[{"id":12210127,"name":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","trackName":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","artistName":"1999 WRITE THE FUTURE","albumName":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","duration":145.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You're now listening to 1999\nKeep it lo-fi\nYeah, ay\nApparently they tried to get him out the picture\nPheromones are back, been gone too many winters\nCourthouses full of people pointin' fingers\nLittle did they know\nIt's gon' take more than that to bury me\nKillin Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin'\nWe against defeat, that's not our fantasy\nLil' hoe aye, yeah, aye\nAw\nBottles on bottles I'm talkin' le labo\nI speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\nYou might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\nFuck with the journey\nIf anything I'm puttin' you on a jersey\nI fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a nine out of ten\nBut I'd prolly not do it again\nYeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch\nI hate pillow talkin' to bitches\nYou ridin' this dick but you don't have no interests\nThey movin' like ramen noodles way\nThe heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant\nThat fame was my bitch for a sec but I'm over her\nNow we maintaining a distance, uh\nYou have arrived at Cupertino station\nDoors are opening\nRicky Ravioli\nIt's the biggest boss, baby\nIt's the biggest baby, yes\nLet's go\nTop down, my smoke thick\nFree throws, I don't miss\nWhite tees, my hat back\nMy bitch bad, I love this\nI run past that fuck shit\nThat small talk some fuck shit\nRich nigga, my forecast\nAnything else is suspect\nBoss\nLaid back, let's roll up (boss)\nSmoke good, my nose up\nBoss\nRoscoe's, I'm iced out\nThem niggas know my polar\nWoo\nCheck this out, so hold up\nJada Pinkett done sold dust\nHold up\nDouble M, we on one\nRight back with the Cold Crush\nI been rich, do research\nRun it\nTop down on three perks\nRun it\nSouth Beach, I moonlight\nNiggas know what I move like\nAnd she know what my mood like\nLuc Belaire, it's a smooth night\nWoo\nDark room, I'm iced out\nIced out\nSunrise, it's lights out\nBiggest\nMaybach Music","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚\n  artist: 1999 WRITE THE FUTURE\n  album: LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚\n  duration_ms: 145000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You're now listening to 1999\n  Keep it lo-fi\n  Yeah, ay\n  Apparently they tried to get him out the picture\n  Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  Little did they know\n  It's gon' take more than that to bury me\n  Killin Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin'\n  We against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  Lil' hoe aye, yeah, aye\n  Aw\n  Bottles on bottles I'm talkin' le labo\n  I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n  Fuck with the journey\n  If anything I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a nine out of ten\n  But I'd prolly not do it again\n  Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch\n  I hate pillow talkin' to bitches\n  You ridin' this dick but you don't have no interests\n  They movin' like ramen noodles way\n  The heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant\n  That fame was my bitch for a sec but I'm over her\n  Now we maintaining a distance, uh\n  You have arrived at Cupertino station\n  Doors are opening\n  Ricky Ravioli\n  It's the biggest boss, baby\n  It's the biggest baby, yes\n  Let's go\n  Top down, my smoke thick\n  Free throws, I don't miss\n  White tees, my hat back\n  My bitch bad, I love this\n  I run past that fuck shit\n  That small talk some fuck shit\n  Rich nigga, my forecast\n  Anything else is suspect\n  Boss\n  Laid back, let's roll up (boss)\n  Smoke good, my nose up\n  Boss\n  Roscoe's, I'm iced out\n  Them niggas know my polar\n  Woo\n  Check this out, so hold up\n  Jada Pinkett done sold dust\n  Hold up\n  Double M, we on one\n  Right back with the Cold Crush\n  I been rich, do research\n  Run it\n  Top down on three perks\n  Run it\n  South Beach, I moonlight\n  Niggas know what I move like\n  And she know what my mood like\n  Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night\n  Woo\n  Dark room, I'm iced out\n  Iced out\n  Sunrise, it's lights out\n  Biggest\n  Maybach Music\n"},{"id":12862836,"name":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","trackName":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","artistName":"1999 WRITE THE FUTURE, Rick Ross, Rich Brian","albumName":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","duration":145.30102040816325,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\nYeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\nPheromones are back, been gone too many winters\nCourthouses full of people pointin' fingers\nLittle did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\nKillin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\nLil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\nI speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\nYou might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\nAyy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\nI fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\nYeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\nYou ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\nThey movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\nThat fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n(You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\nRicky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\nHuh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\nTop-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\nWhite tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\nI run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\nRich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\nLaid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\nRoscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\nCheck this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\nDouble M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\nI been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\nSouth Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\nAnd she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\nDark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.40] You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n[00:14.27] Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n[00:18.37] Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n[00:20.15] Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n[00:21.42] Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n[00:24.77] Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n[00:28.31] Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n[00:32.22] I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n[00:33.55] You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n[00:36.85] Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n[00:39.61] I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n[00:43.25] Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n[00:47.98] You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n[00:50.24] They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n[00:53.27] That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n[01:00.56] (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n[01:05.39] Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n[01:09.22] Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n[01:12.57] Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n[01:15.98] White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n[01:19.36] I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n[01:22.96] Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n[01:26.71] Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n[01:30.17] Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n[01:33.93] Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n[01:37.51] Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n[01:41.17] I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n[01:44.86] South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n[01:48.62] And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n[01:52.01] Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n[01:57.95] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:01.72] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:05.48] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:08.91] (La-la-la-la)\n[02:12.56] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:16.19] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:20.09] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:22.37] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚\n  