REVIEW | MOBB DEEP RELEASE NEW ALBUM ‘INFINITE’

When I heard Mobb Deep was releas­ing Infin­ite, I felt a rush of excite­ment and nos­tal­gia. For many of us, this isn’t just anoth­er album; it’s a moment. The last Mobb Deep pro­ject dropped in 2014, over a dec­ade ago. The title Infin­ite feels poet­ic; it embod­ies what the duo has always rep­res­en­ted: raw truth, time­less art, and a leg­acy that refuses to fade.

To me, they defined ’90s hip-hop. They set the blue­print for that gritty New York sound that shaped an entire era. Shook Ones is more than a song; it’s a rite of pas­sage. And now, in 2025, to hear some­thing new from them feels surreal.

You’ve got to give cred­it to Nas for help­ing make this pro­ject hap­pen under his label, Mass Appeal. It’s the per­fect col­lab­or­a­tion, Nas and Mobb Deep, both from Queens­bridge, both archi­tects of that golden era. Just see­ing the album come out through his label made me smile. It felt like a full-circle moment for hip-hop. There’s a sense of integ­rity that comes with it, too. You can tell Hav­oc was giv­en full cre­at­ive free­dom, that the pro­ject was done with love and respect for the leg­acy. It feels like hip-hop her­it­age, care­fully preserved.

When Prodigy tra­gic­ally passed away in 2017, it felt like the whole cul­ture took a hit. So, hear­ing new verses from him now… It’s emo­tion­al. I didn’t know what to expect, maybe a few old verses pieced togeth­er, but what we got was some­thing else entirely. It doesn’t even sound like a posthum­ous album.

It sounds alive. The chem­istry between P and Hav­oc is still there. You can feel it. It’s like P’s energy is in every beat, every bar, watch­ing over the whole thing.

I’m not going to lie, I got emo­tion­al listen­ing to this album. The 90’s golden era of hip-hop had this feel­ing, this energy you could nev­er rep­lic­ate. And some­how, Infin­ite brought that back without sound­ing out­dated. The beats are mod­ern, clean, but they still carry that rugged essence. That’s not easy to do — to make some­thing feel nos­tal­gic and fresh at the same time.

And Hav­oc didn’t hold back. Fif­teen tracks, fifty-two minutes. Hav­oc pro­duced elev­en of them, Alchem­ist pro­duced four, and it’s the per­fect bal­ance. Hav­oc is also rap­ping at such a high level, it’s wild that people still don’t give him enough cred­it as both a pro­du­cer and lyr­i­cist and this album proves why he deserves his flowers.

The open­ing track Against the World set the tone beau­ti­fully. It’s soul­ful and power­ful, with Prodigy com­ing in first like he nev­er left. “Mobb Deep against the world”, that line hit deep because that’s exactly what it feels like being a Mobb fan. We’re like a glob­al fam­ily. I can travel any­where and meet someone who loves Mobb Deep, and there’s this unspoken bond. The track reminds you of your own power, too. It’s one of those songs you play on a bad day to feel lif­ted again. Hav­oc drops wis­dom like, no mat­ter what you’re going through, make some­thing of yourself.

Then Gun­fire hits. It’s dark, moody, and con­fid­ent. The type of track that makes you screw your face up in appre­ci­ation. P was always so sure of him­self, that quiet con­fid­ence, and you hear it here loud and clear. It’s embed­ded in his DNA.

Easy Bruh is that car tune — bass heavy, smooth chem­istry between P and Hav. It’s gritty, but it bangs. Then Look at Me with Clipse comes in, and it’s got this spir­itu­al under­tone, like a con­ver­sa­tion with your high­er self. Hav on the hook flows effort­lessly, and the lyr­ics just roll nat­ur­ally over the beat.

When The M the O the B the B comes on, it feels like an anthem. I could pic­ture a whole room chant­ing it. Big Noyd’s intro is a nice touch; he had to be on this album. The hook goes hard, and those lines about cops “killing people over their com­plex­ion”,  that’s clas­sic Mobb Deep, truth-telling and fearless.

One of my favour­ites is Down for You fea­tur­ing Jorja Smith and Nas. Jorja’s vocals bring a smooth, soul­ful touch, and it’s beau­ti­ful hear­ing her along­side Hav and Nas. Hav­oc opens up emo­tion­ally here; you can feel the matur­ity, the reflec­tion. And Nas, of course, does what Nas does best, drops wis­dom but also fun ref­er­ences, like flip­ping his “Halle Berry blew a kiss at the Bar­bra Streis­and con­cert” line from It’s Mine. That moment felt nos­tal­gic and play­ful at the same time. There are actu­ally two ver­sions of this track with slightly dif­fer­ent lyr­ics, and both work beautifully.

When I first heard Taj Mahal, I hon­estly thought it was an old Mobb Deep track I’d some­how missed. That’s how authen­t­ic it sounds. The way they integ­rated Prodigy’s verses is seam­less, the energy matches per­fectly. Then Mr. Magik pulls you into that dark, clas­sic Mobb world again. They play with meta­phors about magic and illu­sions, mak­ing people dis­ap­pear like a hat trick it’s gritty but clever.

Score Points hit me because Hav­oc reflects on resi­li­ence, all the times he could’ve fol­ded but didn’t. The mes­sage is simple: keep show­ing up for your­self. It’s motiv­a­tion­al without even try­ing to be.

My Era feels like a time cap­sule. A trib­ute to the golden age, name-check­ing legends like Big Pun, Wu-Tang, Nas, Jay‑Z, Big­gie, and Pac. When Prodigy says, “Big Pun, you still here,” it hits hard because he’s not. It’s haunt­ing, emo­tion­al, and beau­ti­ful all at once, like he’s speak­ing from anoth­er realm.

Then there’s Pour the Henny, hands down my favour­ite track on the album. Havoc’s verse is power­ful; he’s hold­ing it down against all odds. The pro­duc­tion is tran­quil yet hard, per­fectly bal­anced. Prodigy’s verse is spir­itu­al, he talks about his life, his leg­acy, how if he dies, don’t cry for him because he lived a full life. He even lists the legends he’s worked with Mary J. Blige, Mari­ah Carey, and reminds us how far he came. Nas comes in with that line, “It’s hell out here, so keep God close,” and it ties it all togeth­er. It’s a beau­ti­ful trib­ute, faith, loss, leg­acy, and strength all in one track.

Clear Black Nights is anoth­er standout. When P says, “Look­ing for me? Look up on a clear black night,” chills. And with Ghost­face and Raek­won on it? That’s hip-hop per­fec­tion, Wu-Tang and Mobb Deep togeth­er again, the alchemy of legends.

By the time you get to Dis­con­tin­ued, you feel that state­ment deep: “They don’t make ’em like us no more.” It’s true. Artists like Mobb Deep are rare now, authen­t­ic, ori­gin­al, fear­less. That line speaks for the whole album.

The clos­ing track We the Real Thing wraps it all up per­fectly. It feels like a state­ment of truth, everything they ever preached was real. You hear echoes of Queens­bridge, leg­acy, sur­viv­al, and some­thing spir­itu­al too, what’s next bey­ond the physical.

The whole album feels like Prodigy’s spir­it is guid­ing it. It’s not about mourn­ing; it’s about con­tinu­ing. Hav­oc didn’t just make an album,  he made an offer­ing. You can feel the loy­alty, the love, the patience. It’s reflect­ive of time passing, growth, but also celebration.

Infin­ite isn’t just about memory — it’s about leg­acy. Mobb Deep are forever.