Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Genocide, artist - Dr. Dre. Album song Compton, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 20.08.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Aftermath, Interscope
Song language: English
Genocide |
| Stone cold killers in these Compton streets |
| One hand on the 9, all eyes on me |
| Murder, murder |
| Murder, murder |
| Call 9−1-1, emergency |
| Hands up in the air for the world to see |
| It’s murder, it’s murder |
| Murder, murder |
| Murder |
| My daddy done killed a bitch |
| Went and put that dome to her head |
| My daddy done killa you |
| Don’t feel a pull a part that man and |
| (Let me up!) What it look like? |
| See my daddy done kill 'em dead |
| Bullets come down from the earth |
| My daddy done killa you |
| Don’t feel a pull a part that man and |
| (Let me up!) What it look? |
| Stone cold killers in these Compton streets |
| One hand on the 9, all eyes on me |
| Murder, murder |
| Murder, murder |
| Call 9−1-1, emergency |
| Hands up in the air for the world to see |
| It’s murder, it’s murder |
| Murder, murder |
| Murder |
| (It's been a 187 in this bitch!) |
| Murderess, murder listen, hit a suburban whippin' |
| Tinted windows ride at your wifey (Blah!) and I bet you miss her |
| Reload the protools and we throw the clip in both trays |
| That’s one on the left and one in the right hand, Scottie Pippen both ways |
| Been doin' drive-bys, got this music industry timelined |
| Lookin' like Rosecrans when these niggas throw up them signs high |
| I’m talkin' about that bottom where it’s hot grinds |
| Shit, I’m just tryna get paid and keep ‘em thighs high |
| Sometimes I feel like I could just bury ‘em, bury 'em |
| Cause delirium, mass hysteria, scarier area |
| I’m very aware that hip hop needed somethin' to carry it |
| So I married that bitch and swung down in that chariot |
| Hangin' way too fuckin' close, beware the barrier |
| This is hub city nigga, don’t make us embarrass you |
| Man, you should be realistic, these niggas 'round here ballistic |
| We did the numbers and you lookin' like another statistic |
| Stone cold killers in these Compton streets |
| One hand on the 9, all eyes on me |
| Murder, murder |
| Murder, murder |
| Call 9−1-1, emergency |
| Hands up in the air for the world to see |
| It’s murder, it’s murder |
| Murder, murder |
| Murder |
| Ahh, recognize whatever side the sides reside until the dead has risen |
| Live in a project building, dodgin' the module ceilings |
| I ride, I’mma ride in a stolen jeep |
| Ride with the eyes of five blind men, my vision (Corrupted) |
| Mama tried counselin', five plans for Kendrick (But fuck it) |
| My family’s ties, had sabotaged Rosecrans existence (abducted) |
| My aliens on surveillance, they payed me a visit (Disgusting) |
| Our stadium’s packed, raiders in black |
| Curls drippin', silver bullet, palladium in my strap |
| I lie on the side of a one way street |
| Nowhere to go, death all I can see |
| I say «Fuck is up?», I fuck 'em up, your supper’s up or somethings up |
| I hoping all get orthotist, rope it before the double dutch broke |
| Plenty ruckus with the weapon I protect it under oath |
| My discretion, fuck your blessing, fuck your life |
| Fuck your hope, fuck your mama |
| Fuck your daddy, fuck you dead homie |
| Fuck the world up when we came up, that’s Compton homie! |
| Murder, murder |
| Murder |
| Murder |
| It’s all murder |
| Murder |
| Murder, murder |
| Murder, murder |
| It’s been a murder |
| (It's been a 187 in this bitch!) |