[{"id":12589581,"name":"13. 8Ball & MJG - Throw Your Hands Up (feat. OutKast)","trackName":"13. 8Ball & MJG - Throw Your Hands Up (feat. OutKast)","artistName":"8ball & Mjg","albumName":"In Our Lifetime","duration":325.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time\nSo I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\nKeep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\nMy player ways keep me with plenty dimes\nSee I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\nWhen a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z\nAll night on the block 'til the sun rise\nMy only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\nFour, five in the mornin', it don't stop\nDaydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop top (woop)\nBlue lights snap me back to reality\nI hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\nTricks ain't got shit to do but harass\nSearched a nigga and took about a three in cash\nI guess that's better than gettin locked up\nOr gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\n\nNow I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\nAfros and loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuein' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\nI got a maid cooking grits with a, outfit\nSo tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\nDice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\nNigga drunk singin' sounding like the Bee Gees\nHam sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\nNaked women in the den playing, hop scotch\nThirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\nSo hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\nI be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\nGot some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\nMet a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\nIf I diss her it'll take a nigga, ten lines\nMJG standing tall and I, won't fold\nYou can have all the bitches, 'cause I, don't hold\nOn to any woman like a human handcuff\nYou got ya hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n\nNow I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\nAfros and loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuein' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\nHow many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\nStickin' out just like an OUTKAST or a thorn from stem of rose\nLike nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin' when y'all bite\nBeen had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\nY'all just might see the skunk guy, with a girl who chunked thighed\nBelow the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\nFrom Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\nThe deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\nNo laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\nThe Space Age is pimpin this, players comin' major\nThey shot the sucka, sprayed ya, cut ya wife and played her\nThe player the B-I-G B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\nBeats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\nAnd if you hate the Dirty, then patna, see we don't need you\nYou know I'm talkin 'bout?\nOutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n\nNow I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\nAfros and loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuein' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\nYou wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\nIt's like the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get\nThe closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\nApart, distant\nNobody has the upper hand but my body's resistant\nSo now, throw your phalanges in the ground\nI'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\nI found negative niggas they only keep ya down\nTransmitting from Native American burial ground\nI carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads\nI'm post to blast, space invaders up somebody's dad\nSerious as Aa-Bb-Cc\nIf knowledge be the key then buddy roasted on the porch\nAnd wait for ya momma to get off work so she can roast yo' ass\nThey need to find an open window fast\nWord to the motherfucker; word to the motherfucker\nWord to the motherfucker!\n\nNow I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\nAfros and loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuein' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up","syncedLyrics":"[00:18.83] Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\n[00:20.98] So, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\n[00:23.21] Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n[00:25.94] My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\n[00:28.32] See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\n[00:30.91] When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\n[00:33.46] All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\n[00:35.86] My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\n[00:38.15] Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n[00:40.51] Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n[00:42.67] (Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\n[00:45.22] I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n[00:47.89] Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n[00:50.33] Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n[00:52.62] I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\n[00:54.87] Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n[00:57.89] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[01:00.60] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[01:03.41] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[01:05.52] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[01:07.92] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[01:10.60] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[01:13.09] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[01:15.46] Money from the first of the month card!\n[01:17.86] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[01:20.14] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[01:22.31] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[01:24.77] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[01:27.21] I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\n[01:30.32] My niggas wanna stay the whole night\n[01:32.24] Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n[01:34.64] Nigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\n[01:36.71] Ham sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\n[01:39.65] Naked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\n[01:41.68] Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\n[01:44.13] So, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\n[01:46.66] I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\n[01:49.15] Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n[01:51.59] Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\n[01:53.82] If I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\n[01:56.26] MJG standing tall, and I won't fold\n[01:58.87] You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\n[02:01.35] Onto any woman like a human handcuff\n[02:04.06] You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n[02:06.20] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[02:08.87] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[02:11.33] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[02:13.70] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[02:16.07] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[02:18.45] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[02:21.02] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[02:23.41] Money from the first of the month card!\n[02:25.95] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[02:28.21] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[02:29.57] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[02:32.31] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[02:34.77] How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n[02:37.88] Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\n[02:40.59] Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy\n[02:42.07] Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\n[02:43.10] Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\n[02:45.33] Y'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\n[02:48.01] Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n[02:50.41] From Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n[02:52.88] The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n[02:55.20] No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n[02:57.75] The Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\n[03:00.15] It shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\n[03:02.75] The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n[03:05.05] Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n[03:07.68] And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\n[03:10.22] You know, I'm talkin 'bout?\n[03:11.72] OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n[03:14.63] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[03:16.88] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[03:19.33] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[03:21.70] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[03:24.12] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[03:26.63] Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes\n[03:29.18] People barbecuin' in the front yard\n[03:31.67] Money from the first of the month card!\n[03:34.15] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[03:35.89] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[03:38.03] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[03:40.57] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[03:43.36] You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\n[03:45.55] It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\n[03:48.13] The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\n[03:50.25] Apart, distant (Yeah)\n[03:50.74] Nobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\n[03:53.70] So now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\n[03:56.16] I'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\n[03:58.07] I've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\n[04:00.31] Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\n[04:02.98] I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\n[04:06.05] I'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\n[04:08.21] Serious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\n[04:10.53] If knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\n[04:13.41] And wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\n[04:16.47] In need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n[04:18.49] (Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n[04:22.30] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[04:24.89] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[04:27.52] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[04:29.93] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[04:32.58] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[04:34.65] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[04:37.25] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[04:39.60] Money from the first of the month card!\n[04:41.89] If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n[04:44.02] If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n[04:46.68] If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n[04:49.15] If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n[05:25.22] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 13. 8Ball & MJG - Throw Your Hands Up (feat. OutKast)\n  artist: 8ball & Mjg\n  album: In Our Lifetime\n  duration_ms: 325000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\n  start_ms: 18830\n  end_ms: 20980\n- text: So, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\n  start_ms: 20980\n  end_ms: 23210\n- text: Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  start_ms: 23210\n  end_ms: 25940\n- text: My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\n  start_ms: 25940\n  end_ms: 28320\n- text: See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 28320\n  end_ms: 30910\n- text: When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 30910\n  end_ms: 33460\n- text: All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 33460\n  end_ms: 35860\n- text: My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\n  start_ms: 35860\n  end_ms: 38150\n- text: Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n  start_ms: 38150\n  end_ms: 40510\n- text: Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n  start_ms: 40510\n  end_ms: 42670\n- text: (Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 42670\n  end_ms: 45220\n- text: I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  start_ms: 45220\n  end_ms: 47890\n- text: Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  start_ms: 47890\n  end_ms: 50330\n- text: Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n  start_ms: 50330\n  end_ms: 52620\n- text: I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\n  start_ms: 52620\n  end_ms: 54870\n- text: Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n  start_ms: 54870\n  end_ms: 57890\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 57890\n  end_ms: 60600\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 60600\n  end_ms: 63410\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 63410\n  end_ms: 65520\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 65520\n  end_ms: 67920\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 67920\n  end_ms: 70600\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 70600\n  end_ms: 73090\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 73090\n  end_ms: 75460\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 75460\n  end_ms: 77860\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 77860\n  end_ms: 80140\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 80140\n  end_ms: 82310\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 82310\n  end_ms: 84770\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 84770\n  end_ms: 87210\n- text: I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\n  start_ms: 87210\n  end_ms: 90320\n- text: My niggas wanna stay the whole night\n  start_ms: 90320\n  end_ms: 92240\n- text: Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  start_ms: 92240\n  end_ms: 94640\n- text: Nigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\n  start_ms: 94640\n  end_ms: 96710\n- text: Ham sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\n  start_ms: 96710\n  end_ms: 99650\n- text: Naked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\n  start_ms: 99650\n  end_ms: 101680\n- text: Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\n  start_ms: 101680\n  end_ms: 104130\n- text: So, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\n  start_ms: 104130\n  end_ms: 106660\n- text: I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\n  start_ms: 106660\n  end_ms: 109150\n- text: Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n  start_ms: 109150\n  end_ms: 111590\n- text: Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\n  start_ms: 111590\n  end_ms: 113820\n- text: If I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\n  start_ms: 113820\n  end_ms: 116260\n- text: MJG standing tall, and I won't fold\n  start_ms: 116260\n  end_ms: 118870\n- text: You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\n  start_ms: 118870\n  end_ms: 121350\n- text: Onto any woman like a human handcuff\n  start_ms: 121350\n  end_ms: 124060\n- text: You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n  start_ms: 124060\n  end_ms: 126200\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 126200\n  end_ms: 128870\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 128870\n  end_ms: 131330\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 131330\n  end_ms: 133700\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 133700\n  end_ms: 136070\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 136070\n  end_ms: 138450\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 138450\n  end_ms: 141020\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 141020\n  end_ms: 143410\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 143410\n  end_ms: 145950\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 145950\n  end_ms: 148210\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 148210\n  end_ms: 149570\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 149570\n  end_ms: 152310\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 152310\n  end_ms: 154770\n- text: How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n  start_ms: 154770\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 160590\n- text: Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy\n  start_ms: 160590\n  end_ms: 162070\n- text: Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\n  start_ms: 162070\n  end_ms: 163100\n- text: Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\n  start_ms: 163100\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: Y'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 168010\n- text: Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 168010\n  end_ms: 170410\n- text: From Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  start_ms: 170410\n  end_ms: 172880\n- text: The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n  start_ms: 172880\n  end_ms: 175200\n- text: No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  start_ms: 175200\n  end_ms: 177750\n- text: The Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\n  start_ms: 177750\n  end_ms: 180150\n- text: It shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\n  start_ms: 180150\n  end_ms: 182750\n- text: The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  start_ms: 182750\n  end_ms: 185050\n- text: Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n  start_ms: 185050\n  end_ms: 187680\n- text: And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\n  start_ms: 187680\n  end_ms: 190220\n- text: You know, I'm talkin 'bout?