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Mobb Deep

Genres: Hip-Hop

Dirt (remix) Lyrics - Mobb Deep

Call it how it is, according to the facts 

If rap was prison our shit would be the Supermax 

No sunshine, just dark skies 

Nothing but dark thoughts going through my mind 

I got bad blood, mad love only for the team though 

Everyone one of us is the shooter, now where the beef go 

I ain't seen none of these niggas and we out here 

Wanna be celebrity thugs a lot of mouth, yeah 

Oh my god we could not be fucked with 

Real shit look at our life all in the public 

We under the microscope they all watching us 

We have no choice but to keep it trill they sizing us 

And if they wasn't god, always pay attention don't he 

I couldn't live with myself being phony 

Look, if life was a game then I guess we winning 

Cuz this life we made for ourselves is bitching 

 

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Didn't want to do it but the voices tug and pullin' 

On my eardrums something that I knew I shouldn't 

Got me wildin with the ratchet out like shit is legal 

Looking for a victim put 'em in the fetal 

Fuck is going on? when it's on I know it's on 

But shit not really popping and I'm looking for a war 

Looking out my window pointing shit at police 

To make matters worse I'm sipping on some OE 

Shit got me buzzing, I'm already bugging though 

With mad at bottles that I drank about a month ago 

Fuck is on my mind? I'm feeling bipolar 

Plus paranoid looking over both shoulders 

I woke up with blood on my hands 

Fuck I do this time? now a nigga scared 

Fuck, I'll probably get the fucking chair 

Grab my fucking gun, a few clothes son I'm outta here 

 

Photos 

 

Hey Yo Hav, what's good with ya boy? 

Hey yo P, why they fuckin with the baby? 

Got me ready to spaz, son tell him be easy 

For easy fews, I get'em chunked in the shishkebabs 

I got scars, nigga, I lay bars, lay ..., lay laws 

Roast a nigga like... 

Son, you god damn right I fuck fans, I live on tour 

I raise again to shake, my gun got bling on it 

Move like the Mexican cartel, behead and kingfold 

Brass knuckle your jaw, belt buckle your whore 

Take it back to my stapleton days, I'm quick on the draw 

Cocky, my Amex(?) swallows, grip the streets 

I make a bitch shower that ass, before she slides in the sheets 

Allow meat, fresh veggie bowl of sour diesel leaves 

And burn shit, 'till I'm back like Christopher Reeve 

Fuck the Febreze, I'm stinkin' like that Ol' Dirty Bastard 

That's that Wu and Mobb shit, don't turn it up, blast it 

Writer:

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