[{"id":19748176,"name":"Generation Next","trackName":"Generation Next","artistName":"9th Prince","albumName":"Granddaddy Flow","duration":272.68,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Islord, Ruthless Bastards, T.M.F.)\n\n[Islord]\nAiyo I want all y'all niggaz out there in this rap shit\nClaimin' y'all rappers\nY'all niggaz ain't no fuckin' MC's\nKnowwhatI'msayin', son?\nCuz once you step into the chamber\nCuz we dealin' with the 7th Chamber.\n\nAiyo\nWitness this homocide lyrical specialist\nOnce I slide on the set like Mt. Everest\nAvalanches, causin' total mayhem\nIn this rap industry, towards any non-descript rapper\nWho has the strongest heart, and dares to challenge the God?\nDart for dart, that's the wrong move\nLike one cat with a red shirt, stumblin' in a problem\nTen cats with blue shirts, each one of 'em\nLugered out with clips filled to the brim with hollow points\nCuz I'm on some, fuck all y'all RB artist-es\nThinkin' y'all MC's, y'all best to Run 4 Cover\nAnd throw ya bulletproof helmets on ya head\nEnough said.\n\n[Infrared]\nI spit warfare, real shit niggaz like to hear\nInfrared from Ruthless, nigga, crack them beers\nTwist the 'dro, put the clip in the fo'\nCock it back, put one in the head, these niggaz don't know?\nThen let 'em know how we comin'\nDeep, we keep shook niggaz runnin'\nYou cowards is afraid of my power, ain't holdin' nuttin'\nLemme show you somethin', 'bout this rap shit\nFirst of all if you ain't spittin' acid, you goin' backwards\nThese Bastards attack shit, fabulous, fatherless\nMarvelous, Shaolin niggaz from stompin' wood\nKillarm', T.M.F. connect with Ruthless\nChallenge new generation, nigga, we the best\nWe out for this cheddar cheese\nYou better freeze if we enemies\nIf ya life's on the line you better squeeze\nYo I'm tellin' these wannabeez, about the ho's\nCome out ya shoes, we ain't got nuttin' to lose\n\n[Trife]\nAiyo I floss like a red Porsche beamin' in the sunset\nYou made a dumb bet fuckin' with these young vets\nWho bumped heads with the hardest and build with the smartest\nFive artists, you can't do nuttin' to part us\nNiggaz is garbage that either get bagged up\nCuz their style's ragged up lookin' like sad pups\nYou'll be jacked up, weakened with your eyes half shut\n'Til you had enough cuz fuckin' with us is bad luck\nThe temptation of pussy be hard to pass up\nSo before I slide in I test the cat and strap up\nIs there a question? You gotta ask us\nDon't be afraid, but on my behalf you're gettin' played\nAnd where you was at, you shoulda stayed\nNow you search for aid, no one to save you\nAnd all your so-called men betrayed you\nThey wantin' to talk and work deals under the table\nPassin' 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables\nThey snaked you, like the serpent\nTurn the lights off and close the curtain\nSellin' their soul to a merchant\nI got niggaz, scared to, meet me in person\nSearchin', like the Internet, I got 'em surfin'\n\n[Chorus: Tommy Whispers]\nNow Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill\nStapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz\nIn Shaolin we keep it real\nShit is gettin' deep, reach for steel\nWe goin' all out, do what you feel\n\n[Truck]\nI stick and move, move and stick with niggaz\nIf it's real I click with niggaz\nLayin' all the fifth with niggaz, sick of niggaz\nSimple lickin' and squeeze faster than with triggas\nDouble dare any niggaz, cross me and my city slickers\nPetty pocket pickers rockin' niggaz\nQuick to throw a rock at the bitches\nTryin' to cockblock my riches on a hot block with snitches\nStill gettin' dough, still gettin' hated on the low\nStill doin' sticks with Sideshow, eyes low from hydro\nDrive slow, beasts on our tail, rain, sleet or hail\nCatch me on these cold streets stabbin' for bail\nNiggaz is lackin' the real so I brought the hostility\nBetter off killin' me then sendin' me back 'fore I fail\n\n[9th Prince]\nAiyo thugs and rubber clips with hollow joints\nSharp lead that fled through your pressure points\nCelebrity Death Match, we out like an axe\nBein' swung by a serial killer maniac\nPoetry brainiac, project hoodrats\nThey enjoyin' hearin' my album\nBlack dust will get you blast\nThen throw on a skimask and rob street's asylum\n9th Prince, y'all niggaz can't solve him\nThese 9 Fingers of Death'll be the answer to your problems\nMy roof is like an infrared, I'm hostile\nNo Smiles, dogs cry when they're on trial\nRhymes travel 23 million square miles\nMad razor blades, throwin' switchblades that'll cut you a fade\nLyrical maze, MC's lost for days\nWithin the 9th Chamber, another Wu banga\nFor all my Killah Hill side stranglaz\n\n[Chorus x2]\n\n[Outro: Tommy Whispers]\nTommy Whispers, nigga\nBastards! Word is bond, come on!\nRevenge of the 9 Fingers\nThe Chamber continues\nWord up\nEverything is Everything\nGarvey the Kid\nThis Shaolin shit is forever!\nForever.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Generation Next\n  artist: 9th Prince\n  album: Granddaddy Flow\n  duration_ms: 272680\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (feat. Islord, Ruthless Bastards, T.M.F.)\n\n  [Islord]\n  Aiyo I want all y'all niggaz out there in this rap shit\n  Claimin' y'all rappers\n  Y'all niggaz ain't no fuckin' MC's\n  KnowwhatI'msayin', son?\n  Cuz once you step into the chamber\n  Cuz we dealin' with the 7th Chamber.\n\n  Aiyo\n  Witness this homocide lyrical specialist\n  Once I slide on the set like Mt. Everest\n  Avalanches, causin' total mayhem\n  In this rap industry, towards any non-descript rapper\n  Who has the strongest heart, and dares to challenge the God?\n  Dart for dart, that's the wrong move\n  Like one cat with a red shirt, stumblin' in a problem\n  Ten cats with blue shirts, each one of 'em\n  Lugered out with clips filled to the brim with hollow points\n  Cuz I'm on some, fuck all y'all RB artist-es\n  Thinkin' y'all MC's, y'all best to Run 4 Cover\n  And throw ya bulletproof helmets on ya head\n  Enough said.\n\n  [Infrared]\n  I spit warfare, real shit niggaz like to hear\n  Infrared from Ruthless, nigga, crack them beers\n  Twist the 'dro, put the clip in the fo'\n  Cock it back, put one in the head, these niggaz don't know?