2Pac, Riddler, Treach - Loyal to the Game (Original Version) lyrics

Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah

Now I've got task 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, tryna 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' Gs, 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' razors on niggas when they runnin' up
The first to pull a strap
When there's drama, busta, you ain't heard?
I been slicin' motherfuckers since
I lost my mama
There ain't a cop that can stop me
My posse is cock-D and they don't
Quit until they drop me
I'm loyal to the game

Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah

Without no doubt, I ain't no slouch and
It ain't time to back out, so I jumps in it
Try to stop her and watch her
Slap you cock-eye like Popeye, fuck spinach
(Ha ha ha)
Forgotten more shit than most crews
Ever know or ever knew
Was born with seven flows
And only Heaven knew
For Pete and boots' sakes, the
News break, then you shakes, uh
Worse, they heard we got more
Nerve than a toothache
Yoo hoo to you crew and, uh, you too
So you knew
I'm from Jersey and all my team's on
Your block more than you do
Who's the new crew? Show me your neck brotha
And here's another
Smack your mother's mamma's mother
And the first
Mom of all those other crack lovers
Back was bitch-ass, trick-ass, cluck-clow
Cluck-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
Mine has been 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

Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah

Now I be loyal to my niggas on the block
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 'til 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, uh
The Naughty, the Treach, then through to
The Pac, I brings the Glock, i wets up
You fuckin' body, I'm like, "Oh my Gotti
Did I really shoot him? Yo, I shot
Him, " so I 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
Bro so all you fuckin' fools best to
Recognize and know my fuckin' name
I be Riddler to my niggas and
I'm loyal to the game

Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, uh uh yeah