Notorious B.i.g. (biggie Smalls) - I'm With Whateva lyrics

[Intro: Jim Jones] R.I.P Big We some n***az that's gonna make you proud of this game Smell me? (Jones, Capo) Cash Money (Santana) Dipset (Lil Weezy) Let's Ride Cause real g's know the feeling (It's Murda) It's hard body, no remorse for the k**ing (Watch It) Cause real g's know the feeling (It's Murda) It's hard body, no remorse for the k**ing (Weezy) [Verse 1: Lil Wayne] Mad trees and b**hes in dungarees The city under seas, kitchen 100 degrees I love that summer breeze, I'll stand in it until it freeze I'm from another breed, them sss, southern g's I sip phemetrazine, I lean, I stand tall I'm mean, I'm mad raw, I'm coming like fastball Steee-rike, Yup, so get it right n***a, one of my sniplets'll end your whole life You ain't nothing but a riblet to a n***a with a knife In a fork, I'm a pig myself, I eat schwork So be smart and play your own part If you don't love yourself, I'll make you see your own heart And we don't like the narcs, stay away from the cell Hey, I'ma shoot it out if I'm facing the ail Yea, so tell your girl to come and make me rich Weezy Baby n***a, 9 to 5, 10 to 6 [Chorus: Juelz Santana] All night, I can't sleep, I toss and turn Got my hand on my pistol, when will these motherf**ers learn? (Watch it) I ain't going out without a fight I'm with whatever and I ain't going out without a fight I'm with whatever and I ain't going out without a fight I'm with whatever, It'd be your life before my life At night, I can't sleep, I toss and turn Got my hand on my pistol, when will these motherf**ers learn? [Verse 2: Juelz Santana] It's showdown time, throwdown time Same d-off, four pound time Clack Clack, go get yours, I'll go get mine Check it man, I'm wit whatever Goodness gracious the paper Where the cash at? Where the stash at? I'll blow that a** back for fronting on a n***a like me You got nothing on a n***a like me, you'll see I'm on the grind from sun up to sun down If I'm lying, may lightning come down and strike me right now I'll turn a dollar to a twenty to a fifty to a hundred Keep it coming til I'm full on my stomach I'm stuck in my ways, I'm stuck puffing my hase Hand on my pistol, front of it sprays I'm stuck living the life of a ghetto n***a Trying to get rid of the life, alright? [Chorus]