artist: 1999 WRITE THE FUTURE, Rick Ross, Rich Brian\n  album: LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚\n  duration_ms: 145301\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n  start_ms: 11400\n  end_ms: 14270\n- text: Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  start_ms: 14270\n  end_ms: 18370\n- text: Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  start_ms: 18370\n  end_ms: 20150\n- text: Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  start_ms: 20150\n  end_ms: 21420\n- text: Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n  start_ms: 21420\n  end_ms: 24770\n- text: Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  start_ms: 24770\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 32220\n- text: I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  start_ms: 32220\n  end_ms: 33550\n- text: You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n  start_ms: 33550\n  end_ms: 36850\n- text: Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  start_ms: 36850\n  end_ms: 39610\n- text: I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  start_ms: 39610\n  end_ms: 43250\n- text: Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  start_ms: 43250\n  end_ms: 47980\n- text: You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  start_ms: 47980\n  end_ms: 50240\n- text: They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  start_ms: 50240\n  end_ms: 53270\n- text: That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n  start_ms: 53270\n  end_ms: 60560\n- text: (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  start_ms: 60560\n  end_ms: 65390\n- text: Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  start_ms: 65390\n  end_ms: 69220\n- text: Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n  start_ms: 69220\n  end_ms: 72570\n- text: Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  start_ms: 72570\n  end_ms: 75980\n- text: White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  start_ms: 75980\n  end_ms: 79360\n- text: I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  start_ms: 79360\n  end_ms: 82960\n- text: Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n  start_ms: 82960\n  end_ms: 86710\n- text: Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  start_ms: 86710\n  end_ms: 90170\n- text: Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  start_ms: 90170\n  end_ms: 93930\n- text: Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  start_ms: 93930\n  end_ms: 97510\n- text: Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n  start_ms: 97510\n  end_ms: 101170\n- text: I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  start_ms: 101170\n  end_ms: 104860\n- text: South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  start_ms: 104860\n  end_ms: 108620\n- text: And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  start_ms: 108620\n  end_ms: 112010\n- text: Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n  start_ms: 112010\n  end_ms: 117950\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 117950\n  end_ms: 121720\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 121720\n  end_ms: 125480\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 125480\n  end_ms: 128910\n- text: (La-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 128910\n  end_ms: 132560\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 132560\n  end_ms: 136190\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 136190\n  end_ms: 140090\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 140090\n  end_ms: 142370\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 142370\nplain: |-\n  You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\n  Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\n  Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\n  Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n  (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\n  Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\n  Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\n  I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n"},{"id":6909926,"name":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","trackName":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","artistName":"1999 WRITE THE FUTURE feat. Rick Ross & Rich Brian","albumName":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","duration":145.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\nYeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\nPheromones are back, been gone too many winters\nCourthouses full of people pointin' fingers\nLittle did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\nKillin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\nLil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\nI speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\nYou might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\nAyy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\nI fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\nYeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\nYou ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\nThey movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\nThat fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n(You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\nRicky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\nHuh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\nTop-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\nWhite tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\nI run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\nRich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\nLaid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\nRoscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\nCheck this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\nDouble M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\nI been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\nSouth Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\nAnd she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\nDark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.40] You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n[00:14.27] Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n[00:18.37] Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n[00:20.15] Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n[00:21.42] Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n[00:24.77] Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n[00:28.31] Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n[00:32.22] I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n[00:33.55] You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n[00:36.85] Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n[00:39.61] I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n[00:43.25] Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n[00:47.98] You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n[00:50.24] They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n[00:53.27] That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n[01:00.56] (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n[01:05.39] Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n[01:09.22] Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n[01:12.57] Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n[01:15.98] White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n[01:19.36] I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n[01:22.96] Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n[01:26.71] Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n[01:30.17] Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n[01:33.93] Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n[01:37.51] Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n[01:41.17] I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n[01:44.86] South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n[01:48.62] And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n[01:52.01] Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n[01:57.95] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:01.72] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:05.48] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:08.91] (La-la-la-la)\n[02:12.56] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:16.19] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:20.09] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:22.37] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚\n  