\n  Then let 'em know how we comin'\n  Deep, we keep shook niggaz runnin'\n  You cowards is afraid of my power, ain't holdin' nuttin'\n  Lemme show you somethin', 'bout this rap shit\n  First of all if you ain't spittin' acid, you goin' backwards\n  These Bastards attack shit, fabulous, fatherless\n  Marvelous, Shaolin niggaz from stompin' wood\n  Killarm', T.M.F. connect with Ruthless\n  Challenge new generation, nigga, we the best\n  We out for this cheddar cheese\n  You better freeze if we enemies\n  If ya life's on the line you better squeeze\n  Yo I'm tellin' these wannabeez, about the ho's\n  Come out ya shoes, we ain't got nuttin' to lose\n\n  [Trife]\n  Aiyo I floss like a red Porsche beamin' in the sunset\n  You made a dumb bet fuckin' with these young vets\n  Who bumped heads with the hardest and build with the smartest\n  Five artists, you can't do nuttin' to part us\n  Niggaz is garbage that either get bagged up\n  Cuz their style's ragged up lookin' like sad pups\n  You'll be jacked up, weakened with your eyes half shut\n  'Til you had enough cuz fuckin' with us is bad luck\n  The temptation of pussy be hard to pass up\n  So before I slide in I test the cat and strap up\n  Is there a question? You gotta ask us\n  Don't be afraid, but on my behalf you're gettin' played\n  And where you was at, you shoulda stayed\n  Now you search for aid, no one to save you\n  And all your so-called men betrayed you\n  They wantin' to talk and work deals under the table\n  Passin' 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables\n  They snaked you, like the serpent\n  Turn the lights off and close the curtain\n  Sellin' their soul to a merchant\n  I got niggaz, scared to, meet me in person\n  Searchin', like the Internet, I got 'em surfin'\n\n  [Chorus: Tommy Whispers]\n  Now Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill\n  Stapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz\n  In Shaolin we keep it real\n  Shit is gettin' deep, reach for steel\n  We goin' all out, do what you feel\n\n  [Truck]\n  I stick and move, move and stick with niggaz\n  If it's real I click with niggaz\n  Layin' all the fifth with niggaz, sick of niggaz\n  Simple lickin' and squeeze faster than with triggas\n  Double dare any niggaz, cross me and my city slickers\n  Petty pocket pickers rockin' niggaz\n  Quick to throw a rock at the bitches\n  Tryin' to cockblock my riches on a hot block with snitches\n  Still gettin' dough, still gettin' hated on the low\n  Still doin' sticks with Sideshow, eyes low from hydro\n  Drive slow, beasts on our tail, rain, sleet or hail\n  Catch me on these cold streets stabbin' for bail\n  Niggaz is lackin' the real so I brought the hostility\n  Better off killin' me then sendin' me back 'fore I fail\n\n  [9th Prince]\n  Aiyo thugs and rubber clips with hollow joints\n  Sharp lead that fled through your pressure points\n  Celebrity Death Match, we out like an axe\n  Bein' swung by a serial killer maniac\n  Poetry brainiac, project hoodrats\n  They enjoyin' hearin' my album\n  Black dust will get you blast\n  Then throw on a skimask and rob street's asylum\n  9th Prince, y'all niggaz can't solve him\n  These 9 Fingers of Death'll be the answer to your problems\n  My roof is like an infrared, I'm hostile\n  No Smiles, dogs cry when they're on trial\n  Rhymes travel 23 million square miles\n  Mad razor blades, throwin' switchblades that'll cut you a fade\n  Lyrical maze, MC's lost for days\n  Within the 9th Chamber, another Wu banga\n  For all my Killah Hill side stranglaz\n\n  [Chorus x2]\n\n  [Outro: Tommy Whispers]\n  Tommy Whispers, nigga\n  Bastards! Word is bond, come on!\n  Revenge of the 9 Fingers\n  The Chamber continues\n  Word up\n  Everything is Everything\n  Garvey the Kid\n  This Shaolin shit is forever!\n  Forever.\n"},{"id":39950305,"name":"Generation next (feat. Killarm","trackName":"Generation next (feat. Killarm","artistName":"9th Prince","albumName":"Granddaddy Flow","duration":273.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Islord, Ruthless Bastards, T.M.F.)\n\n[Islord]\nAiyo I want all y'all niggaz out there in this rap shit\nClaimin' y'all rappers\nY'all niggaz ain't no fuckin' MC's\nKnowwhatI'msayin', son?\nCuz once you step into the chamber\nCuz we dealin' with the 7th Chamber.\n\nAiyo\nWitness this homocide lyrical specialist\nOnce I slide on the set like Mt. Everest\nAvalanches, causin' total mayhem\nIn this rap industry, towards any non-descript rapper\nWho has the strongest heart, and dares to challenge the God?\nDart for dart, that's the wrong move\nLike one cat with a red shirt, stumblin' in a problem\nTen cats with blue shirts, each one of 'em\nLugered out with clips filled to the brim with hollow points\nCuz I'm on some, fuck all y'all RB artist-es\nThinkin' y'all MC's, y'all best to Run 4 Cover\nAnd throw ya bulletproof helmets on ya head\nEnough said.\n\n[Infrared]\nI spit warfare, real shit niggaz like to hear\nInfrared from Ruthless, nigga, crack them beers\nTwist the 'dro, put the clip in the fo'\nCock it back, put one in the head, these niggaz don't know?\nThen let 'em know how we comin'\nDeep, we keep shook niggaz runnin'\nYou cowards is afraid of my power, ain't holdin' nuttin'\nLemme show you somethin', 'bout this rap shit\nFirst of all if you ain't spittin' acid, you goin' backwards\nThese Bastards attack shit, fabulous, fatherless\nMarvelous, Shaolin niggaz from stompin' wood\nKillarm', T.M.F. connect with Ruthless\nChallenge new generation, nigga, we the best\nWe out for this cheddar cheese\nYou better freeze if we enemies\nIf ya life's on the line you better squeeze\nYo I'm tellin' these wannabeez, about the ho's\nCome out ya shoes, we ain't got nuttin' to lose\n\n[Trife]\nAiyo I floss like a red Porsche beamin' in the sunset\nYou made a dumb bet fuckin' with these young vets\nWho bumped heads with the hardest and build with the smartest\nFive artists, you can't do nuttin' to part us\nNiggaz is garbage that either get bagged up\nCuz their style's ragged up lookin' like sad pups\nYou'll be jacked up, weakened with your eyes half shut\n'Til you had enough cuz fuckin' with us is bad luck\nThe temptation of pussy be hard to pass up\nSo before I slide in I test the cat and strap up\nIs there a question? You gotta ask us\nDon't be afraid, but on my behalf you're gettin' played\nAnd