\n  start_ms: 190220\n  end_ms: 191720\n- text: OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n  start_ms: 191720\n  end_ms: 194630\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 194630\n  end_ms: 196880\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 196880\n  end_ms: 199330\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 199330\n  end_ms: 201700\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 201700\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 206630\n- text: Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 206630\n  end_ms: 209180\n- text: People barbecuin' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 209180\n  end_ms: 211670\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 211670\n  end_ms: 214150\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 214150\n  end_ms: 215890\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 215890\n  end_ms: 218030\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 218030\n  end_ms: 220570\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 220570\n  end_ms: 223360\n- text: You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\n  start_ms: 223360\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 228130\n- text: The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\n  start_ms: 228130\n  end_ms: 230250\n- text: Apart, distant (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 230250\n  end_ms: 230740\n- text: Nobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\n  start_ms: 230740\n  end_ms: 233700\n- text: So now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\n  start_ms: 233700\n  end_ms: 236160\n- text: I'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\n  start_ms: 236160\n  end_ms: 238070\n- text: I've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\n  start_ms: 238070\n  end_ms: 240310\n- text: Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 240310\n  end_ms: 242980\n- text: I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 242980\n  end_ms: 246050\n- text: I'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\n  start_ms: 246050\n  end_ms: 248210\n- text: Serious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\n  start_ms: 248210\n  end_ms: 250530\n- text: If knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\n  start_ms: 250530\n  end_ms: 253410\n- text: And wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\n  start_ms: 253410\n  end_ms: 256470\n- text: In need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n  start_ms: 256470\n  end_ms: 258490\n- text: (Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n  start_ms: 258490\n  end_ms: 262300\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 262300\n  end_ms: 264890\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 264890\n  end_ms: 267520\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 267520\n  end_ms: 269930\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 269930\n  end_ms: 272580\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 272580\n  end_ms: 274650\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 274650\n  end_ms: 277250\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 277250\n  end_ms: 279600\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 279600\n  end_ms: 281890\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 281890\n  end_ms: 284020\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 284020\n  end_ms: 286680\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 286680\n  end_ms: 289150\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 289150\n  end_ms: 325220\nplain: |-\n  Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time\n  So I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\n  Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  My player ways keep me with plenty dimes\n  See I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\n  When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z\n  All night on the block 'til the sun rise\n  My only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\n  Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n  Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop top (woop)\n  Blue lights snap me back to reality\n  I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n  I guess that's better than gettin locked up\n  Or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\n\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\n  I got a maid cooking grits with a, outfit\n  So tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\n  Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  Nigga drunk singin' sounding like the Bee Gees\n  Ham sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\n  Naked women in the den playing, hop scotch\n  Thirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\n  So hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\n  I be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\n  Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n  Met a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\n  If I diss her it'll take a nigga, ten lines\n  MJG standing tall and I, won't fold\n  You can have all the bitches, 'cause I, don't hold\n  On to any woman like a human handcuff\n  You got ya hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\n  How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n  Stickin' out just like an OUTKAST or a thorn from stem of rose\n  Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin' when y'all bite\n  Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\n  Y'all just might see the skunk guy, with a girl who chunked thighed\n  Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n  From Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n  No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  The Space Age is pimpin this, players comin' major\n  They shot the sucka, sprayed ya, cut ya wife and played her\n  The player the B-I-G B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n  And if you hate the Dirty, then patna, see we don't need you\n  You know I'm talkin 'bout?\n  OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\n  You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\n  It's like the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get\n  The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\n  Apart, distant\n  Nobody has the upper hand but my body's resistant\n  So now, throw your phalanges in the ground\n  I'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\n  I found negative niggas they only keep ya down\n  Transmitting from Native American burial ground\n  I carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads\n  I'm post to blast, space invaders up somebody's dad\n  Serious as Aa-Bb-Cc\n  If knowledge be the key then buddy roasted on the porch\n  And wait for ya momma to get off work so she can roast yo' ass\n  They need to find an open window fast\n  Word to the motherfucker; word to the motherfucker\n  Word to the motherfucker!\n\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n"},{"id":31056990,"name":"Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)","trackName":"Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)","artistName":"8Ball, MJG, Outkast","albumName":"We Are The South (Greatest Hits)","duration":325.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\nSo, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\nKeep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\nMy player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\nSee, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\nWhen a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\nAll night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\nMy only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\nFour, five in the mornin', it don't stop\nDaydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n(Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\nI hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\nTricks ain't got shit to do but harass\nSearched a nigga and took about a three in cash\nI guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\nOr gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n\nNow, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms, where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\nAfros and loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuein' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n\nI got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\nMy niggas wanna stay the whole night\nDice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\nNigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\nHam sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\nNaked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\nThirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\nSo, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\nI be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\nGot some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\nMet a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\nIf I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\nMJG standing tall, and I won't fold\nYou can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\nOnto any woman like a human handcuff\nYou got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n\nNow, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms, where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\nAfros and loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuein' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n\nHow many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\nStickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\nLike nachos, the lyrics are crispy\nCrackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\nBeen had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\nY'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\nBelow the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\nFrom Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\nThe deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\nNo laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\nThe Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\nIt shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\nThe player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\nBeats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\nAnd if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\nYou know, I'm talkin 'bout?\nOutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n\nNow, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms, where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\nAfros and loud-ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuin' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n\nYou wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\nIt's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\nThe closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\nApart, distant (Yeah)\nNobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\nSo now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\nI'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\nI've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\nTransmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\nI carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\nI'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\nSerious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\nIf knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\nAnd wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\nIn need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n(Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n\nNow, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms, where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\nAfros and loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuein' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up","syncedLyrics":"[00:18.80] Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\n[00:20.91] So, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\n[00:23.21] Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n[00:25.92] My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\n[00:28.32] See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\n[00:30.91] When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\n[00:33.40] All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\n[00:35.86] My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\n[00:38.17] Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n[00:40.54] Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n[00:42.62] (Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\n[00:45.27] I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n[00:47.81] Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n[00:50.33] Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n[00:52.65] I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\n[00:54.84] Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n[00:57.82] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[01:00.66] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[01:03.48] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[01:05.54] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[01:07.97] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[01:10.65] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[01:13.09] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[01:15.43] Money from the first of the month card!\n[01:17.86] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[01:20.17] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[01:22.36] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[01:24.76] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[01:27.20] I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\n[01:30.38] My niggas wanna stay the whole night\n[01:32.23] Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n[01:34.60] Nigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\n[01:36.78] Ham sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\n[01:39.66] Naked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\n[01:41.62] Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\n[01:44.10] So, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\n[01:46.65] I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\n[01:49.12] Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n[01:51.58] Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\n[01:53.81] If I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\n[01:56.27] MJG standing tall, and I won't fold\n[01:58.89] You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\n[02:01.30] Onto any woman like a human handcuff\n[02:04.08] You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n[02:06.21] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[02:08.84] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[02:11.31] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[02:13.71] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[02:16.08] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[02:18.40] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[02:21.06] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[02:23.45] Money from the first of the month card!\n[02:25.96] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[02:28.25] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[02:29.58] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[02:32.32] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[02:34.73] How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n[02:37.83] Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\n[02:40.59] Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy\n[02:42.04] Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\n[02:43.10] Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\n[02:45.33] Y'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\n[02:48.04] Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n[02:50.48] From Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n[02:52.87] The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n[02:55.25] No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n[02:57.70] The Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\n[03:00.14] It shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\n[03:02.77] The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n[03:05.06] Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n[03:07.66] And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\n[03:10.23] You know, I'm talkin 'bout?\n[03:11.76] OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n[03:14.64] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[03:16.81] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[03:19.36] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[03:21.78] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[03:24.12] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[03:26.69] Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes\n[03:29.15] People barbecuin' in the front yard\n[03:31.62] Money from the first of the month card!\n[03:34.13] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[03:35.82] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[03:38.07] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[03:40.59] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[03:43.30] You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\n[03:45.59] It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\n[03:48.13] The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\n[03:50.24] Apart, distant (Yeah)\n[03:50.78] Nobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\n[03:53.76] So now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\n[03:56.14] I'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\n[03:58.00] I've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\n[04:00.39] Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\n[04:02.92] I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\n[04:06.08] I'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\n[04:08.26] Serious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\n[04:10.52] If knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\n[04:13.41] And wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\n[04:16.03] In need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n[04:18.40] (Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n[04:22.28] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[04:24.85] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[04:27.55] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[04:29.91] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[04:32.55] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[04:34.60] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[04:37.28] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[04:39.67] Money from the first of the month card!