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    • The Game - House of Pain

    The Game

    Lyrics

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    Dodge This

    [The Game]
    Catch me if you can I'm in those old school Barkley's,
    Back to the fence, puffin' on that Bob Marley,
    Flow like a regeno, nigga you already know,
    My competition stiffer than Ronald Regan, let it go
    For you be a mother-fuckin' vegetable,
    You scrap niggas too animated like the Incredibles,
    Let this beef go around like the 26th,
    Its young Game of Flame, welcome to the House of Pain
    Nigga what about the game?
    Keep on playin boy, I'll hop of 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 "Reo"
    After I see I my PO
    She cool, she a Leo
    She ain't trippin' off the weed smoke
    So I'ma blow it like the Patriots
    And throw my dove up, cause Dr.Dre made me Rich

    [Chorus: Game and Traci Nelson]
    Where you from? California
    What city? Compton
    What you drive? Impala
    What you smokin' on? Chronic
    What you drinkin' on? Patron
    What you sittin' on? The Trone
    Relax, make yourself at home

    [Traci Nelson]
    Welcome to falter
    Welcome to falter
    Welcome to falter
    Welcome to falter

    [Game]
    I wrote the block off, I talk that shit,
    Size 12 bo-jacksons cause I walk that shit,
    There on Compton Blvd, thats where I walk my pits,
    Biggie and Tupac, and they bark like this
    As I spark my splif,
    I see the corner, puttin' chalk around the snitch,
    We be shootin' like free throws, flying them desert Eagles,
    Sell dope to the pope, while we eatin' chilli freetos
    From a gang-banger, to a CEO,
    Everything I do is big like the nigga Ceaser-leo,
    Wont stop till 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 Patron shot to the head,
    And reminisce about the shit the DOC said,
    "Get money, Get cars, get mine, get yours,
    And keep your head up, like the Lambo doors"

    [Chorus]

    [Game]
    Guess its time to break the number 9 Jordan's in,
    Make a nigga made, when they been tryna floor the Benz,
    I'm doin' 160 in the fast lane,
    Scott Storch, in his Bogadi, couldn't pass game,
    I got it made like my last name,
    I'm gone, just like my After-math Chain
    Don't make me take you back to '96,
    Leanin' on that dostin', on the corner, eatin' catfish,
    The Game, Da-Da-Da-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 crash whips,
    My pops wasn't around, so this bastard,
    Bleed California from the cradle to the Casket,
    And I wont stop ridin' for my coast,
    Niggas keep talkin' bout my bread, we gonna make toast

    [Chorus]

    send "House of Pain" ringtone to your cell
    Licensed by © EMI Music Publishing
    Written by ROBERT FERGUSON | BENJAMIN KEEN

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