Album: 1992 (2016)

Bompton

[?]

Six in the morning, police at my door
Woulda seen them niggas coming but the cameras is broke
My nigga Ant in the kitchen cooking up for a week
And my lil homie Pooh on my mama couch sleep
We cooking base, we cooking base
We cooking base, we cooking base
50 grams on the table, a key in the couch tucked
And it's time to break it down cause everything getting flushed
Looking out the window tryna find a way out
Seen the SWAT team creeping 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 before 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 hopping over the back gate with my Glock
Crossing Wilmington with 1500 in my sock
Look across the street, they running in and out my spot
Ant on the curb in cuffs
And Pooh don't know what's going on cause he just woke up
Till 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 coming up the block looking like a monster
Chucking up P's when we riding through

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

Riding down Alameda, everything was straight
Until we stopped at a light, and ran into the grapes
My heart beating 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 wearing 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, sliding 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
Watch Kobe score 60 on the Jazz, now we heading back to
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

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