where you was at, you shoulda stayed\nNow you search for aid, no one to save you\nAnd all your so-called men betrayed you\nThey wantin' to talk and work deals under the table\nPassin' 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables\nThey snaked you, like the serpent\nTurn the lights off and close the curtain\nSellin' their soul to a merchant\nI got niggaz, scared to, meet me in person\nSearchin', like the Internet, I got 'em surfin'\n\n[Chorus: Tommy Whispers]\nNow Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill\nStapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz\nIn Shaolin we keep it real\nShit is gettin' deep, reach for steel\nWe goin' all out, do what you feel\n\n[Truck]\nI stick and move, move and stick with niggaz\nIf it's real I click with niggaz\nLayin' all the fifth with niggaz, sick of niggaz\nSimple lickin' and squeeze faster than with triggas\nDouble dare any niggaz, cross me and my city slickers\nPetty pocket pickers rockin' niggaz\nQuick to throw a rock at the bitches\nTryin' to cockblock my riches on a hot block with snitches\nStill gettin' dough, still gettin' hated on the low\nStill doin' sticks with Sideshow, eyes low from hydro\nDrive slow, beasts on our tail, rain, sleet or hail\nCatch me on these cold streets stabbin' for bail\nNiggaz is lackin' the real so I brought the hostility\nBetter off killin' me then sendin' me back 'fore I fail\n\n[9th Prince]\nAiyo thugs and rubber clips with hollow joints\nSharp lead that fled through your pressure points\nCelebrity Death Match, we out like an axe\nBein' swung by a serial killer maniac\nPoetry brainiac, project hoodrats\nThey enjoyin' hearin' my album\nBlack dust will get you blast\nThen throw on a skimask and rob street's asylum\n9th Prince, y'all niggaz can't solve him\nThese 9 Fingers of Death'll be the answer to your problems\nMy roof is like an infrared, I'm hostile\nNo Smiles, dogs cry when they're on trial\nRhymes travel 23 million square miles\nMad razor blades, throwin' switchblades that'll cut you a fade\nLyrical maze, MC's lost for days\nWithin the 9th Chamber, another Wu banga\nFor all my Killah Hill side stranglaz\n\n[Chorus x2]\n\n[Outro: Tommy Whispers]\nTommy Whispers, nigga\nBastards! Word is bond, come on!\nRevenge of the 9 Fingers\nThe Chamber continues\nWord up\nEverything is Everything\nGarvey the Kid\nThis Shaolin shit is forever!\nForever.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Generation next (feat. Killarm\n  artist: 9th Prince\n  album: Granddaddy Flow\n  duration_ms: 272729\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (feat. Islord, Ruthless Bastards, T.M.F.)\n\n  [Islord]\n  Aiyo I want all y'all niggaz out there in this rap shit\n  Claimin' y'all rappers\n  Y'all niggaz ain't no fuckin' MC's\n  KnowwhatI'msayin', son?\n  Cuz once you step into the chamber\n  Cuz we dealin' with the 7th Chamber.\n\n  Aiyo\n  Witness this homocide lyrical specialist\n  Once I slide on the set like Mt. Everest\n  Avalanches, causin' total mayhem\n  In this rap industry, towards any non-descript rapper\n  Who has the strongest heart, and dares to challenge the God?\n  Dart for dart, that's the wrong move\n  Like one cat with a red shirt, stumblin' in a problem\n  Ten cats with blue shirts, each one of 'em\n  Lugered out with clips filled to the brim with hollow points\n  Cuz I'm on some, fuck all y'all RB artist-es\n  Thinkin' y'all MC's, y'all best to Run 4 Cover\n  And throw ya bulletproof helmets on ya head\n  Enough said.\n\n  [Infrared]\n  I spit warfare, real shit niggaz like to hear\n  Infrared from Ruthless, nigga, crack them beers\n  Twist the 'dro, put the clip in the fo'\n  Cock it back, put one in the head, these niggaz don't know?\n  Then let 'em know how we comin'\n  Deep, we keep shook niggaz runnin'\n  You cowards is afraid of my power, ain't holdin' nuttin'\n  Lemme show you somethin', 'bout this rap shit\n  First of all if you ain't spittin' acid, you goin' backwards\n  These Bastards attack shit, fabulous, fatherless\n  Marvelous, Shaolin niggaz from stompin' wood\n  Killarm', T.M.F. connect with Ruthless\n  Challenge new generation, nigga, we the best\n  We out for this cheddar cheese\n  You better freeze if we enemies\n  If ya life's on the line you better squeeze\n  Yo I'm tellin' these wannabeez, about the ho's\n  Come out ya shoes, we ain't got nuttin' to lose\n\n  [Trife]\n  Aiyo I floss like a red Porsche beamin' in the sunset\n  You made a dumb bet fuckin' with these young vets\n  Who bumped heads with the hardest and build with the smartest\n  Five artists, you can't do nuttin' to part us\n  Niggaz is garbage that either get bagged up\n  Cuz their style's ragged up lookin' like sad pups\n  You'll be jacked up, weakened with your eyes half shut\n  'Til you had enough cuz fuckin' with us is bad luck\n  The temptation of pussy be hard to pass up\n  So before I slide in I test the cat and strap up\n  Is there a question? You gotta ask us\n  Don't be afraid, but on my behalf you're gettin' played\n  And where you was at, you shoulda stayed\n  Now you search for aid, no one to save you\n  And all your so-called men betrayed you\n  They wantin' to talk and work deals under the table\n  Passin' 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables\n  They snaked you, like the serpent\n  Turn the lights off and close the curtain\n  Sellin' their soul to a merchant\n  I got niggaz, scared to, meet me in person\n  Searchin', like the Internet, I got 'em surfin'\n\n  [Chorus: Tommy Whispers]\n  Now Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill\n  Stapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz\n  In Shaolin we keep it real\n  Shit is gettin' deep, reach for steel\n  We goin' all out, do what you feel\n\n  [Truck]\n  I stick and move, move and stick with niggaz\n  If it's real I click with niggaz\n  Layin' all the fifth with niggaz, sick of niggaz\n  Simple lickin' and squeeze faster than with triggas\n  Double dare any niggaz, cross me and my city slickers\n  Petty pocket pickers rockin' niggaz\n  Quick to throw a rock at the bitches\n  Tryin' to cockblock my riches on a hot block with snitches\n  Still gettin' dough, still gettin' hated on the low\n  Still doin' sticks with Sideshow, eyes low from hydro\n  Drive slow, beasts on