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Published on Dec 7, 2007
[Havoc] Ashes to ashes, dust to dust stainless steel gats that never rust spit the bust you get touch blessed wit the real side of life just enough you couldn't fight the richest 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 terror into 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
Chorus repeat* It's like that war, project niggas strike back it's on what the fuck you sick, I'll be right back
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's heinous, 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 with mac 10 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