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Lyrics » Letter : M » Artist : Mobb Deep » Eye for an Eye Lyrics

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Eye for an Eye by Mobb Deepالقصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone

Eye for an Eye by Mobb Deep

     

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[Chorus:]
As time goes by, an eye for an eye
We in this together son your beef is mines
So long as the sun shines to light up the sky
We in this together son your beef is mines

[Chorus:]
Verse One: Prodigy
Let me start from the beginning, at the top of the list
KnowhatI'mean? Have a situation like this
Another war story from a thirsty young hustler
Won't trust ya, I'd rather bust ya, and leave your corpse
for the cops to discover, while I be dippin in the Range Rover
All jeweled like Liberace
You watch me while Jakes tryin to knock me and lock me
But I'll be on the low sippin Asti Spumante
Niggaz try to creep on the side of my jeep
Stuck the heat through the window rocked they ass to sleep
Over a 3-pack, it was a small thing really yeah
but keep lettin them small things slide and be a failure
If I'm out of town one of my crew'll take care of ya
The world is ours and your team's inferior
You want to bust caps I get, all up in your area
Kidnap your children make the situation scarier
Life is a gamble, we scramble for money
I might crack a smile but ain't a damn thing funny
I'm caught up in the dirt where your hands get muddy
Plus the outcome turns out to be lovely
Got G's in my pocket hit off my main squeeze
Push back, the sunroof, let the cold air breeze
through the butter soft leather upholestry
But mostly, keep the gat closely, 'cause niggaz want to toast me

[Verse Two: Havoc]
Yo I gotta get mines, no matter what the con-sequences
Count up my blessings, add up my weapons
Cock back the gat and let my nine serve purpose
Sling do my thing organize fiend servants
Tryin to make a mil is stress you know the deal
So we sling drills get your cap

Writer : WHITFIELD, NORMAN/STRONG, BARRETT/GENN, ANTONY
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing

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