artist: 1999 WRITE THE FUTURE feat. Rick Ross & Rich Brian\n  album: LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚\n  duration_ms: 145000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n  start_ms: 11400\n  end_ms: 14270\n- text: Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  start_ms: 14270\n  end_ms: 18370\n- text: Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  start_ms: 18370\n  end_ms: 20150\n- text: Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  start_ms: 20150\n  end_ms: 21420\n- text: Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n  start_ms: 21420\n  end_ms: 24770\n- text: Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  start_ms: 24770\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 32220\n- text: I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  start_ms: 32220\n  end_ms: 33550\n- text: You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n  start_ms: 33550\n  end_ms: 36850\n- text: Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  start_ms: 36850\n  end_ms: 39610\n- text: I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  start_ms: 39610\n  end_ms: 43250\n- text: Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  start_ms: 43250\n  end_ms: 47980\n- text: You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  start_ms: 47980\n  end_ms: 50240\n- text: They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  start_ms: 50240\n  end_ms: 53270\n- text: That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n  start_ms: 53270\n  end_ms: 60560\n- text: (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  start_ms: 60560\n  end_ms: 65390\n- text: Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  start_ms: 65390\n  end_ms: 69220\n- text: Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n  start_ms: 69220\n  end_ms: 72570\n- text: Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  start_ms: 72570\n  end_ms: 75980\n- text: White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  start_ms: 75980\n  end_ms: 79360\n- text: I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  start_ms: 79360\n  end_ms: 82960\n- text: Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n  start_ms: 82960\n  end_ms: 86710\n- text: Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  start_ms: 86710\n  end_ms: 90170\n- text: Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  start_ms: 90170\n  end_ms: 93930\n- text: Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  start_ms: 93930\n  end_ms: 97510\n- text: Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n  start_ms: 97510\n  end_ms: 101170\n- text: I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  start_ms: 101170\n  end_ms: 104860\n- text: South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  start_ms: 104860\n  end_ms: 108620\n- text: And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  start_ms: 108620\n  end_ms: 112010\n- text: Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n  start_ms: 112010\n  end_ms: 117950\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 117950\n  end_ms: 121720\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 121720\n  end_ms: 125480\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 125480\n  end_ms: 128910\n- text: (La-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 128910\n  end_ms: 132560\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 132560\n  end_ms: 136190\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 136190\n  end_ms: 140090\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 140090\n  end_ms: 142370\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 142370\nplain: |-\n  You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\n  Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\n  Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\n  Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n  (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\n  Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\n  Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\n  I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n"},{"id":14453585,"name":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","trackName":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","artistName":"1999 WRITE THE FUTURE","albumName":"hella (˃̣̣̥╭╮˂̣̣̥) ✧ ♡ ‧º·˚","duration":145.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\nYeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\nPheromones are back, been gone too many winters\nCourthouses full of people pointin' fingers\nLittle did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\nKillin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\nLil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\nI speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\nYou might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\nAyy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\nI fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\nYeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\nYou ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\nThey movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\nThat fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n(You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\nRicky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\nHuh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\nTop-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\nWhite tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\nI run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\nRich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\nLaid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\nRoscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\nCheck this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\nDouble M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\nI been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\nSouth Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\nAnd she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\nDark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.40] You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n[00:14.27] Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n[00:18.37] Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n[00:20.15] Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n[00:21.42] Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n[00:24.77] Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n[00:28.31] Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n[00:32.22] I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n[00:33.55] You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n[00:36.85] Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n[00:39.61] I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n[00:43.25] Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n[00:47.98] You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n[00:50.24] They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n[00:53.27] That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n[01:00.56] (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n[01:05.39] Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n[01:09.22] Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n[01:12.57] Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n[01:15.98] White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n[01:19.36] I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n[01:22.96] Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n[01:26.71] Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n[01:30.17] Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n[01:33.93] Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n[01:37.51] Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n[01:41.17] I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n[01:44.86] South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n[01:48.62] And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n[01:52.01] Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n[01:57.95] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:01.72] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:05.48] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:08.91] (La-la-la-la)\n[02:12.56] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:16.19] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:20.09] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:22.37] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚\n  