our tail, rain, sleet or hail\n  Catch me on these cold streets stabbin' for bail\n  Niggaz is lackin' the real so I brought the hostility\n  Better off killin' me then sendin' me back 'fore I fail\n\n  [9th Prince]\n  Aiyo thugs and rubber clips with hollow joints\n  Sharp lead that fled through your pressure points\n  Celebrity Death Match, we out like an axe\n  Bein' swung by a serial killer maniac\n  Poetry brainiac, project hoodrats\n  They enjoyin' hearin' my album\n  Black dust will get you blast\n  Then throw on a skimask and rob street's asylum\n  9th Prince, y'all niggaz can't solve him\n  These 9 Fingers of Death'll be the answer to your problems\n  My roof is like an infrared, I'm hostile\n  No Smiles, dogs cry when they're on trial\n  Rhymes travel 23 million square miles\n  Mad razor blades, throwin' switchblades that'll cut you a fade\n  Lyrical maze, MC's lost for days\n  Within the 9th Chamber, another Wu banga\n  For all my Killah Hill side stranglaz\n\n  [Chorus x2]\n\n  [Outro: Tommy Whispers]\n  Tommy Whispers, nigga\n  Bastards! Word is bond, come on!\n  Revenge of the 9 Fingers\n  The Chamber continues\n  Word up\n  Everything is Everything\n  Garvey the Kid\n  This Shaolin shit is forever!\n  Forever.\n"},{"id":26062024,"name":"Generation Next (feat. Killarmy & T.M.F.)","trackName":"Generation Next (feat. Killarmy & T.M.F.)","artistName":"9th Prince","albumName":"Granddaddy Flow","duration":272.728542,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Islord, Ruthless Bastards, T.M.F.)\n\n[Islord]\nAiyo I want all y'all niggaz out there in this rap shit\nClaimin' y'all rappers\nY'all niggaz ain't no fuckin' MC's\nKnowwhatI'msayin', son?\nCuz once you step into the chamber\nCuz we dealin' with the 7th Chamber.\n\nAiyo\nWitness this homocide lyrical specialist\nOnce I slide on the set like Mt. Everest\nAvalanches, causin' total mayhem\nIn this rap industry, towards any non-descript rapper\nWho has the strongest heart, and dares to challenge the God?\nDart for dart, that's the wrong move\nLike one cat with a red shirt, stumblin' in a problem\nTen cats with blue shirts, each one of 'em\nLugered out with clips filled to the brim with hollow points\nCuz I'm on some, fuck all y'all RB artist-es\nThinkin' y'all MC's, y'all best to Run 4 Cover\nAnd throw ya bulletproof helmets on ya head\nEnough said.\n\n[Infrared]\nI spit warfare, real shit niggaz like to hear\nInfrared from Ruthless, nigga, crack them beers\nTwist the 'dro, put the clip in the fo'\nCock it back, put one in the head, these niggaz don't know?\nThen let 'em know how we comin'\nDeep, we keep shook niggaz runnin'\nYou cowards is afraid of my power, ain't holdin' nuttin'\nLemme show you somethin', 'bout this rap shit\nFirst of all if you ain't spittin' acid, you goin' backwards\nThese Bastards attack shit, fabulous, fatherless\nMarvelous, Shaolin niggaz from stompin' wood\nKillarm', T.M.F. connect with Ruthless\nChallenge new generation, nigga, we the best\nWe out for this cheddar cheese\nYou better freeze if we enemies\nIf ya life's on the line you better squeeze\nYo I'm tellin' these wannabeez, about the ho's\nCome out ya shoes, we ain't got nuttin' to lose\n\n[Trife]\nAiyo I floss like a red Porsche beamin' in the sunset\nYou made a dumb bet fuckin' with these young vets\nWho bumped heads with the hardest and build with the smartest\nFive artists, you can't do nuttin' to part us\nNiggaz is garbage that either get bagged up\nCuz their style's ragged up lookin' like sad pups\nYou'll be jacked up, weakened with your eyes half shut\n'Til you had enough cuz fuckin' with us is bad luck\nThe temptation of pussy be hard to pass up\nSo before I slide in I test the cat and strap up\nIs there a question? You gotta ask us\nDon't be afraid, but on my behalf you're gettin' played\nAnd where you was at, you shoulda stayed\nNow you search for aid, no one to save you\nAnd all your so-called men betrayed you\nThey wantin' to talk and work deals under the table\nPassin' 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables\nThey snaked you, like the serpent\nTurn the lights off and close the curtain\nSellin' their soul to a merchant\nI got niggaz, scared to, meet me in person\nSearchin', like the Internet, I got 'em surfin'\n\n[Chorus: Tommy Whispers]\nNow Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill\nStapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz\nIn Shaolin we keep it real\nShit is gettin' deep, reach for steel\nWe goin' all out, do what you feel\n\n[Truck]\nI stick and move, move and stick with niggaz\nIf it's real I click with niggaz\nLayin' all the fifth with niggaz, sick of niggaz\nSimple lickin' and squeeze faster than with triggas\nDouble dare any niggaz, cross me and my city slickers\nPetty pocket pickers rockin' niggaz\nQuick to throw a rock at the bitches\nTryin' to cockblock my riches on a hot block with snitches\nStill gettin' dough, still gettin' hated on the low\nStill doin' sticks with Sideshow, eyes low from hydro\nDrive slow, beasts on our tail, rain, sleet or hail\nCatch me on these cold streets stabbin' for bail\nNiggaz is lackin' the real so I brought the hostility\nBetter off killin' me then sendin' me back 'fore I fail\n\n[9th Prince]\nAiyo thugs and rubber clips with hollow joints\nSharp lead that fled through your pressure points\nCelebrity Death Match, we out like an axe\nBein' swung by a serial killer maniac\nPoetry brainiac, project hoodrats\nThey enjoyin' hearin' my album\nBlack dust will get you blast\nThen throw on a skimask and rob street's asylum\n9th Prince, y'all niggaz can't solve him\nThese 9 Fingers of Death'll be the answer to your problems\nMy roof is like an infrared, I'm hostile\nNo Smiles, dogs cry when they're on trial\nRhymes travel 23 million square miles\nMad razor blades, throwin' switchblades that'll cut you a fade\nLyrical maze, MC's lost for days\nWithin the 9th Chamber, another Wu banga\nFor all my Killah Hill side stranglaz\n\n[Chorus x2]\n\n[Outro: Tommy Whispers]\nTommy Whispers, nigga\nBastards! Word is bond, come on!\nRevenge of the 9 Fingers\nThe Chamber continues\nWord up\nEverything is Everything\nGarvey the Kid\nThis Shaolin shit is forever!\nForever.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Generation Next (feat. Killarmy & T.M.F.)