Loyal To The Game


Compositor: 2Pac

[Featuring Treach, Riddler]

Now I've got to ask, on a nigga's ass, tell me will they blast me?

I think of an alias in case these crooked bitches ask me
Now, it's gettin crazy after dark, these narcs
be like tryin to shut me down but I'm too smart

Now picture me scared of the penitentiary
I've been movin these things since the days of elementary

Now tell me what you need when you see me
I'm stackin G's, buyin all the things on TV, believe me

I got some killas on my payroll, and they know
When it's time to handle business, nigga lay low
Although I'm young, I'm still comin up

I'm gettin paid, pullin raises on niggas when they runnin up

The first to pull a strap when there's drama
Busta, you ain't heard?
I've been slicin motherfuckerss since I lost my momma

There ain't a cop that can stop me
My posse is cocked, G, and they don't quit until they drop me

I'm loyal to the game


Without no doubt I ain't no slouch and it ain't time to back down
So I jumps in and try to stop-a and watch-a

Slap you cock-eyed like Popeye fucks spinach
Forgotten more shit than most crews ever know, or ever knew

Was born with 7 flows and only heaven knew
For beat the boot sex, the news breaks, the you shakes
Worse, they heard we got more nerve than a 2-fake

Yoo-hoo to you crew and you too so you knew
I'm from Jersey and I'm a teen so your block more than you do

Whose the new crew?
Show me your neck brotha, and here's another
Smack your mother's mamma's mother

In the first mob of all those other crack lovers
Back was bitch-ass, trick ass, cluk-clow-cluk-clow

How ya like me then, how ya like me, hey-ho, how ya like me now?

Ow, pow, hurt, don't it? Bow, bow, don't run up on it
The same thing minus "P" hangin possies like an exponent

Oh yes, rock in slums, ya gots to run it
It makes no sense to smell like shit
If old ass George could be Washing-tons


Now I be loyal to my niggas on the blocks, just buckin the shots
And packin the glocks
and dodgin the cops, and takin over niggas spots

Poppin after poppin the fools be droppin, the hoes be hoppin
On my thing cause it hangs like the nets from Above the Rim

You lookin grim, is it me or him or him
Or be with me, we be together
So what's up? We can do whatever

Cause real niggas stick together
Till they make it up to heaven

Through the stress, through the hell, through the 1-8-7
The shorter the nigga, the bigga the trigga

The deeper they dig the ditch-a
The Naughty the Treach
then through to the Pac I brings the glock I wets up

You fuckin body, Im like, Oh my Gody
Did I really shoot him? Yo I shot him

So got him, now I puts the crime behind me
And finds me, a place to lays my head low

I lives doin my rap, but I dies for my hood row
So all you fuckin fools

better recognize, and know my fuckin name
I be Riddler to my niggas and Im loyal to the game



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