[{"id":232439,"name":"Cut","trackName":"Cut","artistName":"BONES","albumName":"PaidProgramming","duration":110.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"Where were you when my world was burning down\nYou say you'd be here but you're nowhere to be found\nNowhere to be found except in my memories\nI hope you cannot breath every time that you think of me\nI'm walking all alone down the road that I used to go\nI'm looking all around, I see faces that I don't know\nTake me away\nCut off my circulation\nI don't want to be here if you're not\nCut off my circulation\nI don't want to be here if you're not","syncedLyrics":"[00:36.71]Where were you when my world was burning down?\n[00:47.07]You say you'd be here, but you're nowhere to be found\n[00:53.40]Nowhere to be found, except in my memories\n[00:57.75]I hope you cannot breathe every time that you think of me\n[01:02.24]I'm walking all alone down the road that I used to go\n[01:06.95]I'm looking all around, I see faces that I don't know\n[01:11.87]Take me away, cut off my circulation\n[01:17.57]I don't wanna be here if you're not\n[01:24.34]Cut off my circulation\n[01:27.77]I don't want to be here if you're not","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Cut\n  artist: BONES\n  album: PaidProgramming\n  duration_ms: 110000\n  instrumental: false\n  language: en\nlines:\n- text: Where were you when my world was burning down?\n  start_ms: 36710\n  end_ms: 46970\n  words:\n  - text: 'Where '\n    start_ms: 36710\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 37450\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 37770\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 37950\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 38270\n  - text: 'world '\n    start_ms: 38550\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 39150\n  - text: 'burning '\n    start_ms: 39730\n  - text: down?\n    start_ms: 40890\n- text: You say you'd be here, but you're nowhere to be found\n  start_ms: 47070\n  end_ms: 53400\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 47070\n  - text: 'say '\n    start_ms: 47525\n  - text: 'you''d '\n    start_ms: 47861\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 48099\n  - text: 'here, '\n    start_ms: 48376\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 48633\n  - text: 'you''re '\n    start_ms: 48949\n  - text: 'nowhere '\n    start_ms: 49187\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 50037\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 50631\n  - text: found\n    start_ms: 51165\n- text: Nowhere to be found, except in my memories\n  start_ms: 53400\n  end_ms: 57710\n  words:\n  - text: 'Nowhere '\n    start_ms: 53400\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 54320\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 54600\n  - text: 'found, '\n    start_ms: 54860\n  - text: 'except '\n    start_ms: 55780\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 56340\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 56560\n  - text: memories\n    start_ms: 56900\n- text: I hope you cannot breathe every time that you think of me\n  start_ms: 57750\n  end_ms: 62240\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 57750\n  - text: 'hope '\n    start_ms: 58327\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 58686\n  - text: 'cannot '\n    start_ms: 58905\n  - text: 'breathe '\n    start_ms: 59462\n  - text: 'every '\n    start_ms: 60179\n  - text: 'time '\n    start_ms: 60597\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 60916\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 61175\n  - text: 'think '\n    start_ms: 61414\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 61812\n  - text: me\n    start_ms: 62031\n- text: I'm walking all alone down the road that I used to go\n  start_ms: 62240\n  end_ms: 66950\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 62240\n  - text: 'walking '\n    start_ms: 62920\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 63440\n  - text: 'alone '\n    start_ms: 63780\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 64600\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 64900\n  - text: 'road '\n    start_ms: 65200\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 65500\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 65880\n  - text: 'used '\n    start_ms: 66060\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 66299\n  - text: go\n    start_ms: 66600\n- text: I'm looking all around, I see faces that I don't know\n  start_ms: 66950\n  end_ms: 71870\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 66950\n  - text: 'looking '\n    start_ms: 67446\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 68061\n  - text: 'around, '\n    start_ms: 68339\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 69251\n  - text: 'see '\n    start_ms: 69430\n  - text: 'faces '\n    start_ms: 69708\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 70263\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 70759\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 70838\n  - text: know\n    start_ms: 71116\n- text: Take me away, cut off my circulation\n  start_ms: 71870\n  end_ms: 77560\n  words:\n  - text: 'Take '\n    start_ms: 71870\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 72330\n  - text: 'away, '\n    start_ms: 72630\n  - text: 'cut '\n    start_ms: 74270\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 74630\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 74850\n  - text: circulation\n    start_ms: 75090\n- text: I don't wanna be here if you're not\n  start_ms: 77570\n  end_ms: 84340\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 77570\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 78029\n  - text: 'wanna '\n    start_ms: 78268\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 78846\n  - text: 'here '\n    start_ms: 