\n  artist: 9th Prince\n  album: Granddaddy Flow\n  duration_ms: 272729\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (feat. Islord, Ruthless Bastards, T.M.F.)\n\n  [Islord]\n  Aiyo I want all y'all niggaz out there in this rap shit\n  Claimin' y'all rappers\n  Y'all niggaz ain't no fuckin' MC's\n  KnowwhatI'msayin', son?\n  Cuz once you step into the chamber\n  Cuz we dealin' with the 7th Chamber.\n\n  Aiyo\n  Witness this homocide lyrical specialist\n  Once I slide on the set like Mt. Everest\n  Avalanches, causin' total mayhem\n  In this rap industry, towards any non-descript rapper\n  Who has the strongest heart, and dares to challenge the God?\n  Dart for dart, that's the wrong move\n  Like one cat with a red shirt, stumblin' in a problem\n  Ten cats with blue shirts, each one of 'em\n  Lugered out with clips filled to the brim with hollow points\n  Cuz I'm on some, fuck all y'all RB artist-es\n  Thinkin' y'all MC's, y'all best to Run 4 Cover\n  And throw ya bulletproof helmets on ya head\n  Enough said.\n\n  [Infrared]\n  I spit warfare, real shit niggaz like to hear\n  Infrared from Ruthless, nigga, crack them beers\n  Twist the 'dro, put the clip in the fo'\n  Cock it back, put one in the head, these niggaz don't know?\n  Then let 'em know how we comin'\n  Deep, we keep shook niggaz runnin'\n  You cowards is afraid of my power, ain't holdin' nuttin'\n  Lemme show you somethin', 'bout this rap shit\n  First of all if you ain't spittin' acid, you goin' backwards\n  These Bastards attack shit, fabulous, fatherless\n  Marvelous, Shaolin niggaz from stompin' wood\n  Killarm', T.M.F. connect with Ruthless\n  Challenge new generation, nigga, we the best\n  We out for this cheddar cheese\n  You better freeze if we enemies\n  If ya life's on the line you better squeeze\n  Yo I'm tellin' these wannabeez, about the ho's\n  Come out ya shoes, we ain't got nuttin' to lose\n\n  [Trife]\n  Aiyo I floss like a red Porsche beamin' in the sunset\n  You made a dumb bet fuckin' with these young vets\n  Who bumped heads with the hardest and build with the smartest\n  Five artists, you can't do nuttin' to part us\n  Niggaz is garbage that either get bagged up\n  Cuz their style's ragged up lookin' like sad pups\n  You'll be jacked up, weakened with your eyes half shut\n  'Til you had enough cuz fuckin' with us is bad luck\n  The temptation of pussy be hard to pass up\n  So before I slide in I test the cat and strap up\n  Is there a question? You gotta ask us\n  Don't be afraid, but on my behalf you're gettin' played\n  And where you was at, you shoulda stayed\n  Now you search for aid, no one to save you\n  And all your so-called men betrayed you\n  They wantin' to talk and work deals under the table\n  Passin' 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables\n  They snaked you, like the serpent\n  Turn the lights off and close the curtain\n  Sellin' their soul to a merchant\n  I got niggaz, scared to, meet me in person\n  Searchin', like the Internet, I got 'em surfin'\n\n  [Chorus: Tommy Whispers]\n  Now Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill\n  Stapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz\n  In Shaolin we keep it real\n  Shit is gettin' deep, reach for steel\n  We goin' all out, do what you feel\n\n  [Truck]\n  I stick and move, move and stick with niggaz\n  If it's real I click with niggaz\n  Layin' all the fifth with niggaz, sick of niggaz\n  Simple lickin' and squeeze faster than with triggas\n  Double dare any niggaz, cross me and my city slickers\n  Petty pocket pickers rockin' niggaz\n  Quick to throw a rock at the bitches\n  Tryin' to cockblock my riches on a hot block with snitches\n  Still gettin' dough, still gettin' hated on the low\n  Still doin' sticks with Sideshow, eyes low from hydro\n  Drive slow, beasts on our tail, rain, sleet or hail\n  Catch me on these cold streets stabbin' for bail\n  Niggaz is lackin' the real so I brought the hostility\n  Better off killin' me then sendin' me back 'fore I fail\n\n  [9th Prince]\n  Aiyo thugs and rubber clips with hollow joints\n  Sharp lead that fled through your pressure points\n  Celebrity Death Match, we out like an axe\n  Bein' swung by a serial killer maniac\n  Poetry brainiac, project hoodrats\n  They enjoyin' hearin' my album\n  Black dust will get you blast\n  Then throw on a skimask and rob street's asylum\n  9th Prince, y'all niggaz can't solve him\n  These 9 Fingers of Death'll be the answer to your problems\n  My roof is like an infrared, I'm hostile\n  No Smiles, dogs cry when they're on trial\n  Rhymes travel 23 million square miles\n  Mad razor blades, throwin' switchblades that'll cut you a fade\n  Lyrical maze, MC's lost for days\n  Within the 9th Chamber, another Wu banga\n  For all my Killah Hill side stranglaz\n\n  [Chorus x2]\n\n  [Outro: Tommy Whispers]\n  Tommy Whispers, nigga\n  Bastards! Word is bond, come on!\n  Revenge of the 9 Fingers\n  The Chamber continues\n  Word up\n  Everything is Everything\n  Garvey the Kid\n  This Shaolin shit is forever!\n  Forever.\n"},{"id":36082380,"name":"Generation Next","trackName":"Generation Next","artistName":"9th Prince Killarmy T.M.F.","albumName":"Granddaddy Flow","duration":273.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Islord, Ruthless Bastards, T.M.F.)\n\n[Islord]\nAiyo I want all y'all niggaz out there in this rap shit\nClaimin' y'all rappers\nY'all niggaz ain't no fuckin' MC's\nKnowwhatI'msayin', son?\nCuz once you step into the chamber\nCuz we dealin' with the 7th Chamber.\n\nAiyo\nWitness this homocide lyrical specialist\nOnce I slide on the set like Mt. Everest\nAvalanches, causin' total mayhem\nIn this rap industry, towards any non-descript rapper\nWho has the strongest heart, and dares to challenge the God?\nDart for dart, that's the wrong move\nLike one cat with a red shirt, stumblin' in a problem\nTen cats with blue shirts, each one of 'em\nLugered out with clips filled to the brim with hollow points\nCuz I'm on some, fuck all y'all RB artist-es\nThinkin' y'all MC's, y'all best to Run 4 Cover\nAnd throw ya bulletproof helmets on ya head\nEnough said.\n\n[Infrared]\nI spit warfare, real shit niggaz like to hear\nInfrared from Ruthless, nigga, crack them beers\nTwist the 'dro, put the clip in the fo'\nCock it back, put one in the head, these niggaz don't know?