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Soundtrack Exclusives & Rarities


Artist: Mobb Deep
Genres: Hip-Hop
Total songs: 7
Year:

Back At You Lyrics - Soundtrack Exclusives & Rarities - Mobb Deep

(Havoc) 

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust 

stainless steel gats 

never rust big till bust you could touch 

blessed wit the real side of life 

just enough 

you couldn't fight me wit your strongest mic 

layed down niggas eyes visualize bad reception 

maced your interference souped your upperbody section 

I travel like a 2-2 bullet 

throughout your body, repped to the fullest 

Queensbridge representin, 

representin the hollow tip crew 

blue slips, seen ships, you talk shit I follow through 

once the kite is sent 

I might get bent, but still planted 

no second thoughts, cuz my conscience is demandin 

for the bloodshed(bloodshed) I leave that mug red(mug red) 

I'm like cancer cant catch me cuz I done spread(done spread) 

gone now dead, enough said from the scene I fled 

wit the paranoid thoughts runnin round my head 

It's like that war, project niggas strike back it's on 

what the fuck you sick I'll be right back 

wit the gat and temper end your motherfuckin era 

your shortie set you up you betta dead-her 

hunger for the cheddar big ends and better 

Armeretto sours alcohol consumption 

why you runnin we thumpin 

do to the fact the infamous is bumpin 

ice real son you frontin 

 

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Chorus 

It's like that war, project niggas strike back it's on 

what the fuck you sick, I'll be right back 

 

Photos 

 

Prodigy 

right back to the fact that 

here take that, right back at you 

were goin at to 

already ran through 

wasn't hard to capture, what is it that your goin after 

the fourty-fifth will make your clothes damper 

put in the hamper 

the fabulous Infamous is movin stainless 

crime-tainin, to all my niggas hold your bangin 

live in action, if you weere dapped then relax then 

what the fuck you said? I be right back real maxin 

blastin, terrin up your Fila fashion 

give him what he askin feelin aint know what happened 

back at the cabin, be at the round table plannin 

spread team across plannin, expansion 

slap a nigga opened handly style something foul 

for tryin to slow down, my cash pile a hundred mile 

I can recall the days, juvenile crime pays 

14 years old, shorty from round way 

brick ass cold, still puffin night to day 

but why did my life have to be this way 

I rock Velour suits, flavors like mixed fruits 

my loot give recoup razors in my suit 

incase you try to troop me to the island 

I known for start whylin 

back in New York, my shortie's got the cash pilin 

peep this on some knowns and teef shit 

so much drama, who the fuck knows who we got beef wit 

lift you up off your feet like ski lift 

for packin big fifth 

niggas who riff but nigga you riff 

then Im on the next life gettin bent in the clouds 

on my way down souh for international crowds 

 

Chorus 

Writer: , , ,

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