| They wipe tears, while I wipe fingerprints off lead
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| They say shoot for the stars, I say shoot for the head
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| I beleave in good times having peace and fun
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| But im still in my room, tryna grease my gun
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| Can’t let it get rusty, if it shoot I breaks
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| The only thing I want jammin is my screwed out tape
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| And tomorrow is a big day, gotta get my rest
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| Forty five «G's"out of town, link by a tres
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| I’m all alone, my girl said that she couldn’t make it Cuz she caught a damn cold, and her whole body is achin
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| And I feel kinda nervous, butterflies in my stomach
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| But I drift off to sleep, really thinkin nothin of it Then something wakes me up, and I open my eyes
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| Somebody is in my house, I’m heartbroken cuz I Couldn’t tell my mom bye
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| They finally cought me slippin'
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| I’ma die like a man, homeboy I ain’t trippin'
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| Gunhsots to my dome, jackers in my home
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| Nothin’too fancy just your average tombstone
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| I’m sorry that I choose the life under the cursed
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| I’ll be dressed in a suit, finally going to church
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| Dreams of the cream, enemies on different teams
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| Red beams in my house, man this shit is so extreme
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| I saw 'em dressed up in all black, with the mask
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| And knew I they was comin’for the birds and the cash
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| So I rolled out my bed, hit the floor and stared crawlin
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| And this is the price you gotta pay when you ballin
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| But how did they get the spare key to my crib
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| It had to be my bitch, she gon’die if I live
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| Usually I keep a black glock on my dresser
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| And I’m hearin someone whisper sayin, «Los ima get you»
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| And I know is the devil but I pay it no mind
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| But i’ve been dodging that fool ever since I was nine
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| Gotta make it to the closet, where I keep my mossberg
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| Slug shots, one hit, never speak another word
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| Little did I know they had night vision googles
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| When they saw me on the floor, boys squeezed on the throttle
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| Gunhsots to my dome, jackers in my home
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| Nothin’too fancy just your average tombstone
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| I’m sorry that I choose the life under the cursed
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| I’ll be dressed in a suit, finally going to church
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| Shots started ringin’I was tumblin and diving
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| Running out of time with my mind on surviving
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| Dove out the window, but I started seeing stars
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| I forgot last week bought some burglar bars
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| Now my face is all wet, and I know it ain’t sweat
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| Bullet hit my leg, so I rolled to my left
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| Guess where I was at? |
| Damn right in the closet
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| Grabbed the pump, now it’s my turn to make a deposit
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| Damn slugs ain’t no punk, hit the boy in his back
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| Saw his right leg flying, and it knocked down my lamp
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| Unloaded, reloaded, it was a three men army
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| Now they looking like they got us at the end of a party
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| One was still alive, so I started asking questions
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| He could barely talk, spitting blood like venom
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| He said he had a team, and that people would rent him
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| I killed the messengers now I need to send him
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| Gunhsots to my dome, jackers in my home
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| Nothin’too fancy just your average tombstone
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| I’m sorry that I choose the life under the cursed
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| I’ll be dressed in a suit, finally going to church |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Jackers In my Home, artist - South Park Mexican. Album song Last Chair Violinist (Clean), in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп