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​House Of Pain

This song is by The Game and appears on the album LAX (2008).

(Man)
Dodge This

Verse 1 (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 26's...
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 trippen off the WEED smoke...

So ima blow it like the Patriots
And throw my dove up... 'Cause Dr.Dre made me Rich...

Chorus - The Game and Traci Nelson

(The Game)
Where you from?...California
What city?...Compton
What you drive?...Impala
What you smokin' on?..Chronic
What you drinkin' on?..Patrone
What you sitten on?...The Trone
Relax... make yourself at home...

(Traci Nelson)
Welcome to Compton...
Welcome to Compton...
Welcome to Compton...
Welcome to Compton...

Verse 2 (The Game):
I wrote the block off, I talk dat shyt...
Size 12 bo-jacksons 'cause I walk dat shyt...
Dere on Compton Blvd... that's where I walk my pits...
Biggie and Tupac... and they bark like this.(dogs barking)...

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 gangbanger... 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 patrone shot to the head...
And reminise about the shit the DOC said...
"Get money... Get cars... get mine... get yours...
And keep your head up... like the Lambo doors"..

Verse 3 [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... juss 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 dat shit...
I'm controversial... like the Afro-pic with the Black fist...
Jus ask the rapper that had to catch my last diss...
I'm reckless... and I ain't never crash wips...
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 gonna make toast...