(feat. Jim Jones, Juelz Santana, Lil Wayne)

[Intro: Jim Jones]
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

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)

[Verse 1: Lil Wayne]
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

[Chorus: Juelz Santana]
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?

[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 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?

[Chorus]