artist: 1999 WRITE THE FUTURE\n  album: hella (˃̣̣̥╭╮˂̣̣̥) ✧ ♡ ‧º·˚\n  duration_ms: 145000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n  start_ms: 11400\n  end_ms: 14270\n- text: Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  start_ms: 14270\n  end_ms: 18370\n- text: Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  start_ms: 18370\n  end_ms: 20150\n- text: Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  start_ms: 20150\n  end_ms: 21420\n- text: Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n  start_ms: 21420\n  end_ms: 24770\n- text: Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  start_ms: 24770\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 32220\n- text: I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  start_ms: 32220\n  end_ms: 33550\n- text: You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n  start_ms: 33550\n  end_ms: 36850\n- text: Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  start_ms: 36850\n  end_ms: 39610\n- text: I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  start_ms: 39610\n  end_ms: 43250\n- text: Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  start_ms: 43250\n  end_ms: 47980\n- text: You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  start_ms: 47980\n  end_ms: 50240\n- text: They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  start_ms: 50240\n  end_ms: 53270\n- text: That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n  start_ms: 53270\n  end_ms: 60560\n- text: (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  start_ms: 60560\n  end_ms: 65390\n- text: Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  start_ms: 65390\n  end_ms: 69220\n- text: Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n  start_ms: 69220\n  end_ms: 72570\n- text: Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  start_ms: 72570\n  end_ms: 75980\n- text: White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  start_ms: 75980\n  end_ms: 79360\n- text: I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  start_ms: 79360\n  end_ms: 82960\n- text: Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n  start_ms: 82960\n  end_ms: 86710\n- text: Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  start_ms: 86710\n  end_ms: 90170\n- text: Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  start_ms: 90170\n  end_ms: 93930\n- text: Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  start_ms: 93930\n  end_ms: 97510\n- text: Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n  start_ms: 97510\n  end_ms: 101170\n- text: I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  start_ms: 101170\n  end_ms: 104860\n- text: South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  start_ms: 104860\n  end_ms: 108620\n- text: And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  start_ms: 108620\n  end_ms: 112010\n- text: Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n  start_ms: 112010\n  end_ms: 117950\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 117950\n  end_ms: 121720\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 121720\n  end_ms: 125480\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 125480\n  end_ms: 128910\n- text: (La-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 128910\n  end_ms: 132560\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 132560\n  end_ms: 136190\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 136190\n  end_ms: 140090\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 140090\n  end_ms: 142370\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 142370\nplain: |-\n  You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\n  Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\n  Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\n  Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n  (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\n  Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\n  Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\n  I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n"},{"id":6909927,"name":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","trackName":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","artistName":"1999 WRITE THE FUTURE, Rick Ross & Rich Brian","albumName":"hella (˃̣̣̥╭╮˂̣̣̥) ✧ ♡ ‧º·˚","duration":145.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\nYeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\nPheromones are back, been gone too many winters\nCourthouses full of people pointin' fingers\nLittle did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\nKillin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\nLil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\nI speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\nYou might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\nAyy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\nI fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\nYeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\nYou ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\nThey movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\nThat fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n(You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\nRicky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\nHuh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\nTop-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\nWhite tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\nI run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\nRich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\nLaid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\nRoscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\nCheck this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\nDouble M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\nI been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\nSouth Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\nAnd