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