79245\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 79764\n  - text: 'you''re '\n    start_ms: 80302\n  - text: not\n    start_ms: 80840\n- text: Cut off my circulation\n  start_ms: 84340\n  end_ms: 87720\n  words:\n  - text: 'Cut '\n    start_ms: 84340\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 84900\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 85160\n  - text: circulation\n    start_ms: 85360\n- text: I don't want to be here if you're not\n  start_ms: 87770\n  end_ms: 91520\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 87770\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 88310\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 88650\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 88950\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 89210\n  - text: 'here '\n    start_ms: 89570\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 90090\n  - text: 'you''re '\n    start_ms: 90230\n  - text: not\n    start_ms: 90610\nplain: |-\n  Where were you when my world was burning down\n  You say you'd be here but you're nowhere to be found\n  Nowhere to be found except in my memories\n  I hope you cannot breath every time that you think of me\n  I'm walking all alone down the road that I used to go\n  I'm looking all around, I see faces that I don't know\n  Take me away\n  Cut off my circulation\n  I don't want to be here if you're not\n  Cut off my circulation\n  I don't want to be here if you're not\n"},{"id":36368428,"name":"Cut","trackName":"Cut","artistName":"BONES","albumName":"The Saddest","duration":110.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Where were you when my world was burning down\nYou say you'd be here but you're nowhere to be found\nNowhere to be found except in my memories\nI hope you cannot breath every time that you think of me\nI'm walking all alone down the road that I used to go\nI'm looking all around, I see faces that I don't know\nTake me away\nCut off my circulation\nI don't want to be here if you're not\nCut off my circulation\nI don't want to be here if you're not","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Cut\n  artist: BONES\n  album: The Saddest\n  duration_ms: 110000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Where were you when my world was burning down\n  You say you'd be here but you're nowhere to be found\n  Nowhere to be found except in my memories\n  I hope you cannot breath every time that you think of me\n  I'm walking all alone down the road that I used to go\n  I'm looking all around, I see faces that I don't know\n  Take me away\n  Cut off my circulation\n  I don't want to be here if you're not\n  Cut off my circulation\n  I don't want to be here if you're not\n"},{"id":3530828,"name":"9. Cut","trackName":"9. Cut","artistName":"BONES","albumName":"PaidProgramming","duration":110.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"Where were you when my world was burning down\nYou say you'd be here but you're no where to be found\nNo where to be found except in my memories\nI hope you cannot breath every time that you think of me\nI'm walking all alone down the road that I used to go\nI'm looking all around, I see faces that I don't know\n\nTake me away\nCut off my circulation\nI don't want to be here if you're not\nCut off my circulation\nI don't want to be here if you're not","syncedLyrics":"[00:36.74] Where were you when my world was burning down\n[00:47.01] You say you'd be here but you're no where to be found\n[00:53.43] No where to be found except in my memories\n[00:57.76] I hope you cannot breath every time that you think of me\n[01:02.25] I'm walking all alone down the road that I used to go\n[01:06.95] I'm looking all around, I see faces that I don't know\n[01:11.80] Take me away\n[01:14.06] Cut off my circulation\n[01:17.50] I don't want to be here if you're not\n[01:24.39] Cut off my circulation\n[01:27.76] I don't want to be here if you're not\n[01:31.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9. Cut\n  artist: BONES\n  album: PaidProgramming\n  duration_ms: 110000\n  instrumental: false\n  language: en\nlines:\n- text: Where were you when my world was burning down?\n  start_ms: 36710\n  end_ms: 46970\n  words:\n  - text: 'Where '\n    start_ms: 36710\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 37450\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 37770\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 37950\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 38270\n  - text: 'world '\n    start_ms: 38550\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 39150\n  - text: 'burning '\n    start_ms: 39730\n  - text: down?\n    start_ms: 40890\n- text: You say you'd be here, but you're nowhere to be found\n  start_ms: 47070\n  end_ms: 53400\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 47070\n  - text: 'say '\n    start_ms: 47525\n  - text: 'you''d '\n    start_ms: 47861\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 48099\n  - text: 'here, '\n    start_ms: 48376\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 48633\n  - text: 'you''re '\n    start_ms: 48949\n  - text: 'nowhere '\n    start_ms: 49187\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 50037\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 50631\n  - text: found\n    start_ms: 51165\n- text: Nowhere to be found, except in my memories\n  start_ms: 53400\n  end_ms: 57710\n  words:\n  - text: 'Nowhere '\n    start_ms: 53400\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 54320\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 54600\n  - text: 'found, '\n    start_ms: 54860\n  - text: 'except '\n    start_ms: 55780\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 56340\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 56560\n  - text: memories\n    start_ms: 56900\n- text: I hope you cannot breathe every time that you think of me\n  start_ms: 57750\n  end_ms: 