she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\nDark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.40] You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n[00:14.27] Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n[00:18.37] Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n[00:20.15] Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n[00:21.42] Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n[00:24.77] Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n[00:28.31] Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n[00:32.22] I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n[00:33.55] You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n[00:36.85] Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n[00:39.61] I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n[00:43.25] Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n[00:47.98] You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n[00:50.24] They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n[00:53.27] That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n[01:00.56] (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n[01:05.39] Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n[01:09.22] Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n[01:12.57] Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n[01:15.98] White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n[01:19.36] I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n[01:22.96] Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n[01:26.71] Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n[01:30.17] Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n[01:33.93] Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n[01:37.51] Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n[01:41.17] I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n[01:44.86] South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n[01:48.62] And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n[01:52.01] Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n[01:57.95] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:01.72] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:05.48] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:08.91] (La-la-la-la)\n[02:12.56] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:16.19] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:20.09] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:22.37] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚\n  artist: 1999 WRITE THE FUTURE, Rick Ross & Rich Brian\n  album: hella (˃̣̣̥╭╮˂̣̣̥) ✧ ♡ ‧º·˚\n  duration_ms: 145000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n  start_ms: 11400\n  end_ms: 14270\n- text: Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  start_ms: 14270\n  end_ms: 18370\n- text: Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  start_ms: 18370\n  end_ms: 20150\n- text: Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  start_ms: 20150\n  end_ms: 21420\n- text: Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n  start_ms: 21420\n  end_ms: 24770\n- text: Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  start_ms: 24770\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 32220\n- text: I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  start_ms: 32220\n  end_ms: 33550\n- text: You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n  start_ms: 33550\n  end_ms: 36850\n- text: Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  start_ms: 36850\n  end_ms: 39610\n- text: I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  start_ms: 39610\n  end_ms: 43250\n- text: Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  start_ms: 43250\n  end_ms: 47980\n- text: You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  start_ms: 47980\n  end_ms: 50240\n- text: They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  start_ms: 50240\n  end_ms: 53270\n- text: That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n  start_ms: 53270\n  end_ms: 60560\n- text: (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  start_ms: 60560\n  end_ms: 65390\n- text: Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  start_ms: 65390\n  end_ms: 69220\n- text: Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n  start_ms: 69220\n  end_ms: 72570\n- text: Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  start_ms: 72570\n  end_ms: 75980\n- text: White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  start_ms: 75980\n  end_ms: 79360\n- text: I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  start_ms: 79360\n  end_ms: 82960\n- text: Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n  start_ms: 82960\n  end_ms: 86710\n- text: Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  start_ms: 86710\n  end_ms: 90170\n- text: Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  start_ms: 90170\n  end_ms: 93930\n- text: Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  start_ms: 93930\n  end_ms: 97510\n- text: Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n  start_ms: 97510\n  end_ms: 101170\n- text: I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  start_ms: 101170\n  end_ms: 104860\n- text: South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  start_ms: 104860\n  end_ms: 108620\n- text: And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  start_ms: 108620\n  end_ms: 112010\n- text: Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n  start_ms: 112010\n  end_ms: 117950\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 117950\n  end_ms: 121720\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 121720\n  end_ms: 125480\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 125480\n  end_ms: 128910\n- text: (La-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 128910\n  end_ms: 132560\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 132560\n  end_ms: 136190\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 136190\n  end_ms: 140090\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 140090\n  end_ms: 142370\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 142370\nplain: |-\n  You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\n  Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\n  Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\n  Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n  (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\n  Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\n  Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\n  I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n"},{"id":16787256,"name":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","trackName":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚","artistName":"1999 WRITE THE FUTURE; Rich Brian; Rick Ross","albumName":"hella (˃̣̣̥╭╮˂̣̣̥) ✧ ♡ ‧º·˚","duration":145.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\nYeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\nPheromones are back, been gone too many winters\nCourthouses full of people pointin' fingers\nLittle did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\nKillin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\nLil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\nI speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\nYou might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\nAyy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\nI fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\nYeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\nYou ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\nThey movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\nThat fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n(You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\nRicky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\nHuh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\nTop-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\nWhite tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\nI run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\nRich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\nLaid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\nRoscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\nCheck this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\nDouble M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\nI been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\nSouth Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\nAnd