\nThen let 'em know how we comin'\nDeep, we keep shook niggaz runnin'\nYou cowards is afraid of my power, ain't holdin' nuttin'\nLemme show you somethin', 'bout this rap shit\nFirst of all if you ain't spittin' acid, you goin' backwards\nThese Bastards attack shit, fabulous, fatherless\nMarvelous, Shaolin niggaz from stompin' wood\nKillarm', T.M.F. connect with Ruthless\nChallenge new generation, nigga, we the best\nWe out for this cheddar cheese\nYou better freeze if we enemies\nIf ya life's on the line you better squeeze\nYo I'm tellin' these wannabeez, about the ho's\nCome out ya shoes, we ain't got nuttin' to lose\n\n[Trife]\nAiyo I floss like a red Porsche beamin' in the sunset\nYou made a dumb bet fuckin' with these young vets\nWho bumped heads with the hardest and build with the smartest\nFive artists, you can't do nuttin' to part us\nNiggaz is garbage that either get bagged up\nCuz their style's ragged up lookin' like sad pups\nYou'll be jacked up, weakened with your eyes half shut\n'Til you had enough cuz fuckin' with us is bad luck\nThe temptation of pussy be hard to pass up\nSo before I slide in I test the cat and strap up\nIs there a question? You gotta ask us\nDon't be afraid, but on my behalf you're gettin' played\nAnd where you was at, you shoulda stayed\nNow you search for aid, no one to save you\nAnd all your so-called men betrayed you\nThey wantin' to talk and work deals under the table\nPassin' 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables\nThey snaked you, like the serpent\nTurn the lights off and close the curtain\nSellin' their soul to a merchant\nI got niggaz, scared to, meet me in person\nSearchin', like the Internet, I got 'em surfin'\n\n[Chorus: Tommy Whispers]\nNow Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill\nStapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz\nIn Shaolin we keep it real\nShit is gettin' deep, reach for steel\nWe goin' all out, do what you feel\n\n[Truck]\nI stick and move, move and stick with niggaz\nIf it's real I click with niggaz\nLayin' all the fifth with niggaz, sick of niggaz\nSimple lickin' and squeeze faster than with triggas\nDouble dare any niggaz, cross me and my city slickers\nPetty pocket pickers rockin' niggaz\nQuick to throw a rock at the bitches\nTryin' to cockblock my riches on a hot block with snitches\nStill gettin' dough, still gettin' hated on the low\nStill doin' sticks with Sideshow, eyes low from hydro\nDrive slow, beasts on our tail, rain, sleet or hail\nCatch me on these cold streets stabbin' for bail\nNiggaz is lackin' the real so I brought the hostility\nBetter off killin' me then sendin' me back 'fore I fail\n\n[9th Prince]\nAiyo thugs and rubber clips with hollow joints\nSharp lead that fled through your pressure points\nCelebrity Death Match, we out like an axe\nBein' swung by a serial killer maniac\nPoetry brainiac, project hoodrats\nThey enjoyin' hearin' my album\nBlack dust will get you blast\nThen throw on a skimask and rob street's asylum\n9th Prince, y'all niggaz can't solve him\nThese 9 Fingers of Death'll be the answer to your problems\nMy roof is like an infrared, I'm hostile\nNo Smiles, dogs cry when they're on trial\nRhymes travel 23 million square miles\nMad razor blades, throwin' switchblades that'll cut you a fade\nLyrical maze, MC's lost for days\nWithin the 9th Chamber, another Wu banga\nFor all my Killah Hill side stranglaz\n\n[Chorus x2]\n\n[Outro: Tommy Whispers]\nTommy Whispers, nigga\nBastards! Word is bond, come on!\nRevenge of the 9 Fingers\nThe Chamber continues\nWord up\nEverything is Everything\nGarvey the Kid\nThis Shaolin shit is forever!\nForever.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Generation Next\n  artist: 9th Prince Killarmy T.M.F.\n  album: Granddaddy Flow\n  duration_ms: 273000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (feat. Islord, Ruthless Bastards, T.M.F.)\n\n  [Islord]\n  Aiyo I want all y'all niggaz out there in this rap shit\n  Claimin' y'all rappers\n  Y'all niggaz ain't no fuckin' MC's\n  KnowwhatI'msayin', son?\n  Cuz once you step into the chamber\n  Cuz we dealin' with the 7th Chamber.\n\n  Aiyo\n  Witness this homocide lyrical specialist\n  Once I slide on the set like Mt. Everest\n  Avalanches, causin' total mayhem\n  In this rap industry, towards any non-descript rapper\n  Who has the strongest heart, and dares to challenge the God?\n  Dart for dart, that's the wrong move\n  Like one cat with a red shirt, stumblin' in a problem\n  Ten cats with blue shirts, each one of 'em\n  Lugered out with clips filled to the brim with hollow points\n  Cuz I'm on some, fuck all y'all RB artist-es\n  Thinkin' y'all MC's, y'all best to Run 4 Cover\n  And throw ya bulletproof helmets on ya head\n  Enough said.\n\n  [Infrared]\n  I spit warfare, real shit niggaz like to hear\n  Infrared from Ruthless, nigga, crack them beers\n  Twist the 'dro, put the clip in the fo'\n  Cock it back, put one in the head, these niggaz don't know?\n  Then let 'em know how we comin'\n  Deep, we keep shook niggaz runnin'\n  You cowards is afraid of my power, ain't holdin' nuttin'\n  Lemme show you somethin', 'bout this rap shit\n  First of all if you ain't spittin' acid, you goin' backwards\n  These Bastards attack shit, fabulous, fatherless\n  Marvelous, Shaolin niggaz from stompin' wood\n  Killarm', T.M.F. connect with Ruthless\n  Challenge new generation, nigga, we the best\n  We out for this cheddar cheese\n  You better freeze if we enemies\n  If ya life's on the line you better squeeze\n  Yo I'm tellin' these wannabeez, about the ho's\n  Come out ya shoes, we ain't got nuttin' to lose\n\n  [Trife]\n  Aiyo I floss like a red Porsche beamin' in the sunset\n  You made a dumb bet fuckin' with these young vets\n  Who bumped heads with the hardest and build with the smartest\n  Five artists, you can't do nuttin' to part us\n  Niggaz is garbage that either get bagged up\n  Cuz their style's ragged up lookin' like sad pups\n  You'll be jacked up, weakened with your eyes half shut\n  'Til you had enough cuz fuckin' with us is bad luck\n  The temptation of pussy be hard to pass up\n  So before I slide in I test the cat and strap up\n  Is there a question? You gotta ask us\n  Don't be