\n[04:41.88] If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n[04:44.05] If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n[04:46.69] If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n[04:49.13] If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n[04:54.06] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)\n  artist: 8Ball, MJG, Outkast\n  album: We Are The South (Greatest Hits)\n  duration_ms: 325000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\n  start_ms: 18800\n  end_ms: 20910\n- text: So, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\n  start_ms: 20910\n  end_ms: 23210\n- text: Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  start_ms: 23210\n  end_ms: 25920\n- text: My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\n  start_ms: 25920\n  end_ms: 28320\n- text: See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 28320\n  end_ms: 30910\n- text: When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 30910\n  end_ms: 33400\n- text: All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 33400\n  end_ms: 35860\n- text: My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\n  start_ms: 35860\n  end_ms: 38170\n- text: Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n  start_ms: 38170\n  end_ms: 40540\n- text: Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n  start_ms: 40540\n  end_ms: 42620\n- text: (Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 42620\n  end_ms: 45270\n- text: I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  start_ms: 45270\n  end_ms: 47810\n- text: Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  start_ms: 47810\n  end_ms: 50330\n- text: Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n  start_ms: 50330\n  end_ms: 52650\n- text: I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\n  start_ms: 52650\n  end_ms: 54840\n- text: Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n  start_ms: 54840\n  end_ms: 57820\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 57820\n  end_ms: 60660\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 60660\n  end_ms: 63480\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 63480\n  end_ms: 65540\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 65540\n  end_ms: 67970\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 67970\n  end_ms: 70650\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 70650\n  end_ms: 73090\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 73090\n  end_ms: 75430\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 75430\n  end_ms: 77860\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 77860\n  end_ms: 80170\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 80170\n  end_ms: 82360\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 82360\n  end_ms: 84760\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 84760\n  end_ms: 87200\n- text: I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\n  start_ms: 87200\n  end_ms: 90380\n- text: My niggas wanna stay the whole night\n  start_ms: 90380\n  end_ms: 92230\n- text: Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  start_ms: 92230\n  end_ms: 94600\n- text: Nigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\n  start_ms: 94600\n  end_ms: 96780\n- text: Ham sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\n  start_ms: 96780\n  end_ms: 99660\n- text: Naked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\n  start_ms: 99660\n  end_ms: 101620\n- text: Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\n  start_ms: 101620\n  end_ms: 104100\n- text: So, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\n  start_ms: 104100\n  end_ms: 106650\n- text: I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\n  start_ms: 106650\n  end_ms: 109120\n- text: Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n  start_ms: 109120\n  end_ms: 111580\n- text: Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\n  start_ms: 111580\n  end_ms: 113810\n- text: If I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\n  start_ms: 113810\n  end_ms: 116270\n- text: MJG standing tall, and I won't fold\n  start_ms: 116270\n  end_ms: 118890\n- text: You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\n  start_ms: 118890\n  end_ms: 121300\n- text: Onto any woman like a human handcuff\n  start_ms: 121300\n  end_ms: 124080\n- text: You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n  start_ms: 124080\n  end_ms: 126210\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 126210\n  end_ms: 128840\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 128840\n  end_ms: 131310\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 131310\n  end_ms: 133710\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 133710\n  end_ms: 136080\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 136080\n  end_ms: 138400\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 138400\n  end_ms: 141060\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 141060\n  end_ms: 143450\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 143450\n  end_ms: 145960\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 145960\n  end_ms: 148250\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 148250\n  end_ms: 149580\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 149580\n  end_ms: 152320\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 152320\n  end_ms: 154730\n- text: How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n  start_ms: 154730\n  end_ms: 157830\n- text: Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\n  start_ms: 157830\n  end_ms: 160590\n- text: Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy\n  start_ms: 160590\n  end_ms: 162040\n- text: Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\n  start_ms: 162040\n  end_ms: 163100\n- text: Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\n  start_ms: 163100\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: Y'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 168040\n- text: Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 168040\n  end_ms: 170480\n- text: From Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  start_ms: 170480\n  end_ms: 172870\n- text: The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n  start_ms: 172870\n  end_ms: 175250\n- text: No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  start_ms: 175250\n  end_ms: 177700\n- text: The Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\n  start_ms: 177700\n  end_ms: 180140\n- text: It shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\n  start_ms: 180140\n  end_ms: 182770\n- text: The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  start_ms: 182770\n  end_ms: 185060\n- text: Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n  start_ms: 185060\n  end_ms: 187660\n- text: And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\n  start_ms: 187660\n  end_ms: 190230\n- text: You know, I'm talkin 'bout?\n  start_ms: 190230\n  end_ms: 191760\n- text: OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n  start_ms: 191760\n  end_ms: 194640\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 194640\n  end_ms: 196810\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 196810\n  end_ms: 199360\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 199360\n  end_ms: 201780\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 201780\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 206690\n- text: Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 206690\n  end_ms: 209150\n- text: People barbecuin' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 209150\n  end_ms: 211620\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 211620\n  end_ms: 214130\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 214130\n  end_ms: 215820\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 215820\n  end_ms: 218070\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 218070\n  end_ms: 220590\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 220590\n  end_ms: 223300\n- text: You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\n  start_ms: 223300\n  end_ms: 225590\n- text: It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\n  start_ms: 225590\n  end_ms: 228130\n- text: The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\n  start_ms: 228130\n  end_ms: 230240\n- text: Apart, distant (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 230240\n  end_ms: 230780\n- text: Nobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\n  start_ms: 230780\n  end_ms: 233760\n- text: So now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\n  start_ms: 233760\n  end_ms: 236140\n- text: I'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\n  start_ms: 236140\n  end_ms: 238000\n- text: I've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\n  start_ms: 238000\n  end_ms: 240390\n- text: Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 240390\n  end_ms: 242920\n- text: I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 242920\n  end_ms: 246080\n- text: I'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\n  start_ms: 246080\n  end_ms: 248260\n- text: Serious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\n  start_ms: 248260\n  end_ms: 250520\n- text: If knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\n  start_ms: 250520\n  end_ms: 253410\n- text: And wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\n  start_ms: 253410\n  end_ms: 256030\n- text: In need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n  start_ms: 256030\n  end_ms: 258400\n- text: (Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n  start_ms: 258400\n  end_ms: 262280\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 262280\n  end_ms: 264850\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 264850\n  end_ms: 267550\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 267550\n  end_ms: 269910\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 269910\n  end_ms: 272550\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 272550\n  end_ms: 274600\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 274600\n  end_ms: 277280\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 277280\n  end_ms: 279670\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 279670\n  end_ms: 281880\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 281880\n  end_ms: 284050\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 284050\n  end_ms: 286690\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 286690\n  end_ms: 289130\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 289130\n  end_ms: 294060\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 294060\nplain: |-\n  Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\n  So, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\n  Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\n  See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\n  When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\n  All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\n  My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\n  Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n  Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n  (Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\n  I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n  I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\n  Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n\n  Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n\n  I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\n  My niggas wanna stay the whole night\n  Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  Nigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\n  Ham sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\n  Naked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\n  Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\n  So, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\n  I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\n  Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n  Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\n  If I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\n  MJG standing tall, and I won't fold\n  You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\n  Onto any woman like a human handcuff\n  You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n\n  Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n\n  How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n  Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\n  Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy\n  Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\n  Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\n  Y'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\n  Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n  From Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n  No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  The Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\n  It shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\n  The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n  And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\n  You know, I'm talkin 'bout?\n  OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n\n  Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuin' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n\n  You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\n  It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\n  The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\n  Apart, distant (Yeah)\n  Nobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\n  So now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\n  I'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\n  I've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\n  Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\n  I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\n  I'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\n  Serious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\n  If knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\n  And wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\n  In need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n  (Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n\n  Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n"},{"id":2416412,"name":"Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)","trackName":"Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)","artistName":"8Ball & MJG","albumName":"In Our Lifetime, Vol. 1","duration":325.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\nKeep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\nMy player ways keep me with plenty dimes\nSee I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\nWhen a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z\nAll night on the block til the sun rise\nMy only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\nFour five in the mornin it don't stop\nDay dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)\nBlue lights snap me back to reality\nI hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\nTricks ain't got shit to do but harass\nSearch tha nigga and took about a three in cash\nI guess that's better than gettin locked up\nOr gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nI got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit\nSo tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\nDice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\nNigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees\nHam sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\nNaked women in tha den playing, hop scotch\nThirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\nSo hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\nI be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\nGot some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip\nMet a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\nIf I diss her it'll take a nigga ten lines\nMJG standing tall and I, won't fold\nYou can have all the bitches, cause I, don't hold\nOn to any woman like a human hand cuff\nYou got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nHow many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows\nStickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves\nLike nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y'all bite\nBeen had a coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\nY'all just might seem to skunk eyed, with a girl who chunked thighed\nBelow the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin about\nFrom Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\nThe deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I'm after\nNo laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\nThe Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major\nThey shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her\nThe player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker\nBeats by the layers, of music right here to please you\nBut if ain't that dirty then patna see we don't need you\nYou know I'm talkin bout\nOutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nYou wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\nIt's like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get\nThe closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\nApart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance\nSo now, throw your filangies in tha ground\nI'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\nI found negatives niggas they only keep ya down\nTransmitting from Native American burial grounds\nI carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads\nUm post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad\nSerious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then\nBuddy roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work\nSo she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast\nWord to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker\nWord to the motherfucker!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up","syncedLyrics":"[00:18.83] Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\n[00:20.98] So, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\n[00:23.21] Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n[00:25.94] My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\n[00:28.32] See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\n[00:30.91] When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\n[00:33.46] All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\n[00:35.86] My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\n[00:38.15] Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n[00:40.51] Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n[00:42.67] (Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\n[00:45.22] I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n[00:47.89] Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n[00:50.33] Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n[00:52.62] I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\n[00:54.87] Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n[00:57.89] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[01:00.60] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[01:03.41] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[01:05.52] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[01:07.92] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[01:10.60] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[01:13.09] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[01:15.46] Money from the first of the month card!