she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\nDark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.40] You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n[00:14.27] Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n[00:18.37] Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n[00:20.15] Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n[00:21.42] Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n[00:24.77] Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n[00:28.31] Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n[00:32.22] I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n[00:33.55] You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n[00:36.85] Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n[00:39.61] I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n[00:43.25] Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n[00:47.98] You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n[00:50.24] They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n[00:53.27] That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n[01:00.56] (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n[01:05.39] Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n[01:09.22] Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n[01:12.57] Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n[01:15.98] White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n[01:19.36] I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n[01:22.96] Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n[01:26.71] Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n[01:30.17] Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n[01:33.93] Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n[01:37.51] Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n[01:41.17] I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n[01:44.86] South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n[01:48.62] And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n[01:52.01] Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n[01:57.95] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:01.72] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:05.48] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:08.91] (La-la-la-la)\n[02:12.56] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:16.19] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:20.09] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:22.37] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚\n  artist: 1999 WRITE THE FUTURE; Rich Brian; Rick Ross\n  album: hella (˃̣̣̥╭╮˂̣̣̥) ✧ ♡ ‧º·˚\n  duration_ms: 145000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n  start_ms: 11400\n  end_ms: 14270\n- text: Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  start_ms: 14270\n  end_ms: 18370\n- text: Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  start_ms: 18370\n  end_ms: 20150\n- text: Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  start_ms: 20150\n  end_ms: 21420\n- text: Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n  start_ms: 21420\n  end_ms: 24770\n- text: Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  start_ms: 24770\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 32220\n- text: I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  start_ms: 32220\n  end_ms: 33550\n- text: You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n  start_ms: 33550\n  end_ms: 36850\n- text: Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  start_ms: 36850\n  end_ms: 39610\n- text: I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  start_ms: 39610\n  end_ms: 43250\n- text: Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  start_ms: 43250\n  end_ms: 47980\n- text: You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  start_ms: 47980\n  end_ms: 50240\n- text: They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  start_ms: 50240\n  end_ms: 53270\n- text: That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n  start_ms: 53270\n  end_ms: 60560\n- text: (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  start_ms: 60560\n  end_ms: 65390\n- text: Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  start_ms: 65390\n  end_ms: 69220\n- text: Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n  start_ms: 69220\n  end_ms: 72570\n- text: Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  start_ms: 72570\n  end_ms: 75980\n- text: White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  start_ms: 75980\n  end_ms: 79360\n- text: I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  start_ms: 79360\n  end_ms: 82960\n- text: Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n  start_ms: 82960\n  end_ms: 86710\n- text: Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  start_ms: 86710\n  end_ms: 90170\n- text: Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  start_ms: 90170\n  end_ms: 93930\n- text: Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  start_ms: 93930\n  end_ms: 97510\n- text: Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n  start_ms: 97510\n  end_ms: 101170\n- text: I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  start_ms: 101170\n  end_ms: 104860\n- text: South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  start_ms: 104860\n  end_ms: 108620\n- text: And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  start_ms: 108620\n  end_ms: 112010\n- text: Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n  start_ms: 112010\n  end_ms: 117950\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 117950\n  end_ms: 121720\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 121720\n  end_ms: 125480\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 125480\n  end_ms: 128910\n- text: (La-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 128910\n  end_ms: 132560\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 132560\n  end_ms: 136190\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 136190\n  end_ms: 140090\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 140090\n  end_ms: 142370\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 142370\nplain: |-\n  You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\n  Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\n  Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\n  Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n  (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\n  Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\n  Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\n  I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n"},{"id":34670432,"name":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ft. Rick Ross, Rich Brian","trackName":"LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ft. Rick Ross, Rich Brian","artistName":"1999 WRITE THE FUTURE","albumName":"hella (˃̣̣̥╭╮˂̣̣̥) ✧ ♡ ‧º·˚","duration":145.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\nYeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\nPheromones are back, been gone too many winters\nCourthouses full of people pointin' fingers\nLittle did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\nKillin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\nLil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\nI speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\nYou might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\nAyy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\nI fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\nYeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\nYou ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\nThey movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\nThat fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n(You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\nRicky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\nHuh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\nTop-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\nWhite tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\nI run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\nRich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\nLaid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\nRoscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\nCheck this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\nDouble M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\nI been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\nSouth Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\nAnd