corrija a letra Letra I’m With Whateva (Original) por Jim Jones

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Letra

R.I.P. Big
We some n*ggas that's gonna make you proud of this game
Smell me? Jones, Capo
Cash Money, Santana
Dipset, Lil Weezy
Let's ride, Let's ride
Cause real Gs know the feeling
It's hard body, no remorse for the killing
Cause real Gs know the feeling
It's hard body, no remorse for the killing

Mad trees and b*tches in dungarees
The city under seas, kitchen hundred degrees
I love that summer breeze, I'll stand in it 'til it freeze
I'm from another breed, them s-s-southern Gs
I sip promethazine, 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*gga, one of my sniplets'll end your whole life
You ain't nothing but a riblet to a n*gga with a knife
And a fork, I'm a pig myself, I eat pork
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'mma shoot it out if I'm facing the L
Yeah, so tell your girl to come and make me rich
Weezy Baby, n*gga, nine to five, ten to six

All night, I can't sleep, I toss and turn
Got my hand on my pistol, when will these motherf*ckers learn?
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, 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*ckers learn?

It's showdown time, throwdown time
Safety off, four pound time
Clack clack, go get yours, I'll go get mine
Check it man, I'm with whatever
Goodness gracious, the paper
Where the cash at? Where the stash at?
I'll blow that ass back for fronting on a n*gga like me
You got nothing on a n*gga 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 haze
Hand on my pistol, front of it sprays
I'm stuck living the life of a ghetto n*gga
Trying to get rid of the life, alright?

As I grab the Glock, put it to your head piece
One in the chamber, the safety is off, released
Straight at your dome, holmes, I wanna see cabbage
Biggie Smalls the savage
Doing your brain cells much damage
Teflon is the material, for the imperial
Mic gripper, girl stripper, the Henny sipper
I drop lyrics off and on like a light switch
Quick to grab the right b*tch and make her drop with you
.45 Glocks and Tecs are expected when I wreck sh*t
Respect is collected, so check it
I got techniques dripping out my butt cheeks
Sleep on my stomach so I don't f*ck up my sheets
My sh*t is deep, deeper than my grave, G
I'm ready to die, and nobody can save me
f*ck the world, f*ck my moms and my girl
My life is played out like a Jheri curl
I'm ready to die

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