\n[01:17.86] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[01:20.14] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[01:22.31] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[01:24.77] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[01:27.21] I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\n[01:30.32] My niggas wanna stay the whole night\n[01:32.24] Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n[01:34.64] Nigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\n[01:36.71] Ham sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\n[01:39.65] Naked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\n[01:41.68] Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\n[01:44.13] So, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\n[01:46.66] I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\n[01:49.15] Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n[01:51.59] Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\n[01:53.82] If I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\n[01:56.26] MJG standing tall, and I won't fold\n[01:58.87] You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\n[02:01.35] Onto any woman like a human handcuff\n[02:04.06] You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n[02:06.20] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[02:08.87] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[02:11.33] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[02:13.70] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[02:16.07] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[02:18.45] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[02:21.02] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[02:23.41] Money from the first of the month card!\n[02:25.95] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[02:28.21] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[02:29.57] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[02:32.31] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[02:34.77] How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n[02:37.88] Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\n[02:40.59] Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy\n[02:42.07] Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\n[02:43.10] Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\n[02:45.33] Y'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\n[02:48.01] Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n[02:50.41] From Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n[02:52.88] The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n[02:55.20] No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n[02:57.75] The Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\n[03:00.15] It shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\n[03:02.75] The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n[03:05.05] Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n[03:07.68] And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\n[03:10.22] You know, I'm talkin 'bout?\n[03:11.72] OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n[03:14.63] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[03:16.88] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[03:19.33] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[03:21.70] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[03:24.12] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[03:26.63] Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes\n[03:29.18] People barbecuin' in the front yard\n[03:31.67] Money from the first of the month card!\n[03:34.15] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[03:35.89] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[03:38.03] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[03:40.57] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[03:43.36] You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\n[03:45.55] It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\n[03:48.13] The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\n[03:50.25] Apart, distant (Yeah)\n[03:50.74] Nobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\n[03:53.70] So now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\n[03:56.16] I'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\n[03:58.07] I've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\n[04:00.31] Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\n[04:02.98] I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\n[04:06.05] I'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\n[04:08.21] Serious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\n[04:10.53] If knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\n[04:13.41] And wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\n[04:16.47] In need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n[04:18.49] (Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n[04:22.30] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[04:24.89] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[04:27.52] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[04:29.93] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[04:32.58] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[04:34.65] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[04:37.25] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[04:39.60] Money from the first of the month card!\n[04:41.89] If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n[04:44.02] If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n[04:46.68] If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n[04:49.15] If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n[05:25.22] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)\n  artist: 8Ball & MJG\n  album: In Our Lifetime, Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 325000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\n  start_ms: 18830\n  end_ms: 20980\n- text: So, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\n  start_ms: 20980\n  end_ms: 23210\n- text: Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  start_ms: 23210\n  end_ms: 25940\n- text: My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\n  start_ms: 25940\n  end_ms: 28320\n- text: See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 28320\n  end_ms: 30910\n- text: When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 30910\n  end_ms: 33460\n- text: All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 33460\n  end_ms: 35860\n- text: My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\n  start_ms: 35860\n  end_ms: 38150\n- text: Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n  start_ms: 38150\n  end_ms: 40510\n- text: Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n  start_ms: 40510\n  end_ms: 42670\n- text: (Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 42670\n  end_ms: 45220\n- text: I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  start_ms: 45220\n  end_ms: 47890\n- text: Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  start_ms: 47890\n  end_ms: 50330\n- text: Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n  start_ms: 50330\n  end_ms: 52620\n- text: I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\n  start_ms: 52620\n  end_ms: 54870\n- text: Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n  start_ms: 54870\n  end_ms: 57890\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 57890\n  end_ms: 60600\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 60600\n  end_ms: 63410\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 63410\n  end_ms: 65520\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 65520\n  end_ms: 67920\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 67920\n  end_ms: 70600\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 70600\n  end_ms: 73090\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 73090\n  end_ms: 75460\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 75460\n  end_ms: 77860\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 77860\n  end_ms: 80140\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 80140\n  end_ms: 82310\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 82310\n  end_ms: 84770\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 84770\n  end_ms: 87210\n- text: I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\n  start_ms: 87210\n  end_ms: 90320\n- text: My niggas wanna stay the whole night\n  start_ms: 90320\n  end_ms: 92240\n- text: Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  start_ms: 92240\n  end_ms: 94640\n- text: Nigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\n  start_ms: 94640\n  end_ms: 96710\n- text: Ham sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\n  start_ms: 96710\n  end_ms: 99650\n- text: Naked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\n  start_ms: 99650\n  end_ms: 101680\n- text: Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\n  start_ms: 101680\n  end_ms: 104130\n- text: So, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\n  start_ms: 104130\n  end_ms: 106660\n- text: I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\n  start_ms: 106660\n  end_ms: 109150\n- text: Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n  start_ms: 109150\n  end_ms: 111590\n- text: Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\n  start_ms: 111590\n  end_ms: 113820\n- text: If I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\n  start_ms: 113820\n  end_ms: 116260\n- text: MJG standing tall, and I won't fold\n  start_ms: 116260\n  end_ms: 118870\n- text: You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\n  start_ms: 118870\n  end_ms: 121350\n- text: Onto any woman like a human handcuff\n  start_ms: 121350\n  end_ms: 124060\n- text: You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n  start_ms: 124060\n  end_ms: 126200\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 126200\n  end_ms: 128870\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 128870\n  end_ms: 131330\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 131330\n  end_ms: 133700\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 133700\n  end_ms: 136070\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 136070\n  end_ms: 138450\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 138450\n  end_ms: 141020\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 141020\n  end_ms: 143410\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 143410\n  end_ms: 145950\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 145950\n  end_ms: 148210\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 148210\n  end_ms: 149570\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 149570\n  end_ms: 152310\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 152310\n  end_ms: 154770\n- text: How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n  start_ms: 154770\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 160590\n- text: Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy\n  start_ms: 160590\n  end_ms: 162070\n- text: Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\n  start_ms: 162070\n  end_ms: 163100\n- text: Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\n  start_ms: 163100\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: Y'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 168010\n- text: Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 168010\n  end_ms: 170410\n- text: From Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  start_ms: 170410\n  end_ms: 172880\n- text: The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n  start_ms: 172880\n  end_ms: 175200\n- text: No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  start_ms: 175200\n  end_ms: 177750\n- text: The Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\n  start_ms: 177750\n  end_ms: 180150\n- text: It shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\n  start_ms: 180150\n  end_ms: 182750\n- text: The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  start_ms: 182750\n  end_ms: 185050\n- text: Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n  start_ms: 185050\n  end_ms: 187680\n- text: And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\n  start_ms: 187680\n  end_ms: 190220\n- text: You know, I'm talkin 'bout?\n  start_ms: 190220\n  end_ms: 191720\n- text: OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n  start_ms: 191720\n  end_ms: 194630\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 194630\n  end_ms: 196880\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 196880\n  end_ms: 199330\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 199330\n  end_ms: 201700\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 201700\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 206630\n- text: Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 206630\n  end_ms: 209180\n- text: People barbecuin' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 209180\n  end_ms: 211670\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 211670\n  end_ms: 214150\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 214150\n  end_ms: 215890\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 215890\n  end_ms: 218030\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 218030\n  end_ms: 220570\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 220570\n  end_ms: 223360\n- text: You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\n  start_ms: 223360\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 228130\n- text: The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\n  start_ms: 228130\n  end_ms: 230250\n- text: Apart, distant (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 230250\n  end_ms: 230740\n- text: Nobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\n  start_ms: 230740\n  end_ms: 233700\n- text: So now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\n  start_ms: 233700\n  end_ms: 236160\n- text: I'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\n  start_ms: 236160\n  end_ms: 238070\n- text: I've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\n  start_ms: 238070\n  end_ms: 240310\n- text: Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 240310\n  end_ms: 242980\n- text: I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 242980\n  end_ms: 246050\n- text: I'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\n  start_ms: 246050\n  end_ms: 248210\n- text: Serious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\n  start_ms: 248210\n  end_ms: 250530\n- text: If knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\n  start_ms: 250530\n  end_ms: 253410\n- text: And wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\n  start_ms: 253410\n  end_ms: 256470\n- text: In need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n  start_ms: 256470\n  end_ms: 258490\n- text: (Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n  start_ms: 258490\n  end_ms: 262300\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 262300\n  end_ms: 264890\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 264890\n  end_ms: 267520\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 267520\n  end_ms: 269930\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 269930\n  end_ms: 272580\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 272580\n  end_ms: 274650\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 274650\n  end_ms: 277250\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 277250\n  end_ms: 279600\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 279600\n  end_ms: 281890\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 281890\n  end_ms: 284020\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 284020\n  end_ms: 286680\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 286680\n  end_ms: 289150\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 289150\n  end_ms: 325220\nplain: |-\n  Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\n  Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  My player ways keep me with plenty dimes\n  See I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\n  When a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z\n  All night on the block til the sun rise\n  My only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\n  Four five in the mornin it don't stop\n  Day dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)\n  Blue lights snap me back to reality\n  I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  Search tha nigga and took about a three in cash\n  I guess that's better than gettin locked up\n  Or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  I got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit\n  So tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\n  Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  Nigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees\n  Ham sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\n  Naked women in tha den playing, hop scotch\n  Thirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\n  So hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\n  I be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\n  Got some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip\n  Met a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\n  If I diss her it'll take a nigga ten lines\n  MJG standing tall and I, won't fold\n  You can have all the bitches, cause I, don't hold\n  On to any woman like a human hand cuff\n  You got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  How many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows\n  Stickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves\n  Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y'all bite\n  Been had a coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\n  Y'all just might seem to skunk eyed, with a girl who chunked thighed\n  Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin about\n  From Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  The deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I'm after\n  No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  The Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major\n  They shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her\n  The player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  Beats by the layers, of music right here to please you\n  But if ain't that dirty then patna see we don't need you\n  You know I'm talkin bout\n  OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\n  It's like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get\n  The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\n  Apart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance\n  So now, throw your filangies in tha ground\n  I'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\n  I found negatives niggas they only keep ya down\n  Transmitting from Native American burial grounds\n  I carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads\n  Um post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad\n  Serious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then\n  Buddy roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work\n  So she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast\n  Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker\n  Word to the motherfucker!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n"},{"id":16403502,"name":"Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)","trackName":"Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)","artistName":"8ball & Mjg","albumName":"We Are The South (Greatest Hits)","duration":324.597551,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\nkeep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\nMy player ways keep me with plenty dimes\nSee I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\nWhen a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z\nAll night on the block til the sun rise\nMy only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\nFour five in the mornin it don't stop\nDay dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)\nBlue lights snap me back to reality\nI hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\nTricks ain't got shit to do but harass\nSearch tha nigga and took about a three in cash\nI guess that's better than gettin locked up\nOr gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nI got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit\nSo tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\nDice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\nNigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees\nHam sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\nNaked women in tha den playing, hop scotch\nThirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\nSo hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\nI be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\nGot some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip\nMet a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\nIf I diss her it'll take a nigga ten lines\nMJG standing tall and I, won't fold\nYou can have all the bitches, cause I, don't hold\nOn to any woman like a human hand cuff\nYou got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nHow many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows\nStickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves\nLike nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y'all bite\nBeen had a coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\nY'all just might seem to skunk eyed, with a girl who chunked thighed\nBelow the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin about\nFrom Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\nThe deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I'm after\nNo laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\nThe Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major\nThey shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her\nThe player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker\nBeats by the layers, of music right here to please you\nBut if ain't that dirty then patna see we don't need you\nYou know I'm talkin bout\nOutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nYou wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\nIt's like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get\nThe closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\nApart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance\nSo now, throw your filangies in tha ground\nI'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\nI found negatives niggas they only keep ya down\nTransmitting from Native American burial grounds\nI carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads\nUm post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad\nSerious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then\nBuddy roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work\nSo she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast\nWord to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker\nWord to the motherfucker!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)\n  artist: 8ball & Mjg\n  album: We Are The South (Greatest Hits)\n  duration_ms: 324598\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\n  keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  My player ways keep me with plenty dimes\n  See I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\n  When a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z\n  All night on the block til the sun rise\n  My only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\n  Four five in the mornin it don't stop\n  Day dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)\n  Blue lights snap me back to reality\n  I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  Search tha nigga and took about a three in cash\n  I guess that's better than gettin locked up\n  Or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  I got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit\n  So tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\n  Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  Nigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees\n  Ham sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\n  Naked women in tha den playing, hop scotch\n  Thirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\n  So hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\n  I be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\n  Got some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip\n  Met a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\n  If I diss her it'll take a nigga ten lines\n  MJG standing tall and I, won't fold\n  You can have all the bitches, cause I, don't hold\n  On to any woman like a human hand cuff\n  You got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  How many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows\n  Stickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves\n  Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y'all bite\n  Been had a coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\n  Y'all just might seem to skunk eyed, with a girl who chunked thighed\n  Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin about\n  From Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  The deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I'm after\n  No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  The Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major\n  They shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her\n  The player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  Beats by the layers, of music right here to please you\n  But if ain't that dirty then patna see we don't need you\n  You know I'm talkin bout\n  OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\n  It's like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get\n  The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\n  Apart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance\n  So now, throw your filangies in tha ground\n  I'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\n  I found negatives niggas they only keep ya down\n  Transmitting from Native American burial grounds\n  I carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads\n  Um post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad\n  Serious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then\n  Buddy roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work\n  So she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast\n  Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker\n  Word to the motherfucker!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n"},{"id":16515725,"name":"Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)","trackName":"Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)","artistName":"8ball & Mjg","albumName":"In Our Lifetime","duration":326.712525,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\nkeep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\nMy player ways keep me with plenty dimes\nSee I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\nWhen a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z\nAll night on the block til the sun rise\nMy only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\nFour five in the mornin it don't stop\nDay dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)\nBlue lights snap me back to reality\nI hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\nTricks ain't got shit to do but harass\nSearch tha nigga and took about a three in cash\nI guess that's better than gettin locked up\nOr gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nI got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit\nSo tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\nDice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\nNigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees\nHam sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\nNaked women in tha den playing, hop scotch\nThirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\nSo hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\nI be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\nGot some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip\nMet a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\nIf I diss her it'll take a nigga ten lines\nMJG standing tall and I, won't fold\nYou can have all the bitches, cause I, don't hold\nOn to any woman like a human hand cuff\nYou got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nHow many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows\nStickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves\nLike nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y'all bite\nBeen had a coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\nY'all just might seem to skunk eyed, with a girl who chunked thighed\nBelow the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin about\nFrom Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\nThe deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I'm after\nNo laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\nThe Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major\nThey shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her\nThe player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker\nBeats by the layers, of music right here to please you\nBut if ain't that dirty then patna see we don't need you\nYou know I'm talkin bout\nOutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nYou wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\nIt's like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get\nThe closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\nApart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance\nSo now, throw your filangies in tha ground\nI'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\nI found negatives niggas they only keep ya down\nTransmitting from Native American burial grounds\nI carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads\nUm post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad\nSerious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then\nBuddy roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work\nSo she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast\nWord to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker\nWord to the motherfucker!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands Up (feat. Outkast)\n  artist: 8ball & Mjg\n  album: In Our Lifetime\n  duration_ms: 326713\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\n  keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  My player ways keep me with plenty dimes\n  See I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\n  When a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z\n  All night on the block til the sun rise\n  My only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\n  Four five in the mornin it don't stop\n  Day dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)\n  Blue lights snap me back to reality\n  I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  Search tha nigga and took about a three in cash\n  I guess that's better than gettin locked up\n  Or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  I got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit\n  So tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\n  Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  Nigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees\n  Ham sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\n  Naked women in tha den playing, hop scotch\n  Thirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\n  So hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\n  I be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\n  Got some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip\n  Met a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\n  If I diss her it'll take a nigga ten lines\n  MJG standing tall and I, won't fold\n  You can have all the bitches, cause I, don't hold\n  On to any woman like a human hand cuff\n  You got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  How many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows\n  Stickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves\n  Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y'all bite\n  Been had a coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\n  Y'all just might seem to skunk eyed, with a girl who chunked thighed\n  Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin about\n  From Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  The deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I'm after\n  No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  The Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major\n  They shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her\n  The player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  Beats by the layers, of music right here to please you\n  But if ain't that dirty then patna see we don't need you\n  You know I'm talkin bout\n  OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\n  It's like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get\n  The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\n  Apart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance\n  So now, throw your filangies in tha ground\n  I'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\n  I found negatives niggas they only keep ya down\n  Transmitting from Native American burial grounds\n  I carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads\n  Um post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad\n  Serious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then\n  Buddy roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work\n  So she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast\n  Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker\n  Word to the motherfucker!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n"},{"id":12589585,"name":"13. 8Ball & MJG - Throw Your Hands Up (feat. OutKast)","trackName":"13. 8Ball & MJG - Throw Your Hands Up (feat. OutKast)","artistName":"8ball","albumName":"In Our Lifetime","duration":325.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time\nSo I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\nKeep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\nMy player ways keep me with plenty dimes\nSee I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\nWhen a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z\nAll night on the block 'til the sun rise\nMy only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\nFour, five in the mornin', it don't stop\nDaydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop top (woop)\nBlue lights snap me back to reality\nI hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\nTricks ain't got shit to do but harass\nSearched a nigga and took about a three in cash\nI guess that's better than gettin locked up\nOr gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\n\nNow I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\nAfros and loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuein' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\nI got a maid cooking grits with a, outfit\nSo tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\nDice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\nNigga drunk singin' sounding like the Bee Gees\nHam sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\nNaked women in the den playing, hop scotch\nThirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\nSo hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\nI be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\nGot some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\nMet a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\nIf I diss her it'll take a nigga, ten lines\nMJG standing tall and I, won't fold\nYou can have all the bitches, 'cause I, don't hold\nOn to any woman like a human handcuff\nYou got ya hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n\nNow I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\nAfros and loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuein' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\nHow many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\nStickin' out just like an OUTKAST or a thorn from stem of rose\nLike nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin' when y'all bite\nBeen had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\nY'all just might see the skunk guy, with a girl who chunked thighed\nBelow the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\nFrom Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\nThe deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\nNo laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\nThe Space Age is pimpin this, players comin' major\nThey shot the sucka, sprayed ya, cut ya wife and played her\nThe player the B-I-G B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\nBeats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\nAnd if you hate the Dirty, then patna, see we don't need you\nYou know I'm talkin 'bout?\nOutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n\nNow I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\nAfros and loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuein' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\nYou wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\nIt's like the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get\nThe closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\nApart, distant\nNobody has the upper hand but my body's resistant\nSo now, throw your phalanges in the ground\nI'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\nI found negative niggas they only keep ya down\nTransmitting from Native American burial ground\nI carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads\nI'm post to blast, space invaders up somebody's dad\nSerious as Aa-Bb-Cc\nIf knowledge be the key then buddy roasted on the porch\nAnd wait for ya momma to get off work so she can roast yo' ass\nThey need to find an open window fast\nWord to the motherfucker; word to the motherfucker\nWord to the motherfucker!\n\nNow I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\nAfros and loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople barbecuein' in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card!\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\nIf anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up","syncedLyrics":"[00:18.83] Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\n[00:20.98] So, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\n[00:23.21] Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n[00:25.94] My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\n[00:28.32] See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\n[00:30.91] When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\n[00:33.46] All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\n[00:35.86] My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\n[00:38.15] Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n[00:40.51] Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n[00:42.67] (Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\n[00:45.22] I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n[00:47.89] Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n[00:50.33] Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n[00:52.62] I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\n[00:54.87] Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n[00:57.89] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[01:00.60] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[01:03.41] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[01:05.52] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[01:07.92] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[01:10.60] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[01:13.09] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[01:15.46] Money from the first of the month card!\n[01:17.86] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[01:20.14] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[01:22.31] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[01:24.77] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[01:27.21] I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\n[01:30.32] My niggas wanna stay the whole night\n[01:32.24] Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n[01:34.64] Nigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\n[01:36.71] Ham sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\n[01:39.65] Naked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\n[01:41.68] Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\n[01:44.13] So, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\n[01:46.66] I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\n[01:49.15] Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n[01:51.59] Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\n[01:53.82] If I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\n[01:56.26] MJG standing tall, and I won't fold\n[01:58.87] You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\n[02:01.35] Onto any woman like a human handcuff\n[02:04.06] You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n[02:06.20] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[02:08.87] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[02:11.33] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[02:13.70] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[02:16.07] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[02:18.45] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[02:21.02] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[02:23.41] Money from the first of the month card!\n[02:25.95] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[02:28.21] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[02:29.57] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[02:32.31] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[02:34.77] How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n[02:37.88] Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\n[02:40.59] Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy\n[02:42.07] Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\n[02:43.10] Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\n[02:45.33] Y'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\n[02:48.01] Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n[02:50.41] From Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n[02:52.88] The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n[02:55.20] No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n[02:57.75] The Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\n[03:00.15] It shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\n[03:02.75] The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n[03:05.05] Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n[03:07.68] And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\n[03:10.22] You know, I'm talkin 'bout?\n[03:11.72] OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n[03:14.63] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[03:16.88] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[03:19.33] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[03:21.70] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[03:24.12] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[03:26.63] Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes\n[03:29.18] People barbecuin' in the front yard\n[03:31.67] Money from the first of the month card!\n[03:34.15] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[03:35.89] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[03:38.03] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[03:40.57] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[03:43.36] You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\n[03:45.55] It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\n[03:48.13] The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\n[03:50.25] Apart, distant (Yeah)\n[03:50.74] Nobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\n[03:53.70] So now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\n[03:56.16] I'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\n[03:58.07] I've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\n[04:00.31] Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\n[04:02.98] I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\n[04:06.05] I'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\n[04:08.21] Serious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\n[04:10.53] If knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\n[04:13.41] And wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\n[04:16.47] In need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n[04:18.49] (Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n[04:22.30] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[04:24.89] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[04:27.52] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[04:29.93] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[04:32.58] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[04:34.65] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[04:37.25] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[04:39.60] Money from the first of the month card!\n[04:41.89] If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n[04:44.02] If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n[04:46.68] If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n[04:49.15] If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n[05:25.22] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 13. 8Ball & MJG - Throw Your Hands Up (feat. OutKast)\n  artist: 8ball\n  album: In Our Lifetime\n  duration_ms: 325000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\n  start_ms: 18830\n  end_ms: 20980\n- text: So, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\n  start_ms: 20980\n  end_ms: 23210\n- text: Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  start_ms: 23210\n  end_ms: 25940\n- text: My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\n  start_ms: 25940\n  end_ms: 28320\n- text: See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 28320\n  end_ms: 30910\n- text: When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 30910\n  end_ms: 33460\n- text: All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 33460\n  end_ms: 35860\n- text: My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\n  start_ms: 35860\n  end_ms: 38150\n- text: Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n  start_ms: 38150\n  end_ms: 40510\n- text: Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n  start_ms: 40510\n  end_ms: 42670\n- text: (Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 42670\n  end_ms: 45220\n- text: I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  start_ms: 45220\n  end_ms: 47890\n- text: Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  start_ms: 47890\n  end_ms: 50330\n- text: Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n  start_ms: 50330\n  end_ms: 52620\n- text: I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\n  start_ms: 52620\n  end_ms: 54870\n- text: Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n  start_ms: 54870\n  end_ms: 57890\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 57890\n  end_ms: 60600\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 60600\n  end_ms: 63410\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 63410\n  end_ms: 65520\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 65520\n  end_ms: 67920\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 67920\n  end_ms: 70600\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 70600\n  end_ms: 73090\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 73090\n  end_ms: 75460\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 75460\n  end_ms: 77860\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 77860\n  end_ms: 80140\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 80140\n  end_ms: 82310\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 82310\n  end_ms: 84770\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 84770\n  end_ms: 87210\n- text: I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\n  start_ms: 87210\n  end_ms: 90320\n- text: My niggas wanna stay the whole night\n  start_ms: 90320\n  end_ms: 92240\n- text: Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  start_ms: 92240\n  end_ms: 94640\n- text: Nigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\n  start_ms: 94640\n  end_ms: 96710\n- text: Ham sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\n  start_ms: 96710\n  end_ms: 99650\n- text: Naked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\n  start_ms: 99650\n  end_ms: 101680\n- text: Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\n  start_ms: 101680\n  end_ms: 104130\n- text: So, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\n  start_ms: 104130\n  end_ms: 106660\n- text: I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\n  start_ms: 106660\n  end_ms: 109150\n- text: Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n  start_ms: 109150\n  end_ms: 111590\n- text: Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\n  start_ms: 111590\n  end_ms: 113820\n- text: If I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\n  start_ms: 113820\n  end_ms: 116260\n- text: MJG standing tall, and I won't fold\n  start_ms: 116260\n  end_ms: 118870\n- text: You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\n  start_ms: 118870\n  end_ms: 121350\n- text: Onto any woman like a human handcuff\n  start_ms: 121350\n  end_ms: 124060\n- text: You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n  start_ms: 124060\n  end_ms: 126200\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 126200\n  end_ms: 128870\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 128870\n  end_ms: 131330\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 131330\n  end_ms: 133700\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 133700\n  end_ms: 136070\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 136070\n  end_ms: 138450\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 138450\n  end_ms: 141020\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 141020\n  end_ms: 143410\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 143410\n  end_ms: 145950\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 145950\n  end_ms: 148210\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 148210\n  end_ms: 149570\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 149570\n  end_ms: 152310\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 152310\n  end_ms: 154770\n- text: How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n  start_ms: 154770\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 160590\n- text: Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy\n  start_ms: 160590\n  end_ms: 162070\n- text: Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\n  start_ms: 162070\n  end_ms: 163100\n- text: Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\n  start_ms: 163100\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: Y'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 168010\n- text: Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 168010\n  end_ms: 170410\n- text: From Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  start_ms: 170410\n  end_ms: 172880\n- text: The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n  start_ms: 172880\n  end_ms: 175200\n- text: No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  start_ms: 175200\n  end_ms: 177750\n- text: The Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\n  start_ms: 177750\n  end_ms: 180150\n- text: It shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\n  start_ms: 180150\n  end_ms: 182750\n- text: The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  start_ms: 182750\n  end_ms: 185050\n- text: Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n  start_ms: 185050\n  end_ms: 187680\n- text: And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\n  start_ms: 187680\n  end_ms: 190220\n- text: You know, I'm talkin 'bout?\n  start_ms: 190220\n  end_ms: 191720\n- text: OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n  start_ms: 191720\n  end_ms: 194630\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 194630\n  end_ms: 196880\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 196880\n  end_ms: 199330\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 199330\n  end_ms: 201700\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 201700\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 206630\n- text: Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 206630\n  end_ms: 209180\n- text: People barbecuin' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 209180\n  end_ms: 211670\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 211670\n  end_ms: 214150\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 214150\n  end_ms: 215890\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 215890\n  end_ms: 218030\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 218030\n  end_ms: 220570\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 220570\n  end_ms: 223360\n- text: You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\n  start_ms: 223360\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 228130\n- text: The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\n  start_ms: 228130\n  end_ms: 230250\n- text: Apart, distant (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 230250\n  end_ms: 230740\n- text: Nobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\n  start_ms: 230740\n  end_ms: 233700\n- text: So now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\n  start_ms: 233700\n  end_ms: 236160\n- text: I'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\n  start_ms: 236160\n  end_ms: 238070\n- text: I've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\n  start_ms: 238070\n  end_ms: 240310\n- text: Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 240310\n  end_ms: 242980\n- text: I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 242980\n  end_ms: 246050\n- text: I'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\n  start_ms: 246050\n  end_ms: 248210\n- text: Serious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\n  start_ms: 248210\n  end_ms: 250530\n- text: If knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\n  start_ms: 250530\n  end_ms: 253410\n- text: And wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\n  start_ms: 253410\n  end_ms: 256470\n- text: In need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n  start_ms: 256470\n  end_ms: 258490\n- text: (Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n  start_ms: 258490\n  end_ms: 262300\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 262300\n  end_ms: 264890\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 264890\n  end_ms: 267520\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 267520\n  end_ms: 269930\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 269930\n  end_ms: 272580\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 272580\n  end_ms: 274650\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 274650\n  end_ms: 277250\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 277250\n  end_ms: 279600\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 279600\n  end_ms: 281890\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 281890\n  end_ms: 284020\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 284020\n  end_ms: 286680\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 286680\n  end_ms: 289150\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 289150\n  end_ms: 325220\nplain: |-\n  Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time\n  So I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\n  Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  My player ways keep me with plenty dimes\n  See I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\n  When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z\n  All night on the block 'til the sun rise\n  My only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\n  Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n  Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop top (woop)\n  Blue lights snap me back to reality\n  I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n  I guess that's better than gettin locked up\n  Or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\n\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\n  I got a maid cooking grits with a, outfit\n  So tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\n  Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  Nigga drunk singin' sounding like the Bee Gees\n  Ham sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\n  Naked women in the den playing, hop scotch\n  Thirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\n  So hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\n  I be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\n  Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n  Met a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\n  If I diss her it'll take a nigga, ten lines\n  MJG standing tall and I, won't fold\n  You can have all the bitches, 'cause I, don't hold\n  On to any woman like a human handcuff\n  You got ya hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\n  How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n  Stickin' out just like an OUTKAST or a thorn from stem of rose\n  Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin' when y'all bite\n  Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\n  Y'all just might see the skunk guy, with a girl who chunked thighed\n  Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n  From Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n  No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  The Space Age is pimpin this, players comin' major\n  They shot the sucka, sprayed ya, cut ya wife and played her\n  The player the B-I-G B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n  And if you hate the Dirty, then patna, see we don't need you\n  You know I'm talkin 'bout?\n  OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n\n  You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\n  It's like the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get\n  The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\n  Apart, distant\n  Nobody has the upper hand but my body's resistant\n  So now, throw your phalanges in the ground\n  I'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\n  I found negative niggas they only keep ya down\n  Transmitting from Native American burial ground\n  I carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads\n  I'm post to blast, space invaders up somebody's dad\n  Serious as Aa-Bb-Cc\n  If knowledge be the key then buddy roasted on the porch\n  And wait for ya momma to get off work so she can roast yo' ass\n  They need to find an open window fast\n  Word to the motherfucker; word to the motherfucker\n  Word to the motherfucker!\n\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo' folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card!\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n"},{"id":12540182,"name":"Throw Your Hands Up","trackName":"Throw Your Hands Up","artistName":"8Ball & MJG feat. OutKast","albumName":"In Our Lifetime","duration":326.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\nkeep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\nMy player ways keep me with plenty dimes\nSee I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\nWhen a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z\nAll night on the block til the sun rise\nMy only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\nFour five in the mornin it don't stop\nDay dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)\nBlue lights snap me back to reality\nI hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\nTricks ain't got shit to do but harass\nSearch tha nigga and took about a three in cash\nI guess that's better than gettin locked up\nOr gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nI got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit\nSo tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\nDice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\nNigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees\nHam sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\nNaked women in tha den playing, hop scotch\nThirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\nSo hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\nI be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\nGot some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip\nMet a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\nIf I diss her it'll take a nigga ten lines\nMJG standing tall and I, won't fold\nYou can have all the bitches, cause I, don't hold\nOn to any woman like a human hand cuff\nYou got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nHow many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows\nStickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves\nLike nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y'all bite\nBeen had a coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\nY'all just might seem to skunk eyed, with a girl who chunked thighed\nBelow the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin about\nFrom Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\nThe deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I'm after\nNo laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\nThe Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major\nThey shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her\nThe player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker\nBeats by the layers, of music right here to please you\nBut if ain't that dirty then patna see we don't need you\nYou know I'm talkin bout\nOutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nYou wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\nIt's like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get\nThe closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\nApart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance\nSo now, throw your filangies in tha ground\nI'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\nI found negatives niggas they only keep ya down\nTransmitting from Native American burial grounds\nI carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads\nUm post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad\nSerious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then\nBuddy roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work\nSo she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast\nWord to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker\nWord to the motherfucker!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up","syncedLyrics":"[00:18.83] Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\n[00:20.98] So, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\n[00:23.21] Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n[00:25.94] My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\n[00:28.32] See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\n[00:30.91] When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\n[00:33.46] All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\n[00:35.86] My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\n[00:38.15] Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n[00:40.51] Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n[00:42.67] (Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\n[00:45.22] I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n[00:47.89] Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n[00:50.33] Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n[00:52.62] I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\n[00:54.87] Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n[00:57.89] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[01:00.60] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[01:03.41] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[01:05.52] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[01:07.92] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[01:10.60] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[01:13.09] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[01:15.46] Money from the first of the month card!\n[01:17.86] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[01:20.14] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[01:22.31] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[01:24.77] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[01:27.21] I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\n[01:30.32] My niggas wanna stay the whole night\n[01:32.24] Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n[01:34.64] Nigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\n[01:36.71] Ham sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\n[01:39.65] Naked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\n[01:41.68] Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\n[01:44.13] So, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\n[01:46.66] I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\n[01:49.15] Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n[01:51.59] Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\n[01:53.82] If I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\n[01:56.26] MJG standing tall, and I won't fold\n[01:58.87] You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\n[02:01.35] Onto any woman like a human handcuff\n[02:04.06] You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n[02:06.20] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[02:08.87] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[02:11.33] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[02:13.70] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[02:16.07] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[02:18.45] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[02:21.02] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[02:23.41] Money from the first of the month card!\n[02:25.95] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[02:28.21] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[02:29.57] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[02:32.31] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[02:34.77] How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n[02:37.88] Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\n[02:40.59] Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy\n[02:42.07] Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\n[02:43.10] Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\n[02:45.33] Y'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\n[02:48.01] Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n[02:50.41] From Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n[02:52.88] The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n[02:55.20] No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n[02:57.75] The Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\n[03:00.15] It shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\n[03:02.75] The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n[03:05.05] Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n[03:07.68] And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\n[03:10.22] You know, I'm talkin 'bout?\n[03:11.72] OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n[03:14.63] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[03:16.88] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[03:19.33] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[03:21.70] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[03:24.12] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[03:26.63] Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes\n[03:29.18] People barbecuin' in the front yard\n[03:31.67] Money from the first of the month card!\n[03:34.15] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[03:35.89] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[03:38.03] If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n[03:40.57] If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n[03:43.36] You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\n[03:45.55] It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\n[03:48.13] The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\n[03:50.25] Apart, distant (Yeah)\n[03:50.74] Nobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\n[03:53.70] So now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\n[03:56.16] I'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\n[03:58.07] I've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\n[04:00.31] Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\n[04:02.98] I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\n[04:06.05] I'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\n[04:08.21] Serious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\n[04:10.53] If knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\n[04:13.41] And wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\n[04:16.47] In need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n[04:18.49] (Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n[04:22.30] Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n[04:24.89] Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n[04:27.52] Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n[04:29.93] And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n[04:32.58] Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n[04:34.65] Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n[04:37.25] People barbecuein' in the front yard\n[04:39.60] Money from the first of the month card!\n[04:41.89] If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n[04:44.02] If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n[04:46.68] If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n[04:49.15] If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n[05:25.22] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands Up\n  artist: 8Ball & MJG feat. OutKast\n  album: In Our Lifetime\n  duration_ms: 326000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch, I ain't got nothin' but time\n  start_ms: 18830\n  end_ms: 20980\n- text: So, I'ma get out on these cuts and grind\n  start_ms: 20980\n  end_ms: 23210\n- text: Keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  start_ms: 23210\n  end_ms: 25940\n- text: My player ways, keep me with plenty dimes\n  start_ms: 25940\n  end_ms: 28320\n- text: See, I'ma shine like all six of my gold teeth (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 28320\n  end_ms: 30910\n- text: When a nigga get through cooking up this O-Z (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 30910\n  end_ms: 33460\n- text: All night on the block 'til the sun rise (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 33460\n  end_ms: 35860\n- text: My only friend is a Glock, with the four-five\n  start_ms: 35860\n  end_ms: 38150\n- text: Four, five in the mornin', it don't stop\n  start_ms: 38150\n  end_ms: 40510\n- text: Daydreamin' 'bout flossin' a drop-top\n  start_ms: 40510\n  end_ms: 42670\n- text: (Woop!) Blue lights snap me back to reality (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 42670\n  end_ms: 45220\n- text: I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  start_ms: 45220\n  end_ms: 47890\n- text: Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  start_ms: 47890\n  end_ms: 50330\n- text: Searched a nigga and took about a three in cash\n  start_ms: 50330\n  end_ms: 52620\n- text: I guess, that's better, than gettin' locked up\n  start_ms: 52620\n  end_ms: 54870\n- text: Or gettin jammed, with that shit, I had rocked up, huh!\n  start_ms: 54870\n  end_ms: 57890\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 57890\n  end_ms: 60600\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 60600\n  end_ms: 63410\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 63410\n  end_ms: 65520\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 65520\n  end_ms: 67920\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 67920\n  end_ms: 70600\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 70600\n  end_ms: 73090\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 73090\n  end_ms: 75460\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 75460\n  end_ms: 77860\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 77860\n  end_ms: 80140\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 80140\n  end_ms: 82310\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 82310\n  end_ms: 84770\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 84770\n  end_ms: 87210\n- text: I got a maid cookin' grits, with a outfit, so tight\n  start_ms: 87210\n  end_ms: 90320\n- text: My niggas wanna stay the whole night\n  start_ms: 90320\n  end_ms: 92240\n- text: Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  start_ms: 92240\n  end_ms: 94640\n- text: Nigga drunk, singin', sounding like the Bee Gees\n  start_ms: 94640\n  end_ms: 96710\n- text: Ham sandwich in the driveway, drop-top\n  start_ms: 96710\n  end_ms: 99650\n- text: Naked women in the den, playin' hopscotch\n  start_ms: 99650\n  end_ms: 101680\n- text: Thirty busters in my yard, they be long gone\n  start_ms: 101680\n  end_ms: 104130\n- text: So, hit me and I'ma keep my phone on\n  start_ms: 104130\n  end_ms: 106660\n- text: I be out turnin' corners, drinkin' one fifth\n  start_ms: 106660\n  end_ms: 109150\n- text: Got some scratches on my rims, 'cause of one dip\n  start_ms: 109150\n  end_ms: 111590\n- text: Met a broad yesterday, she hit me ten times\n  start_ms: 111590\n  end_ms: 113820\n- text: If I diss her, it'll take a nigga ten lines\n  start_ms: 113820\n  end_ms: 116260\n- text: MJG standing tall, and I won't fold\n  start_ms: 116260\n  end_ms: 118870\n- text: You can have all the bitches, 'cause I don't hold\n  start_ms: 118870\n  end_ms: 121350\n- text: Onto any woman like a human handcuff\n  start_ms: 121350\n  end_ms: 124060\n- text: You got your hair down, baby, fuck it, stand up!