I'm With Whateva Lyrics - Duet - Notorious B.i.g.

R.I.P Big 

We some niggaz that's gonna make you proud of this game 

Smell me? (Jones, Capo) 

Cash Money (Santana) 

Dipset (Lil Weezy) 

Let's Ride 

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Cause real g's know the feeling (It's Murda) 

It's hard body, no remorse for the killing (Watch It) 

Cause real g's know the feeling (It's Murda) 

It's hard body, no remorse for the killing (Weezy) 

Mad trees and bitches 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 

Nigga, one of my sniplets'll end your whole life 

You ain't nothing but a riblet to a nigga 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 nigga, 9 to 5, 10 to 6 

All night, I can't sleep, I toss and turn 

Got my hand on my pistol, when will these motherfuckers 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 motherfuckers learn? 

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 ass back for fronting on a nigga like me 

You got nothing on a nigga 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 nigga 

Trying to get rid of the life, alright? 

Photos