Loyal to the Game lyrics

[Intro]
(David Wesson)

[Verse 1: Peezy & Payroll Giovanni]
Was loyal to some n*ggas, caught cases and I ain't panic
Knowin' when I go do this f*cking time, they gon' vanish
Peoples I f*ck 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 sh*t five more times, now I'm the n*gga
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, n*gga, now I'm gettin' paid off rap
n*ggas lying in they songs, I just state all facts
Sick I called my n*gga phone and he can't call back
Use to middleman chickens and they ain't all hatch
Only chickens n*ggas know is six-piece, all flats
I'm a boss around this b*tch, I put my hood on the map
I put food on plates, I done bought b*tches 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 b*tches staring at me, "Check out his necklace"
n*ggas that's hatin' ain't got on sh*t, you n*ggas naked
I pay these motherf*ckers 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
f*ck a b*tch 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 n*gga, 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, n*gga (4-1)
[Verse 2: Payroll Giovanni]
Still loyal to the game even though it betrayed me (Yup)
Took some of my n*ggas, 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)
n*ggas goin' broke tryna prove they f*ckin' with me
n*gga, 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 sh*t that got my mans twenty, am I blessed or lucky? (Which one?)
She saw me at the light, now she hintin' she wanna f*ck me (What's up?)
Why would I f*ck you? You be givin' pus*y to flunkies (b*tch)
Life was more peaceful when I was dealin' with junkies (Facts)
This rap sh*t, n*ggas 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, f*ckin' 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 sh*t like laughin' with 'em in the mall (Haha)
Snake sh*t is allowed when you f*ckin' '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 (b*tch)
TVs in the whip, big rims with the lip
But y'all don't know half 'bout this Doughboy sh*t, n*gga