| I come from the darkness, the hardest place ever to mark this
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| Body outline chalk-style, look at the carcass (creep with me!)
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| As I roll you down the dimly lit, ever tinted streets of Compton
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| A place where niggas throw grenades in the cemetery
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| I don’t even get it The hatred is pretty scary
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| And since everybody’s with it
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| Tends to get a lil' blurry 'til there’s nothing right
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| Niggas out in this calm again
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| To the niggas on the porch smokin' bomb again
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| Now they could be in the suburbs on them brightly painted curbs
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| Puffin' the herb and lookin' for somebody to swerve on, but no!
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| It’s back to the hood again where
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| The enemys prospects look good again
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| Where the packs keep moving and the products got us caught up
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| And fuckin' our own lot up in heaven, our own niggas shot up
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| It ain’t us, wake up, it ain’t us, wake up
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| From something to nothing and truly amazing
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| Like whimsical brushlines on Bob Ross paintings
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| But this is psycho art
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| Meaning the portrait would consists
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| Of body parts of unsuspecting victims
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| A leg and an arm, a face and a mouth-hung
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| Becomes the canvas for us to recite the convo
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| Exchange chains like cinnabites and hook flesh
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| Now you’re covered in blood my don’t you look fresh
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| Picture it perfect like a photo shoot
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| Rehearse, research the product and spit it up in the vocal booth
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| Mellow-dramatic, an act of wickedness!
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| In the essence that we exude to treat you people like a sickness!
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| We just came here to hurt somebody!
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| We just came here to hurt someone!
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| We just came here to hurt somebody!
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| We just came here to hurt someone!
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| You ain’t even worth the download
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| We come in six different covers, you ain’t even got a barcode?!
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| I’m in the sold-out club rockin' the bomb show
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| While you stand outside sellin' your CD for survival
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| I’m a revival of the wickedness
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| You want the title come and get it, this is not even your sickest spit
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| You put it in with a half of what I can hit you with
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| And I bet in about 16 seconds, you’ll be stealin' it
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| I’m into this with an interest to invent
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| A new way to rid us of all your whack existence
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| For instance, fuck resistance!
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| All who ain’t down can get dealt with! |
| It’s business!
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| I’ll leave you chinless like a birth defect
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| Kidnap your pops n' put your old earth to rest and I suggest
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| Another way to impress, all the people in your life that you call friends, yeah!
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| We came here to bring the drama and fear
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| Clear it up perfectly, willingly to see the veneer
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| I’m carrying like a ghost on america’s most
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| West coast fuck ya up motherfucker, leave you comatose
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| Fresh out the dungeon, I run this to a
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| 'T' Daz Dillinger, Dilligent, nigga, D.P.G
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| Old school, new school, Diggy acts a fool
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| Efficient with the tool, breakin' all the rules
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| Spray ya block up!, knock up the baddest bitch
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| Homie catch a hot one if you ain’t payin' attention
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| This is what U do, You gots ta pay the pumps!
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| Niggas, now realize I’m the motherfuckin' boss!
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| It’s the flame that causes inferno
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| Inflamate anything from your neck to your sternum
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| Kurupt, D.A., motherfuckin' givin' 'em Z’s
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| Infiltries of amazing degrees
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| There’s too much turmoil, your hood turn to toil
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| I got these special edition chucks
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| Especially made for Snoop, Daz, n' Kurupt
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| They call biscuits, D-O-Double G-Y, biscuits
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| The bitches love 'em, wanna see why?
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| Keep on yackin' and I’mma kick back by
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| Kick her daddy and chest and buss 'em in his eye
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| Dumpin' all your homies that are tryin' to ask why, cause |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Hurt Someone , by - Twiztid. Song from the album Independence Day, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп