt with! | |
It’s business! (Huh?) | |
I’ll treat you tenders like a birth defect and kidnap ya pops and put ya old earth to rest. | |
And I suggest another way to impress all the people in ya life that you call friends![Chorus] | |
Daz Dillinger: | |
We came here to bring the drama and fear! | |
Clear it up perfectly! | |
Willingly to see the veneer! | |
I’m carrying like a ghost! | |
I’mma have it the most! | |
West Coast! | |
Fuck ya! When | |
I fuck ya, | |
I leave ya comatose! | |
Fresh out! | |
I run this to touch! | |
I run it to a | |
T! Daz Dillinger, | |
Dillinger! | |
Nigga, D.P. | |
G.! Old school! | |
New school! | |
Dicky acts a fool! | |
We vicious wit the two! | |
Break ya arm and bruise! | |
Spray ya block up! | |
Lock up the baddest bitch! | |
Homie catch a hot one if you not payin’ attention! | |
This is Rider | |
Two! You gots ta pay the pumps! | |
Niggas now realize | |
I’m the motherfuckin’ boss! | |
Kurupt: It’s the flame that cause the inferno. | |
Inflamate anything from ya neck to ya sternum. | |
Kurupt D.A. motherfuckin’ givin’ ‘em | |
Zs and trees. | |
Infantries of amazing decrees! | |
There’s too much turmoil. | |
We could turn and toil. | |
I got the special edition | |
Chucks, specially made for | |
Snoop. That’s called | |
Kurupt! They call biscuits. | |
The D-O-Double | |
G-Y. Biscuits. | |
The bitches love ‘em. | |
Wanna see why? | |
Keep on yackin’ and | |
I’mma kick dat ride. | |
Kick ya dad in his chest and buss ‘em in his eye! | |
I’m dumpin’ all ya homies and ya tryin’ to ask why, ‘cause…[Chorus] | |
Monoxide: | |
I said…[Chorus] |
zuò qǔ : DJ Quick, Dogg Pound Posse ... | |
" Hurt Someone ft. DJ Quik Tha Dogg Pound" by | |
TwiztidKurupt: | |
Dogg Pound | |
Gangstaz! | |
Yeah, nigga! | |
Ride! DJ Quik: | |
I come from the darkness the hardest place ever to mark this. | |
Body outlined chalkstyle. | |
Look at the carcass. Breathe with me! | |
As I walk you down the dimly lit, evertinted streets of | |
Compton a place where niggas throw grenades in the cemetery. | |
I don' t even get it. | |
The hatred is pretty scary. | |
And since everybody' s with it, it tends to get into blurry ' til there' s nothing right. | |
Niggas out in this calm again, to the niggas on the porch smokin' bomb again! | |
Now look at me in the suburbs. | |
All them brightly painted curbs. | |
Poppin' the herb and lookin' for somebody to swerve on. | |
But no, it' s back to the hood again where an enemy' s prospects look good again. | |
Where the packs keep moving and the products got us all caught up and fuckin' our own lot up and having our own niggas shot up. | |
It ain' t us. | |
Wake up. It ain' t us. | |
Wake up. Jamie | |
Madrox: From something to nothing is truly amazing, like whimsical brushlines on | |
Bob Ross paintings! | |
I' m just like a psycho! | |
All up under the porch consists of body parts of unsuspected victims! | |
A leg and an arm, a face and a mouthhole becomes the canvas for us to recite the combo! | |
Exchanged chains like | |
Cinnabites and hooked flesh! | |
Now you' re covered in blood! | |
Why don' t you look fresh? | |
Picturing perfect just like a photo shoot! | |
It hurts to search the product and spit it up in the vocal booth! | |
A mellowdramatic an addict of wickedness! | |
In essence that we ensue to take people like a sickness! | |
Chorus: We just came here to hurt somebody! Thank you! Thank you! | |
We just came here to hurt someone! ' Bout to blast on buck, buck! | |
We just came here to hurt somebody! Thank you! Thank you! | |
We just came here to hurt someone! | |
Some one! | |
One some! Monoxide: | |
You ain' t even worth to download! | |
We come in six different covers. | |
You ain' t even got a barcode? | |
I' m in the soldout club rockin' the bomb show while you stand outside sellin' ya | |
CD for survival. That' s real! | |
I' m a reviver of the wicked. | |
You want the title? | |
Come and get it! | |
This and that and your sickest spit can' t put a dent in half of what | |
I can hit you with. | |
And I bet in about 16 seconds, you' ll be stealin' it. | |
I' m into this with an interest to invent a new way to rid us of all your whack existence. | |
For instance, fuck resistance! | |
All who ain' t down can get dealt with! | |
It' s business! Huh? | |
I' ll treat you tenders like a birth defect and kidnap ya pops and put ya old earth to rest. | |
And I suggest another way to impress all the people in ya life that you call friends! Chorus | |
Daz Dillinger: | |
We came here to bring the drama and fear! | |
Clear it up perfectly! | |
Willingly to see the veneer! | |
I' m carrying like a ghost! | |
I' mma have it the most! | |
West Coast! | |
Fuck ya! When | |
I fuck ya, | |
I leave ya comatose! | |
Fresh out! | |
I run this to touch! | |
I run it to a | |
T! Daz Dillinger, | |
Dillinger! | |
Nigga, D. P. | |
G.! Old school! | |
New school! | |
Dicky acts a fool! | |
We vicious wit the two! | |
Break ya arm and bruise! | |
Spray ya block up! | |
Lock up the baddest bitch! | |
Homie catch a hot one if you not payin' attention! | |
This is Rider | |
Two! You gots ta pay the pumps! | |
Niggas now realize | |
I' m the motherfuckin' boss! | |
Kurupt: It' s the flame that cause the inferno. | |
Inflamate anything from ya neck to ya sternum. | |
Kurupt D. A. motherfuckin' givin' ' em | |
Zs and trees. | |
Infantries of amazing decrees! | |
There' s too much turmoil. | |
We could turn and toil. | |
I got the special edition | |
Chucks, specially made for | |
Snoop. That' s called | |
Kurupt! They call biscuits. | |
The DODouble | |
GY. Biscuits. | |
The bitches love ' em. | |
Wanna see why? | |
Keep on yackin' and | |
I' mma kick dat ride. | |
Kick ya dad in his chest and buss ' em in his eye! | |
I' m dumpin' all ya homies and ya tryin' to ask why, ' cause Chorus | |
Monoxide: | |
I said Chorus |