Hurt Someone Lyrics
| Song | Hurt Someone |
| Artist | Twiztid |
| Album | Independent's Day |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 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] |
| zuo qu : 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 |
| 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 |
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