afraid, but on my behalf you're gettin' played\n  And where you was at, you shoulda stayed\n  Now you search for aid, no one to save you\n  And all your so-called men betrayed you\n  They wantin' to talk and work deals under the table\n  Passin' 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables\n  They snaked you, like the serpent\n  Turn the lights off and close the curtain\n  Sellin' their soul to a merchant\n  I got niggaz, scared to, meet me in person\n  Searchin', like the Internet, I got 'em surfin'\n\n  [Chorus: Tommy Whispers]\n  Now Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill\n  Stapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz\n  In Shaolin we keep it real\n  Shit is gettin' deep, reach for steel\n  We goin' all out, do what you feel\n\n  [Truck]\n  I stick and move, move and stick with niggaz\n  If it's real I click with niggaz\n  Layin' all the fifth with niggaz, sick of niggaz\n  Simple lickin' and squeeze faster than with triggas\n  Double dare any niggaz, cross me and my city slickers\n  Petty pocket pickers rockin' niggaz\n  Quick to throw a rock at the bitches\n  Tryin' to cockblock my riches on a hot block with snitches\n  Still gettin' dough, still gettin' hated on the low\n  Still doin' sticks with Sideshow, eyes low from hydro\n  Drive slow, beasts on our tail, rain, sleet or hail\n  Catch me on these cold streets stabbin' for bail\n  Niggaz is lackin' the real so I brought the hostility\n  Better off killin' me then sendin' me back 'fore I fail\n\n  [9th Prince]\n  Aiyo thugs and rubber clips with hollow joints\n  Sharp lead that fled through your pressure points\n  Celebrity Death Match, we out like an axe\n  Bein' swung by a serial killer maniac\n  Poetry brainiac, project hoodrats\n  They enjoyin' hearin' my album\n  Black dust will get you blast\n  Then throw on a skimask and rob street's asylum\n  9th Prince, y'all niggaz can't solve him\n  These 9 Fingers of Death'll be the answer to your problems\n  My roof is like an infrared, I'm hostile\n  No Smiles, dogs cry when they're on trial\n  Rhymes travel 23 million square miles\n  Mad razor blades, throwin' switchblades that'll cut you a fade\n  Lyrical maze, MC's lost for days\n  Within the 9th Chamber, another Wu banga\n  For all my Killah Hill side stranglaz\n\n  [Chorus x2]\n\n  [Outro: Tommy Whispers]\n  Tommy Whispers, nigga\n  Bastards! Word is bond, come on!\n  Revenge of the 9 Fingers\n  The Chamber continues\n  Word up\n  Everything is Everything\n  Garvey the Kid\n  This Shaolin shit is forever!\n  Forever.\n"},{"id":38157392,"name":"Generation Next","trackName":"Generation Next","artistName":"9th Prince feat. Killarmy & T.M.F.","albumName":"Granddaddy Flow","duration":273.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Islord, Ruthless Bastards, T.M.F.)\n\n[Islord]\nAiyo I want all y'all niggaz out there in this rap shit\nClaimin' y'all rappers\nY'all niggaz ain't no fuckin' MC's\nKnowwhatI'msayin', son?\nCuz once you step into the chamber\nCuz we dealin' with the 7th Chamber.\n\nAiyo\nWitness this homocide lyrical specialist\nOnce I slide on the set like Mt. Everest\nAvalanches, causin' total mayhem\nIn this rap industry, towards any non-descript rapper\nWho has the strongest heart, and dares to challenge the God?\nDart for dart, that's the wrong move\nLike one cat with a red shirt, stumblin' in a problem\nTen cats with blue shirts, each one of 'em\nLugered out with clips filled to the brim with hollow points\nCuz I'm on some, fuck all y'all RB artist-es\nThinkin' y'all MC's, y'all best to Run 4 Cover\nAnd throw ya bulletproof helmets on ya head\nEnough said.\n\n[Infrared]\nI spit warfare, real shit niggaz like to hear\nInfrared from Ruthless, nigga, crack them beers\nTwist the 'dro, put the clip in the fo'\nCock it back, put one in the head, these niggaz don't know?\nThen let 'em know how we comin'\nDeep, we keep shook niggaz runnin'\nYou cowards is afraid of my power, ain't holdin' nuttin'\nLemme show you somethin', 'bout this rap shit\nFirst of all if you ain't spittin' acid, you goin' backwards\nThese Bastards attack shit, fabulous, fatherless\nMarvelous, Shaolin niggaz from stompin' wood\nKillarm', T.M.F. connect with Ruthless\nChallenge new generation, nigga, we the best\nWe out for this cheddar cheese\nYou better freeze if we enemies\nIf ya life's on the line you better squeeze\nYo I'm tellin' these wannabeez, about the ho's\nCome out ya shoes, we ain't got nuttin' to lose\n\n[Trife]\nAiyo I floss like a red Porsche beamin' in the sunset\nYou made a dumb bet fuckin' with these young vets\nWho bumped heads with the hardest and build with the smartest\nFive artists, you can't do nuttin' to part us\nNiggaz is garbage that either get bagged up\nCuz their style's ragged up lookin' like sad pups\nYou'll be jacked up, weakened with your eyes half shut\n'Til you had enough cuz fuckin' with us is bad luck\nThe temptation of pussy be hard to pass up\nSo before I slide in I test the cat and strap up\nIs there a question? You gotta ask us\nDon't be afraid, but on my behalf you're gettin' played\nAnd where you was at, you shoulda stayed\nNow you search for aid, no one to save you\nAnd all your so-called men betrayed you\nThey wantin' to talk and work deals under the table\nPassin' 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables\nThey snaked you, like the serpent\nTurn the lights off and close the curtain\nSellin' their soul to a merchant\nI got niggaz, scared to, meet me in person\nSearchin', like the Internet, I got 'em surfin'\n\n[Chorus: Tommy Whispers]\nNow Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill\nStapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz\nIn Shaolin we keep it real\nShit is gettin' deep, reach for steel\nWe goin' all out, do what you feel\n\n[Truck]\nI stick and move, move and stick with niggaz\nIf it's real I click with niggaz\nLayin' all the fifth with niggaz, sick of niggaz\nSimple lickin' and squeeze faster than with triggas\nDouble dare any niggaz, cross me and my city slickers\nPetty pocket pickers rockin' niggaz\nQuick to throw a rock at the bitches\nTryin' to cockblock my riches on a hot block with snitches\nStill gettin' dough, still gettin' hated on the low\nStill doin' sticks with Sideshow, eyes low from hydro\nDrive