\n  start_ms: 124060\n  end_ms: 126200\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 126200\n  end_ms: 128870\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 128870\n  end_ms: 131330\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 131330\n  end_ms: 133700\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 133700\n  end_ms: 136070\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 136070\n  end_ms: 138450\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 138450\n  end_ms: 141020\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 141020\n  end_ms: 143410\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 143410\n  end_ms: 145950\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 145950\n  end_ms: 148210\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 148210\n  end_ms: 149570\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 149570\n  end_ms: 152310\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 152310\n  end_ms: 154770\n- text: How many flows can I compose? I drop this slang like lyrical 'bows\n  start_ms: 154770\n  end_ms: 157880\n- text: Stickin' out just like an outcast or a thorn from stem of rose\n  start_ms: 157880\n  end_ms: 160590\n- text: Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy\n  start_ms: 160590\n  end_ms: 162070\n- text: Crackin' when y'all bite (Bite)\n  start_ms: 162070\n  end_ms: 163100\n- text: Been had a Coke and a smile, now I'm trippin' off 'gnac and Sprite\n  start_ms: 163100\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: Y'all just might see me skunk-eyed, with a girl who chunked-thighed\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 168010\n- text: Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 168010\n  end_ms: 170410\n- text: From Texas to Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  start_ms: 170410\n  end_ms: 172880\n- text: The deeper, the darker, the Dirty South is what I'm after\n  start_ms: 172880\n  end_ms: 175200\n- text: No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  start_ms: 175200\n  end_ms: 177750\n- text: The Space Age-est Pimpin'-est players, comin' major\n  start_ms: 177750\n  end_ms: 180150\n- text: It shocked ya, sprayed ya, cut your wife and played her\n  start_ms: 180150\n  end_ms: 182750\n- text: The player, the B-I-G, B-O-I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  start_ms: 182750\n  end_ms: 185050\n- text: Beats, rhymes, and layers of music right here to please you\n  start_ms: 185050\n  end_ms: 187680\n- text: And if you hate the Dirty, then partner, see, we don't need you\n  start_ms: 187680\n  end_ms: 190220\n- text: You know, I'm talkin 'bout?\n  start_ms: 190220\n  end_ms: 191720\n- text: OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n  start_ms: 191720\n  end_ms: 194630\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 194630\n  end_ms: 196880\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 196880\n  end_ms: 199330\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 199330\n  end_ms: 201700\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 201700\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 206630\n- text: Afros and loud-ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 206630\n  end_ms: 209180\n- text: People barbecuin' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 209180\n  end_ms: 211670\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 211670\n  end_ms: 214150\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 214150\n  end_ms: 215890\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 215890\n  end_ms: 218030\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 218030\n  end_ms: 220570\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get your hands up\n  start_ms: 220570\n  end_ms: 223360\n- text: You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (Ooh!)\n  start_ms: 223360\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: It's like, the more that I talk to you, the dumber that I get (Yeah...)\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 228130\n- text: The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand (Okay)\n  start_ms: 228130\n  end_ms: 230250\n- text: Apart, distant (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 230250\n  end_ms: 230740\n- text: Nobody has the upper hand, but my body's resistant\n  start_ms: 230740\n  end_ms: 233700\n- text: So now, throw your phalanges to the ground (Aight)\n  start_ms: 233700\n  end_ms: 236160\n- text: I'm stellar bound, non-believers stay from hell around\n  start_ms: 236160\n  end_ms: 238070\n- text: I've found negative niggas, they only keep ya down\n  start_ms: 238070\n  end_ms: 240310\n- text: Transmittin' from Native American burial ground (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 240310\n  end_ms: 242980\n- text: I carry around (Ugh) the weight of all worlds on my shoulder pads (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 242980\n  end_ms: 246050\n- text: I'm posed to blast, 'Space Invaders' up somebody's dad\n  start_ms: 246050\n  end_ms: 248210\n- text: Serious as A (A!), B (B!), C (C!)\n  start_ms: 248210\n  end_ms: 250530\n- text: If knowledge be the key, then buddy bro, sit it on the porch (Ooh)\n  start_ms: 250530\n  end_ms: 253410\n- text: And wait for ya mama to get off work, so she can roast yo' ass\n  start_ms: 253410\n  end_ms: 256470\n- text: In need to find an open window fast (Word to the motherfucker)\n  start_ms: 256470\n  end_ms: 258490\n- text: (Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker)\n  start_ms: 258490\n  end_ms: 262300\n- text: Now, I heard, that the South is, where yo' folks from\n  start_ms: 262300\n  end_ms: 264890\n- text: Down in the bottoms, where they broke some\n  start_ms: 264890\n  end_ms: 267520\n- text: Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  start_ms: 267520\n  end_ms: 269930\n- text: And now, they wonder, why we act, how we act\n  start_ms: 269930\n  end_ms: 272580\n- text: Gold teeth and heavy Chevys, and talkin' slow\n  start_ms: 272580\n  end_ms: 274650\n- text: Afros and loud ass Italian clothes\n  start_ms: 274650\n  end_ms: 277250\n- text: People barbecuein' in the front yard\n  start_ms: 277250\n  end_ms: 279600\n- text: Money from the first of the month card!\n  start_ms: 279600\n  end_ms: 281890\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 281890\n  end_ms: 284020\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 284020\n  end_ms: 286680\n- text: If anybody out there hear me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 286680\n  end_ms: 289150\n- text: If anybody out there feel me, get ya hands up\n  start_ms: 289150\n  end_ms: 325220\nplain: |-\n  Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\n  keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  My player ways keep me with plenty dimes\n  See I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\n  When a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z\n  All night on the block til the sun rise\n  My only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\n  Four five in the mornin it don't stop\n  Day dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)\n  Blue lights snap me back to reality\n  I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  Search tha nigga and took about a three in cash\n  I guess that's better than gettin locked up\n  Or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  I got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit\n  So tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\n  Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  Nigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees\n  Ham sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\n  Naked women in tha den playing, hop scotch\n  Thirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\n  So hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\n  I be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\n  Got some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip\n  Met a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\n  If I diss her it'll take a nigga ten lines\n  MJG standing tall and I, won't fold\n  You can have all the bitches, cause I, don't hold\n  On to any woman like a human hand cuff\n  You got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  How many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows\n  Stickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves\n  Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y'all bite\n  Been had a coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\n  Y'all just might seem to skunk eyed, with a girl who chunked thighed\n  Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin about\n  From Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  The deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I'm after\n  No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  The Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major\n  They shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her\n  The player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  Beats by the layers, of music right here to please you\n  But if ain't that dirty then patna see we don't need you\n  You know I'm talkin bout\n  OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\n  It's like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get\n  The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\n  Apart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance\n  So now, throw your filangies in tha ground\n  I'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\n  I found negatives niggas they only keep ya down\n  Transmitting from Native American burial grounds\n  I carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads\n  Um post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad\n  Serious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then\n  Buddy roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work\n  So she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast\n  Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker\n  Word to the motherfucker!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n"},{"id":37067986,"name":"Throw Your Hands Up","trackName":"Throw Your Hands Up","artistName":"8Ball & MJG feat. OutKast","albumName":"We Are the South: Greatest Hits","duration":325.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\nkeep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\nMy player ways keep me with plenty dimes\nSee I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\nWhen a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z\nAll night on the block til the sun rise\nMy only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\nFour five in the mornin it don't stop\nDay dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)\nBlue lights snap me back to reality\nI hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\nTricks ain't got shit to do but harass\nSearch tha nigga and took about a three in cash\nI guess that's better than gettin locked up\nOr gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nI got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit\nSo tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\nDice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\nNigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees\nHam sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\nNaked women in tha den playing, hop scotch\nThirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\nSo hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\nI be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\nGot some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip\nMet a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\nIf I diss her it'll take a nigga ten lines\nMJG standing tall and I, won't fold\nYou can have all the bitches, cause I, don't hold\nOn to any woman like a human hand cuff\nYou got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nHow many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows\nStickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves\nLike nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y'all bite\nBeen had a coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\nY'all just might seem to skunk eyed, with a girl who chunked thighed\nBelow the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin about\nFrom Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\nThe deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I'm after\nNo laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\nThe Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major\nThey shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her\nThe player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker\nBeats by the layers, of music right here to please you\nBut if ain't that dirty then patna see we don't need you\nYou know I'm talkin bout\nOutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\nYou wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\nIt's like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get\nThe closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\nApart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance\nSo now, throw your filangies in tha ground\nI'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\nI found negatives niggas they only keep ya down\nTransmitting from Native American burial grounds\nI carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads\nUm post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad\nSerious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then\nBuddy roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work\nSo she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast\nWord to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker\nWord to the motherfucker!\nNow I heard that the South is where yo folks from\nDown in the bottoms where they broke some\nWhips cross a nigga back, way back\nAnd now they wonder why we act, how we act\nGold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\nAfros & loud ass Italian clothes\nPeople bar-be-quein in the front yard\nMoney from the first of the month card\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\nIf anybody out their feel me get ya hands up","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands Up\n  artist: 8Ball & MJG feat. OutKast\n  album: 'We Are the South: Greatest Hits'\n  duration_ms: 325000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch, I ain't got nothing but time, so I'mma get out on these cuts and grind\n  keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine\n  My player ways keep me with plenty dimes\n  See I'mma shine like all six of my gold teeth\n  When a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z\n  All night on the block til the sun rise\n  My only friend is a Glock with the 4-5\n  Four five in the mornin it don't stop\n  Day dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop)\n  Blue lights snap me back to reality\n  I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me\n  Tricks ain't got shit to do but harass\n  Search tha nigga and took about a three in cash\n  I guess that's better than gettin locked up\n  Or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  I got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit\n  So tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite\n  Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee\n  Nigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees\n  Ham sam'ich in the driveway, drop top\n  Naked women in tha den playing, hop scotch\n  Thirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone\n  So hit me and I'mma keep my, phone on\n  I be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth\n  Got some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip\n  Met a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times\n  If I diss her it'll take a nigga ten lines\n  MJG standing tall and I, won't fold\n  You can have all the bitches, cause I, don't hold\n  On to any woman like a human hand cuff\n  You got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  How many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows\n  Stickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves\n  Like nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y'all bite\n  Been had a coke and a smile, now I'm trippin off Yak & Sprite\n  Y'all just might seem to skunk eyed, with a girl who chunked thighed\n  Below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I'm talkin about\n  From Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah\n  The deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I'm after\n  No laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious\n  The Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major\n  They shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her\n  The player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker\n  Beats by the layers, of music right here to please you\n  But if ain't that dirty then patna see we don't need you\n  You know I'm talkin bout\n  OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y'all punk motherfuckers!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up!\n  You wouldn't understand, if you stood under it (ooh)\n  It's like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get\n  The closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand\n  Apart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance\n  So now, throw your filangies in tha ground\n  I'm still abound, un-believers stay from hell around\n  I found negatives niggas they only keep ya down\n  Transmitting from Native American burial grounds\n  I carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads\n  Um post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad\n  Serious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then\n  Buddy roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work\n  So she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast\n  Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker\n  Word to the motherfucker!\n  Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from\n  Down in the bottoms where they broke some\n  Whips cross a nigga back, way back\n  And now they wonder why we act, how we act\n  Gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow\n  Afros & loud ass Italian clothes\n  People bar-be-quein in the front yard\n  Money from the first of the month card\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up\n  If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up\n"}]