Bompton Songtext
von The Game

JP Did This

Six in the mornin′, police at my door
Woulda seen them niggas comin' but the cameras is broke
My nigga Ant in the kitchen, cookin′ up for a week
And my lil' homie Pooh on my mama couch sleep

We cookin' base, we cookin′ base
We cookin′ base, we cookin' base
50 grams on the table, a key in the couch tucked
And it′s time to break it down 'cause everythin′ gettin' flushed

Lookin′ out the window, tryna find a way out
Seen the SWAT team creepin' on the side of the house
They threw a canister through the window, it shattered the glass
So I went into the closet and pulled out my gas mask

It's gettin′ funky, it′s gettin' funky
It′s gettin' funky, it′s gettin' funky
It′s gettin' funky, it's gettin′ funky
(And I die ′fore I go back to jail, tell them niggas this is)


Bompton, Bompton
Bompton, Bompton
Bompton, Bompton
Bompton, Bompton

It's gettin′ funky, it's gettin′ funky
It's gettin′ funky, it's gettin' funky
It′s gettin′ funky, it's gettin′ funky

Nigga fuck the cops
They're supposed to have my house surrounded but it′s not
So I'm hoppin′ over the back gate with my Glock
Crossin' Wilmington with 1500 in my sock
Look across the street, they runnin' in and out my spot

Ant on the curb in cuffs
And Pooh don′t know what′s goin' on ′cause he just woke up
'Til my Cincinnati fitted walked in and out the store
Ain′t find no drugs or guns so they let my niggas go

We supreme, we mix that Sprite with that promethazine
Hop in that Cutlass, hit the switch and flee the scene
Euro comin' up the block lookin′ like a monster
Chucking up P's when we ridin' through


Bompton, Bompton
Bompton, Bompton
Bompton, Bompton
Bompton, Bompton

Ridin′ down Alameda, everythin′ was straight
Until we stopped at a light, and ran into the Grapes
My heart beatin' like a 15-inch with bass
′Cause I reached for my strap and it wasn't on my waist

I′m a fool, what kind of nigga go to work without his tools?
And you often watch wearin' red like it′s bool
It's usually on sight with the Crips
My guns stuck between the seats and them niggas ain't trip

Bust a left on Imperial, slidin′ on gold rims
Empty the guts out the swisher then hop on the 110
Look around, I don′t see one black and white
So we rolled the windows up and hotboxed at the light, yeah

It's gettin′ funky, it's gettin′ funky
It's gettin′ funky, it's gettin' funky
It′s gettin′ funky, it's gettin′ funky
(Watched Kobe score 60 on the Jazz, now we heading back to)

Bompton, Bompton
Bompton, Bompton
Bompton, Bompton
Bompton

Don't push me ′cause I'm close to the edge
I′m tryin' not to lose my head, ah-ha-ha, ha-ha