slow, beasts on our tail, rain, sleet or hail\nCatch me on these cold streets stabbin' for bail\nNiggaz is lackin' the real so I brought the hostility\nBetter off killin' me then sendin' me back 'fore I fail\n\n[9th Prince]\nAiyo thugs and rubber clips with hollow joints\nSharp lead that fled through your pressure points\nCelebrity Death Match, we out like an axe\nBein' swung by a serial killer maniac\nPoetry brainiac, project hoodrats\nThey enjoyin' hearin' my album\nBlack dust will get you blast\nThen throw on a skimask and rob street's asylum\n9th Prince, y'all niggaz can't solve him\nThese 9 Fingers of Death'll be the answer to your problems\nMy roof is like an infrared, I'm hostile\nNo Smiles, dogs cry when they're on trial\nRhymes travel 23 million square miles\nMad razor blades, throwin' switchblades that'll cut you a fade\nLyrical maze, MC's lost for days\nWithin the 9th Chamber, another Wu banga\nFor all my Killah Hill side stranglaz\n\n[Chorus x2]\n\n[Outro: Tommy Whispers]\nTommy Whispers, nigga\nBastards! Word is bond, come on!\nRevenge of the 9 Fingers\nThe Chamber continues\nWord up\nEverything is Everything\nGarvey the Kid\nThis Shaolin shit is forever!\nForever.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Generation Next\n  artist: 9th Prince feat. Killarmy & T.M.F.\n  album: Granddaddy Flow\n  duration_ms: 273000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (feat. Islord, Ruthless Bastards, T.M.F.)\n\n  [Islord]\n  Aiyo I want all y'all niggaz out there in this rap shit\n  Claimin' y'all rappers\n  Y'all niggaz ain't no fuckin' MC's\n  KnowwhatI'msayin', son?\n  Cuz once you step into the chamber\n  Cuz we dealin' with the 7th Chamber.\n\n  Aiyo\n  Witness this homocide lyrical specialist\n  Once I slide on the set like Mt. Everest\n  Avalanches, causin' total mayhem\n  In this rap industry, towards any non-descript rapper\n  Who has the strongest heart, and dares to challenge the God?\n  Dart for dart, that's the wrong move\n  Like one cat with a red shirt, stumblin' in a problem\n  Ten cats with blue shirts, each one of 'em\n  Lugered out with clips filled to the brim with hollow points\n  Cuz I'm on some, fuck all y'all RB artist-es\n  Thinkin' y'all MC's, y'all best to Run 4 Cover\n  And throw ya bulletproof helmets on ya head\n  Enough said.\n\n  [Infrared]\n  I spit warfare, real shit niggaz like to hear\n  Infrared from Ruthless, nigga, crack them beers\n  Twist the 'dro, put the clip in the fo'\n  Cock it back, put one in the head, these niggaz don't know?\n  Then let 'em know how we comin'\n  Deep, we keep shook niggaz runnin'\n  You cowards is afraid of my power, ain't holdin' nuttin'\n  Lemme show you somethin', 'bout this rap shit\n  First of all if you ain't spittin' acid, you goin' backwards\n  These Bastards attack shit, fabulous, fatherless\n  Marvelous, Shaolin niggaz from stompin' wood\n  Killarm', T.M.F. connect with Ruthless\n  Challenge new generation, nigga, we the best\n  We out for this cheddar cheese\n  You better freeze if we enemies\n  If ya life's on the line you better squeeze\n  Yo I'm tellin' these wannabeez, about the ho's\n  Come out ya shoes, we ain't got nuttin' to lose\n\n  [Trife]\n  Aiyo I floss like a red Porsche beamin' in the sunset\n  You made a dumb bet fuckin' with these young vets\n  Who bumped heads with the hardest and build with the smartest\n  Five artists, you can't do nuttin' to part us\n  Niggaz is garbage that either get bagged up\n  Cuz their style's ragged up lookin' like sad pups\n  You'll be jacked up, weakened with your eyes half shut\n  'Til you had enough cuz fuckin' with us is bad luck\n  The temptation of pussy be hard to pass up\n  So before I slide in I test the cat and strap up\n  Is there a question? You gotta ask us\n  Don't be afraid, but on my behalf you're gettin' played\n  And where you was at, you shoulda stayed\n  Now you search for aid, no one to save you\n  And all your so-called men betrayed you\n  They wantin' to talk and work deals under the table\n  Passin' 'em CREAM, gold watches and large cables\n  They snaked you, like the serpent\n  Turn the lights off and close the curtain\n  Sellin' their soul to a merchant\n  I got niggaz, scared to, meet me in person\n  Searchin', like the Internet, I got 'em surfin'\n\n  [Chorus: Tommy Whispers]\n  Now Born, Port Richmond, Killah Hill\n  Stapleton, West Brighton, Jungle Nillz\n  In Shaolin we keep it real\n  Shit is gettin' deep, reach for steel\n  We goin' all out, do what you feel\n\n  [Truck]\n  I stick and move, move and stick with niggaz\n  If it's real I click with niggaz\n  Layin' all the fifth with niggaz, sick of niggaz\n  Simple lickin' and squeeze faster than with triggas\n  Double dare any niggaz, cross me and my city slickers\n  Petty pocket pickers rockin' niggaz\n  Quick to throw a rock at the bitches\n  Tryin' to cockblock my riches on a hot block with snitches\n  Still gettin' dough, still gettin' hated on the low\n  Still doin' sticks with Sideshow, eyes low from hydro\n  Drive slow, beasts on our tail, rain, sleet or hail\n  Catch me on these cold streets stabbin' for bail\n  Niggaz is lackin' the real so I brought the hostility\n  Better off killin' me then sendin' me back 'fore I fail\n\n  [9th Prince]\n  Aiyo thugs and rubber clips with hollow joints\n  Sharp lead that fled through your pressure points\n  Celebrity Death Match, we out like an axe\n  Bein' swung by a serial killer maniac\n  Poetry brainiac, project hoodrats\n  They enjoyin' hearin' my album\n  Black dust will get you blast\n  Then throw on a skimask and rob street's asylum\n  9th Prince, y'all niggaz can't solve him\n  These 9 Fingers of Death'll be the answer to your problems\n  My roof is like an infrared, I'm hostile\n  No Smiles, dogs cry when they're on trial\n  Rhymes travel 23 million square miles\n  Mad razor blades, throwin' switchblades that'll cut you a fade\n  Lyrical maze, MC's lost for days\n  Within the 9th Chamber, another Wu banga\n  For all my Killah Hill side stranglaz\n\n  [Chorus x2]\n\n  [Outro: Tommy Whispers]\n  Tommy Whispers, nigga\n  Bastards! Word is bond, come on!\n  Revenge of the 9 Fingers\n  The Chamber continues\n  Word up\n  Everything is Everything\n  Garvey the Kid\n  This Shaolin shit is forever!\n  Forever.\n"}]