she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\nDark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.37] You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n[00:14.28] Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n[00:18.37] Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n[00:20.13] Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n[00:21.42] Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n[00:24.75] Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n[00:28.34] Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n[00:32.28] I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n[00:33.56] You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n[00:36.90] Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n[00:39.62] I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n[00:43.28] Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n[00:47.94] You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n[00:50.29] They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n[00:53.26] That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n[01:00.53] (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n[01:05.37] Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n[01:09.27] Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n[01:12.56] Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n[01:15.97] White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n[01:19.37] I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n[01:22.95] Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n[01:26.77] Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n[01:30.12] Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n[01:33.99] Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n[01:37.54] Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n[01:41.15] I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n[01:44.85] South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n[01:48.68] And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n[01:52.04] Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n[01:57.92] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:01.75] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:05.41] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:08.98] (La-la-la-la)\n[02:12.57] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:16.13] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:20.03] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:22.32] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ft. Rick Ross, Rich Brian\n  artist: 1999 WRITE THE FUTURE\n  album: hella (˃̣̣̥╭╮˂̣̣̥) ✧ ♡ ‧º·˚\n  duration_ms: 145000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n  start_ms: 11370\n  end_ms: 14280\n- text: Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  start_ms: 14280\n  end_ms: 18370\n- text: Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  start_ms: 18370\n  end_ms: 20130\n- text: Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  start_ms: 20130\n  end_ms: 21420\n- text: Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n  start_ms: 21420\n  end_ms: 24750\n- text: Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  start_ms: 24750\n  end_ms: 28340\n- text: Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  start_ms: 28340\n  end_ms: 32280\n- text: I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  start_ms: 32280\n  end_ms: 33560\n- text: You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n  start_ms: 33560\n  end_ms: 36900\n- text: Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  start_ms: 36900\n  end_ms: 39620\n- text: I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  start_ms: 39620\n  end_ms: 43280\n- text: Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  start_ms: 43280\n  end_ms: 47940\n- text: You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  start_ms: 47940\n  end_ms: 50290\n- text: They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  start_ms: 50290\n  end_ms: 53260\n- text: That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n  start_ms: 53260\n  end_ms: 60530\n- text: (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  start_ms: 60530\n  end_ms: 65370\n- text: Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  start_ms: 65370\n  end_ms: 69270\n- text: Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n  start_ms: 69270\n  end_ms: 72560\n- text: Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  start_ms: 72560\n  end_ms: 75970\n- text: White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  start_ms: 75970\n  end_ms: 79370\n- text: I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  start_ms: 79370\n  end_ms: 82950\n- text: Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n  start_ms: 82950\n  end_ms: 86770\n- text: Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  start_ms: 86770\n  end_ms: 90120\n- text: Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  start_ms: 90120\n  end_ms: 93990\n- text: Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  start_ms: 93990\n  end_ms: 97540\n- text: Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n  start_ms: 97540\n  end_ms: 101150\n- text: I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  start_ms: 101150\n  end_ms: 104850\n- text: South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  start_ms: 104850\n  end_ms: 108680\n- text: And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  start_ms: 108680\n  end_ms: 112040\n- text: Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n  start_ms: 112040\n  end_ms: 117920\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 117920\n  end_ms: 121750\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 121750\n  end_ms: 125410\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 125410\n  end_ms: 128980\n- text: (La-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 128980\n  end_ms: 132570\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 132570\n  end_ms: 136130\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 136130\n  end_ms: 140030\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 140030\n  end_ms: 142320\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 142320\nplain: |-\n  You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\n  Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\n  Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\n  Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n  (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\n  Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\n  Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\n  I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n"},{"id":12482900,"name":"1999 WRITE THE FUTURE, Rick Ross, Rich Brian - LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ ✩‧₊˚ (NBA 2K24)","trackName":"1999 WRITE THE FUTURE, Rick Ross, Rich Brian - LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ ✩‧₊˚ (NBA 2K24)","artistName":"SoundRoad","albumName":"SoundRoad Videos","duration":146.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\nYeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\nPheromones are back, been gone too many winters\nCourthouses full of people pointin' fingers\nLittle did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\nKillin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\nLil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\nI speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\nYou might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\nAyy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\nI fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\nYeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\nYou ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\nThey movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\nThat fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n(You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\nRicky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\nHuh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\nTop-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\nWhite tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\nI run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\nRich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\nLaid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\nRoscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\nCheck this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\nDouble M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\nI been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\nSouth Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\nAnd