Mobb Deep
The Infamous

THE REVIEW

Life is beautiful: there's the chick, there are friends, there's music, there are fists.

But, every now and then, it happens that you're in a foul mood. So, when you're in a foul mood, you feel better with someone who's also in a foul mood like you. They (the ones from the album) have their moods rotating on a planetary scale constantly. From breakfast to the post-bong snack when they get home at night, the planetary rotation is uninterrupted.

Poor things, I kind of pity them, all their dear little friends have been ripped away from them, they tried to rip them off too, the cops have beaten them up loads of times, they live in a hellhole, they started dealing crack as kids, my scrotum would be spinning a bit too, you know. Then considering how they are, who knows if they get any chick, short, skinny, ugly, but black. They have the physique of a geeky white guy, but when they try to pick up chicks they are among brawny, fit guys, it's logical that the chicks don't even look at them, poor things. Totally unlucky.

Mobb Deep, deep crowd, flood of people, why this name? Because when the mobb comes deep, all simple shots become a sure shot.
The Infamous, the infamously famous, why this name? Because when all the police know your name, you're not famous, but in-famous.

From the cradle to the grave, the star of your ending, an eye for an eye, any one of them, survival of the fittest... all great titles full of hope, a lust for life, and a pinch of joy which is the spice of life. On Christmas Eve, think how cool it is, you could dedicate It’s the mudapphukkin star of your ending to Grandma Teresa, you could sing with Aunt Maria I got a gun and i got an enemy, i know what to do... and you?, you could film little Elisa, the latest addition to the family, 4 years old, tender and sweet, as she sings with the karaoke machine My life is finish when it started, from the cradle to the grave, it's the only way i know... BLOW....

Under the tree, bulletproof vests for everyone, and then off to church for midnight mass, what's better than a massacre of believing old ladies for a great Christmas bang? Well, if you want, there's something better: your family goes off to make the massacre, you get them out of the way, remove Mobb Deep, put on that guy Barry White, and invite the woman over. But let's get back to the flood of People too nigga and evil like paprika in chocolate cappuccino.

All my nigga knows only - streeeet lifeeeee - my mobb is gettin bigga - streeeet liiiiiife - my gun is my friend, my gun it's your end.

Every time the beat stops and Prodigy enunciates very clearly, very slowly It's the mudapphakkin star of you ending it always gives me a boost of energy, almost better than Frosties, awakens the tiger in you, Mobb Deep at full blast, set fire to the tree, and when the fire spreads, extinguish it on your gay cousin's behind, if you don't have a gay cousin, nowadays you're too out.

Ah, yes, right, milestone, blah blah blah and various stuff. If I've become such an idiot, it's also thanks to them.

Merry Christmas and get Grandma high on grams of MDMA in the sangria. I'm counting on you.