House Of Pain

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