she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\nDark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la)\n\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n(La-la-la-la-la-la-la)","syncedLyrics":"[00:11.40] You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n[00:14.27] Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n[00:18.37] Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n[00:20.15] Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n[00:21.42] Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n[00:24.77] Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n[00:28.31] Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n[00:32.22] I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n[00:33.55] You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n[00:36.85] Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n[00:39.61] I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n[00:43.25] Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n[00:47.98] You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n[00:50.24] They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n[00:53.27] That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n[01:00.56] (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n[01:05.39] Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n[01:09.22] Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n[01:12.57] Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n[01:15.98] White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n[01:19.36] I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n[01:22.96] Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n[01:26.71] Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n[01:30.17] Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n[01:33.93] Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n[01:37.51] Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n[01:41.17] I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n[01:44.86] South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n[01:48.62] And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n[01:52.01] Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n[01:57.95] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:01.72] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:05.48] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:08.91] (La-la-la-la)\n[02:12.56] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:16.19] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:20.09] (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n[02:22.37] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 1999 WRITE THE FUTURE, Rick Ross, Rich Brian - LiGhT rAiLs *ੈ ✩‧₊˚ (NBA 2K24)\n  artist: SoundRoad\n  album: SoundRoad Videos\n  duration_ms: 146000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n  start_ms: 11400\n  end_ms: 14270\n- text: Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  start_ms: 14270\n  end_ms: 18370\n- text: Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  start_ms: 18370\n  end_ms: 20150\n- text: Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  start_ms: 20150\n  end_ms: 21420\n- text: Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n  start_ms: 21420\n  end_ms: 24770\n- text: Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  start_ms: 24770\n  end_ms: 28310\n- text: Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  start_ms: 28310\n  end_ms: 32220\n- text: I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  start_ms: 32220\n  end_ms: 33550\n- text: You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n  start_ms: 33550\n  end_ms: 36850\n- text: Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  start_ms: 36850\n  end_ms: 39610\n- text: I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  start_ms: 39610\n  end_ms: 43250\n- text: Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  start_ms: 43250\n  end_ms: 47980\n- text: You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  start_ms: 47980\n  end_ms: 50240\n- text: They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  start_ms: 50240\n  end_ms: 53270\n- text: That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n  start_ms: 53270\n  end_ms: 60560\n- text: (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  start_ms: 60560\n  end_ms: 65390\n- text: Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  start_ms: 65390\n  end_ms: 69220\n- text: Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n  start_ms: 69220\n  end_ms: 72570\n- text: Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  start_ms: 72570\n  end_ms: 75980\n- text: White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  start_ms: 75980\n  end_ms: 79360\n- text: I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  start_ms: 79360\n  end_ms: 82960\n- text: Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n  start_ms: 82960\n  end_ms: 86710\n- text: Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  start_ms: 86710\n  end_ms: 90170\n- text: Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  start_ms: 90170\n  end_ms: 93930\n- text: Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  start_ms: 93930\n  end_ms: 97510\n- text: Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n  start_ms: 97510\n  end_ms: 101170\n- text: I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  start_ms: 101170\n  end_ms: 104860\n- text: South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  start_ms: 104860\n  end_ms: 108620\n- text: And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  start_ms: 108620\n  end_ms: 112010\n- text: Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n  start_ms: 112010\n  end_ms: 117950\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 117950\n  end_ms: 121720\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 121720\n  end_ms: 125480\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 125480\n  end_ms: 128910\n- text: (La-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 128910\n  end_ms: 132560\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 132560\n  end_ms: 136190\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 136190\n  end_ms: 140090\n- text: (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  start_ms: 140090\n  end_ms: 142370\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 142370\nplain: |-\n  You're now listenin' to 1999, keep it lo-fi\n\n  Yeah, ayy, apparently they try to get him out the picture\n  Pheromones are back, been gone too many winters\n  Courthouses full of people pointin' fingers\n  Little did they know it's gon' take more than that to bury me\n\n  Killin' Bills, feelin' like I'm Tarantin', we against defeat, that's not our fantasy\n  Lil' hoe, ayy, yeah, aw, ayy, bottles on bottles, I'm talkin' Le Labo\n  I speak to the mic and the paper gon' follow\n  You might've misheard me if you think I'm lettin' you fuck with the (fuck with the)\n\n  Ayy, fuck with the journey, if anything, I'm puttin' you on a jersey\n  I fucked with a freak from Berlin, she a 9 outta 10, but I'd prolly not do it again\n  Yeah, I hate fallin' out with a bitch, ayy, I hate pillow-talkin' to bitches\n  You ridin' this dick, but you don't have no interests (ayy, ayy, ayy)\n  They movin' like ramen noodles way the heat turnin' all of 'em soft in an instant (yeah)\n  That fame was my bitch for a sec, but I'm over her now we maintainin' a distance, uh\n\n  (You have arrived at Cupertino Station, doors are openin')\n  Ricky Ravioli, that's the biggest boss, baby (the biggest, baby)\n  Huh, yes (let's go, ayy)\n\n  Top-down, my smoke thick (huh), free throws, I don't miss (huh)\n  White tees, my hat back, my bitch bad, I love this\n  I run past that fuck shit, that small talk, some fuck shit\n  Rich nigga my forecast, anything else is suspect (boss)\n\n  Laid back, let's roll up (boss), smoke good, my nose up (boss)\n  Roscoe's I'm iced out (huh), them niggas know my polar (woo)\n  Check this out, so hol' up, Jada Pinkett, done sold dust (hol' up)\n  Double M, we on one, right back with the Cold Crush\n\n  I been rich, do research (run it), top-down, on three perks (run it)\n  South Beach, I moonlight (ah, ah, ah), niggas know what I mood like\n  And she know what my mood like, Luc Belaire, it's a smooth night (woo)\n  Dark room, I'm iced out (iced out), sunrise, it's lights out (biggest, Maybach Music)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la)\n\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n  (La-la-la-la-la-la-la)\n"}]