2Pac ft. Treach, Riddler - Loyal to the Game Lyrics

Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
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 thangs 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 killers 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've been slicin' motherfuckers since I lost my momma
There ain't a cop that can stop me
My posse is cocky and they don't quit until they drop me
I'm loyal to the game

Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah

Without no doubt, I ain't no slouch and it ain't time to back out
So I jumps in, they try to stop-a and watch-a
Slap you cock-eyed like Popeye, fuck spinach
Forgotten more shit than most crews ever know, or ever knew
Was born with seven flows and only Heaven knew
Repeat the boot sex, the news break, the used checks, 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, brother, and here's another
Smack your mother's mamma's mother
The first mom of all those other crack lovers
Backwards 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 green, hangin' posses 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, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
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?
But him'll 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 streets, through the hell, through the 1-8-7
The shorter the nigga, the bigger the trigger
The deeper they dig the ditch-a
The Naughty to Treach, the 2 to the Pac
I brings the Glock, I wets up your fuckin' body
I'm like, "Oh my God-y, 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 doing my rap, but I dies for me 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, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, ah-ah