Home Invasion
Home Invasion

The Game - Home Invasion Lyrics

2
Home Invasion Music Video

Home Invasion Lyrics

Once upon a time, it was a nigga from Compton
With a militant mindset and an innocent conscience
He got into some nonsense, nigga jumped in the car with a strap out
Just got done mixin' dope in the traphouse, black out
Back out, rags out, stack house, tap out
Trigger finger itchy, lookin' for opps
In the city where these niggas do not
Fuck around when they holdin' them Glocks
Drop the top while you ride in the drop
In the kitchen, like we know Betty Crock'
Cut the dope, take it out of the pot
Block it up, then we back on the plot
Niggas jaw-jackin' while the cops passin'
Started jackin' diggys, that's old fashion
Turn the lights off when in lost fashion
Niggas in the field, playin' all Madden
Assassin, we back to back in Impalas and Cadillac
Escalate us, matte black with cactus sticks
Hangin' out the back of it
Niggas don't know the half of it
We come through like we cappin' shit
Ski maskin' shit, click, clack, and shit
All in your mail, open packages
On this Compton shit, demonish it, Chronic kicks with confidence
Ominous, obviously, probably be high as fuck
And that's why we trippin', I'ma mind this sit
Wasn't overprominent, neighborhoods just to bring our mama shit
Dominic, niggas shit, they gon' wish they left us on the biggest continent
Ugh, politics, the drama gets sticky, hollow tips, I'm lettin' off fifty
Out of it, 'cause I'm ridin' 'round tipsy, promise this is payback for Nipsey

Once upon a time, it was a nigga from Compton
Through a rag in his pocket and start callin' it Bompton
He was nickel and dimin', it was the sign of the times when
Nigga had to take a deep breath
I tried walkin' straight past him, I see T-Flats and they askin'
I got on my khakis, my rag is hangin' out the back under my backpack
And all my homies in a casket
That's why I'm standin' in the Gap with this ratchet
Tryna get to Tams after that walk, all the way to Athens
So what the fuck is up? My knuckles up
My daddy always told me that I had to toughen up
I got my hat backwards and the strap back in
I ain't had a thought if they was buckled up
I've been outside since I was jumped in
In my hood, they call that Double Dutch
This Cedar Block where heaters pop
And we catch fades, come get this uppercut
Back home with the lights off and the roaches
Can't write shit, can't rap, can't focus
Got blunt burns in my grandma sofa
I'm hopin' I don't end up hopeless
Used to play ball, dribble the rock and fuck roaches
Stack bread whether or not it got molded
IRS circle the block, it's not over
Ain't lettin' niggas get shot without motives
All dead niggas' blocks we drive over
Never look back or stop for y'all vultures
Drive straight over the top of y'all Focus
Ready or not, we 'bout to take over
We soldiers, hold 'em, not fold 'em, boulders is rollin' like Otis
Tempted to take the controller out your hand, fuck my composure
Windows get rolled down, we smokin', enemies, opps and whoever
Outside, no matter the weather, handguns is light as a feather
Fly off the handle, you die, no, we ain't waitin' to ride
We cop your slice of the pie and tell 'em they spacin' the sky

Once upon a time, it was a nigga from Bompton
With a flow like a monster who was movin' that contraband
Damn, y'all niggas is sick
You bet' not hold your breath in this bitch
Pressin' the issue, new vet, I'ma show you what the shit do
New TEC and it's military issue, see blood so it definitely hit you
Ayy, Blood, what they do with all the tissue?
Pass around at the funeral, it's unusual
To see his opps standin' in the background, laugh now
No pat downs, I'm in here with the strap now
Blatt, blatt, blatt, brratt
It's a wrap, niggas ain't comin' back
It's a wrap, you can tell 'em, I said it, nigga been dead and we still ain't dead it
And the whole block live, ten Glock-9s, everybody on they lives, nigga
My team vs. your team, they don't want a sofa, tell 'em take a dive, nigga
Black lives matter, don't they? But niggas kill niggas, won't they?
Pull up on the corner, leave you laid out next to the lady sellin' elote
It's, "Gang gang" 'til it's time to roleplay
He was ballin' at a nigga, OJ
We in and out and we ain't have to crochet
I'm a smooth criminal, Annie, are you okay?
I was robbin' niggas, I was jackin' for beats
I was baldhead when my khakis creased
Jumpin' over fences, what the athletes feed?
I was onto Compton, I was packin' heat
Never met D-Wade yet, never hit the 101 Freeway yet
In the game but ain't say EA yet, Outkast ain't made 3K yet
I was in your house, like

Writer(s): Jayceon Taylor
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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