Bompton

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