"Loyal To The Game" lyrics
(feat. Payroll Giovanni)
(David Wesson)
Was loyal to some niggas, caught cases and I ain't panic
Knowin' when I go do this fucking time, they gon' vanish
Peoples I fuck with was speakin' down, sayin' I ratted
Ain't told on a soul, check the papers, it's public record
Cashed out my lawyers, I don't do the public defenders
And did it on my own, ain't nobody gave me a nickel
Took my last fifteen thousand and made it triple
And did that shit five more times, now I'm the nigga
Stand ten toes, I was raised on that
Street report card, I got all A's on that
I was in too deep to where I can't fall back
Switched the hustle, nigga, now I'm gettin' paid off rap
Niggas lying in they songs, I just state all facts
Sick I called my nigga phone and he can't call back
Use to middleman chickens and they ain't all hatch
Only chickens niggas know is six-piece, all flats
I'm a boss around this bitch, I put my hood on the map
I put food on plates, I done bought bitches bags
Used to hit the titty bar and grab ones by the bag
Killers walk me to the cars, I pull off in somethin' fast
Bad bitches staring at me, "Check out his necklace"
Niggas that's hatin' ain't got on shit, you niggas naked
I pay these motherfuckers no mind, don't even sweat it
That chain was twenty thousand, my baby, don't disrespect it
Ridin' somethin' foreign as I cruise through the snow
Black Timbs untied, mink on 'cause it's cold
Fuck a bitch one time, I don't want her, she old
'Fit was thirty-two hundred, could've bought me a boat
Paid a house for the watch, so you know I'm living good
Feds charged me with the R.I.C.O., my nigga, I'm paid in full
I'm plugged with them peoples that don't speak no English
Been counting all day, got paper cuts on my fingers, nigga (4-1)
Still loyal to the game even though it betrayed me (Yup)
Took some of my niggas, tried to make go crazy (Damn)
I'm almost at my quota, Lord, don't let them raid me (Please)
I need the ice chain and that kitted Mercedes (I need it)
Mindset of a hustler from the inner city (Yup)
Rollie on my wrist, the price in the upper fifties (Upper fifties)
Niggas goin' broke tryna prove they fuckin' with me
Nigga, you's a joke, I don't even ball in the city (Boy)
You party at a club where it smell like Black and Milds
I'm sippin' margaritas by some water outta town (Yeah)
Oops, out the country, I served dog food as a puppy
Same shit that got my mans twenty, am I blessed or lucky? (Which one?)
She saw me at the light, now she hintin' she wanna fuck me (What's up?)
Why would I fuck you? You be givin' pussy to flunkies (Bitch)
Life was more peaceful when I was dealin' with junkies (Facts)
This rap shit, niggas do anything for some money (Yup)
R.I.P. RJ, Flinto, and Roc
RJ said we gon' have matchin' Marauders on the block
Me and Roc really did that, fuckin' plenty hoes
Me and Flint said we should be in some foreign by twenty-four
Now I'm in the foreign reminiscing 'bout 'em all
Missin' simple shit like laughin' with 'em in the mall (Haha)
Snake shit is allowed when you fuckin' 'round with raw
But it could be smooth if your dog really your dog (Yup)
I done been broke with fifty thousand in the duffle
Even after making that, this game got me on my knuckles (Damn)
'Cause this go to the plug, this ain't none of my cheddar
And I never run off, I just grind 'til it get better (Yup)
We was teenagers rockin' Al Wissam leathers
Prada boots and tinted Cartis, wavin' stacks in the party (Bitch)
TVs in the whip, big rims with the lip
But y'all don't know half 'bout this Doughboy shit, nigga
Was loyal to some niggas, caught cases and I ain't panic
Knowin' when I go do this fucking time, they gon' vanish
Peoples I fuck with was speakin' down, sayin' I ratted
Ain't told on a soul, check the papers, it's public record
Cashed out my lawyers, I don't do the public defenders
And did it on my own, ain't nobody gave me a nickel
Took my last fifteen thousand and made it triple
And did that shit five more times, now I'm the nigga
Stand ten toes, I was raised on that
Street report card, I got all A's on that
I was in too deep to where I can't fall back
Switched the hustle, nigga, now I'm gettin' paid off rap
Niggas lying in they songs, I just state all facts
Sick I called my nigga phone and he can't call back
Use to middleman chickens and they ain't all hatch
Only chickens niggas know is six-piece, all flats
I'm a boss around this bitch, I put my hood on the map
I put food on plates, I done bought bitches bags
Used to hit the titty bar and grab ones by the bag
Killers walk me to the cars, I pull off in somethin' fast
Bad bitches staring at me, "Check out his necklace"
Niggas that's hatin' ain't got on shit, you niggas naked
I pay these motherfuckers no mind, don't even sweat it
That chain was twenty thousand, my baby, don't disrespect it
Ridin' somethin' foreign as I cruise through the snow
Black Timbs untied, mink on 'cause it's cold
Fuck a bitch one time, I don't want her, she old
'Fit was thirty-two hundred, could've bought me a boat
Paid a house for the watch, so you know I'm living good
Feds charged me with the R.I.C.O., my nigga, I'm paid in full
I'm plugged with them peoples that don't speak no English
Been counting all day, got paper cuts on my fingers, nigga (4-1)
Still loyal to the game even though it betrayed me (Yup)
Took some of my niggas, tried to make go crazy (Damn)
I'm almost at my quota, Lord, don't let them raid me (Please)
I need the ice chain and that kitted Mercedes (I need it)
Mindset of a hustler from the inner city (Yup)
Rollie on my wrist, the price in the upper fifties (Upper fifties)
Niggas goin' broke tryna prove they fuckin' with me
Nigga, you's a joke, I don't even ball in the city (Boy)
You party at a club where it smell like Black and Milds
I'm sippin' margaritas by some water outta town (Yeah)
Oops, out the country, I served dog food as a puppy
Same shit that got my mans twenty, am I blessed or lucky? (Which one?)
She saw me at the light, now she hintin' she wanna fuck me (What's up?)
Why would I fuck you? You be givin' pussy to flunkies (Bitch)
Life was more peaceful when I was dealin' with junkies (Facts)
This rap shit, niggas do anything for some money (Yup)
R.I.P. RJ, Flinto, and Roc
RJ said we gon' have matchin' Marauders on the block
Me and Roc really did that, fuckin' plenty hoes
Me and Flint said we should be in some foreign by twenty-four
Now I'm in the foreign reminiscing 'bout 'em all
Missin' simple shit like laughin' with 'em in the mall (Haha)
Snake shit is allowed when you fuckin' 'round with raw
But it could be smooth if your dog really your dog (Yup)
I done been broke with fifty thousand in the duffle
Even after making that, this game got me on my knuckles (Damn)
'Cause this go to the plug, this ain't none of my cheddar
And I never run off, I just grind 'til it get better (Yup)
We was teenagers rockin' Al Wissam leathers
Prada boots and tinted Cartis, wavin' stacks in the party (Bitch)
TVs in the whip, big rims with the lip
But y'all don't know half 'bout this Doughboy shit, nigga
