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House of Pain
The The Game
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Lyrics
Original
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Catch me if you can, I'm in them old school Barkleys
Back to the fence, puffin' on that Bob Marley
Flow like oregano, nigga you already know
My competition stiffer than Ronald Reagan, let it go
'Fore you be a motherfuckin' vegetable
These rap niggas too animated like The Incredibles
Let this beef go around like the 26's
Young Game a flame, welcome to the House of Payne
Nigga, what about The Game?
Keep on playin' boy, I'll hop out this fuckin' Range
Look, I ain't even ask for his fuckin' chain
But he took it off like Vanessa Del Rio
Now I'm on my way to Rio, after I see my P.O
She cool, she a Leo, she ain't trippin' off the weed smoke
So I'mma blow it like the Patriots
And throw my dub up, cause Dr. Dre made me rich
Where you from? (California) What city? (Compton)
What you drive? (Impala) What you smokin' on? (Chronic)
What you drinkin' on? (Patrón) What you sittin' on? (The throne)
Relax, make yourself at home
Welcome to Compton
Welcome to Compton
Welcome to Compton
Welcome to Compton
I wrote The Block off, I talk that shit
Size 12 Bo Jacksons, cause I walk that shit
Down Compton Blvd, that's where I walk my pits
Biggie and 2Pac, and they bark like this
As I spark my spliff
I see the coroner puttin' chalk around the snitch
We be shootin' like free throws, flyin' them Desert Eagles
Sell dope to the Pope while we eatin' Chili Fritos
From a gangbanger to a CEO
Everything I do is Big like the nigga Cease-A-Leo
Won't stop 'til I'm dead, ain't gotta watch for the feds
They ain't watchin' me, so here's a dome shot to the head
As I take a Patrón shot to the head
And reminisce about the shit that D.O.C. said
Get money, get cars, get mine, get yours
And keep your head up like the Lambo doors
Yeah
Where you from? (California) What city? (Compton)
What you drive? (Impala) What you smokin' on? (Chronic)
What you drinkin' on? (Patrón) What you sittin' on? (The throne)
Relax, make yourself at home
Welcome to Compton
Welcome to Compton
Welcome to Compton
Welcome to Compton
Guess it's time to break the number 9 Jordans in
Make a nigga mad when they bend tryin' to floor the Benz
I'm doin' 160 in the fast lane
Scott Storch in his Bugatti couldn't pass Game
I Got It Made like my last name
I'm gone, just like my Aftermath chain
Don't make me take it back to '96
Leanin' on that Datsun on the corner eatin' catfish
The Game, The-The-The Game spit that shit
I'm controversial like the afro pic with the black fist
Just ask the rapper that had to catch my last diss
I'm reckless, and I ain't never crashed whips
My pops wasn't around, so this bastard
Bleed California from the cradle to the casket
And I won't stop ridin' for my coast
Niggas keep talkin' 'bout my bread, we gon' make toast
Where you from? (California) What city? (Compton)
What you drive? (Impala) What you smokin' on? (Chronic)
What you drinkin' on? (Patrón) What you sittin' on? (The throne)
Relax, make yourself at home
Welcome to Compton
Welcome to Compton
Welcome to Compton
Welcome to Compton