62240\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 57750\n  - text: 'hope '\n    start_ms: 58327\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 58686\n  - text: 'cannot '\n    start_ms: 58905\n  - text: 'breathe '\n    start_ms: 59462\n  - text: 'every '\n    start_ms: 60179\n  - text: 'time '\n    start_ms: 60597\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 60916\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 61175\n  - text: 'think '\n    start_ms: 61414\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 61812\n  - text: me\n    start_ms: 62031\n- text: I'm walking all alone down the road that I used to go\n  start_ms: 62240\n  end_ms: 66950\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 62240\n  - text: 'walking '\n    start_ms: 62920\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 63440\n  - text: 'alone '\n    start_ms: 63780\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 64600\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 64900\n  - text: 'road '\n    start_ms: 65200\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 65500\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 65880\n  - text: 'used '\n    start_ms: 66060\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 66299\n  - text: go\n    start_ms: 66600\n- text: I'm looking all around, I see faces that I don't know\n  start_ms: 66950\n  end_ms: 71870\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 66950\n  - text: 'looking '\n    start_ms: 67446\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 68061\n  - text: 'around, '\n    start_ms: 68339\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 69251\n  - text: 'see '\n    start_ms: 69430\n  - text: 'faces '\n    start_ms: 69708\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 70263\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 70759\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 70838\n  - text: know\n    start_ms: 71116\n- text: Take me away, cut off my circulation\n  start_ms: 71870\n  end_ms: 77560\n  words:\n  - text: 'Take '\n    start_ms: 71870\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 72330\n  - text: 'away, '\n    start_ms: 72630\n  - text: 'cut '\n    start_ms: 74270\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 74630\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 74850\n  - text: circulation\n    start_ms: 75090\n- text: I don't wanna be here if you're not\n  start_ms: 77570\n  end_ms: 84340\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 77570\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 78029\n  - text: 'wanna '\n    start_ms: 78268\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 78846\n  - text: 'here '\n    start_ms: 79245\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 79764\n  - text: 'you''re '\n    start_ms: 80302\n  - text: not\n    start_ms: 80840\n- text: Cut off my circulation\n  start_ms: 84340\n  end_ms: 87720\n  words:\n  - text: 'Cut '\n    start_ms: 84340\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 84900\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 85160\n  - text: circulation\n    start_ms: 85360\n- text: I don't want to be here if you're not\n  start_ms: 87770\n  end_ms: 91520\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 87770\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 88310\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 88650\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 88950\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 89210\n  - text: 'here '\n    start_ms: 89570\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 90090\n  - text: 'you''re '\n    start_ms: 90230\n  - text: not\n    start_ms: 90610\nplain: |-\n  Where were you when my world was burning down\n  You say you'd be here but you're no where to be found\n  No where to be found except in my memories\n  I hope you cannot breath every time that you think of me\n  I'm walking all alone down the road that I used to go\n  I'm looking all around, I see faces that I don't know\n\n  Take me away\n  Cut off my circulation\n  I don't want to be here if you're not\n  Cut off my circulation\n  I don't want to be here if you're not\n"},{"id":5611535,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"Roc Marciano & The Alchemist feat. Boldy James","albumName":"The Elephant Man’s Bones","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: Roc Marciano & The Alchemist feat. Boldy James\n  album: The Elephant Man’s Bones\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":5033107,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"Roc Marciano","albumName":"The Elephant Man's Bones","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Where we at?\nIt's Jackson\n227\nCharismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add that cold water with the ice cube (skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a bean, I was servin' food (ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (uh)\nSorry I'm being cold-hearted, all I know is the audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":"[00:04.76] Where we at?\n[00:10.50] It's Jackson\n[00:14.74] 227\n[00:19.33] Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (opp pack)\n[00:22.95] Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n[00:27.28] It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n[00:29.94] Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n[00:32.00] My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n[00:35.25] Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (bruh, bruh)\n[00:37.91] Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (yeah)\n[00:40.21] Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n[00:43.09] Then you add that cold water with the ice cube (skrrt)\n[00:46.23] Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n[00:48.73] Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n[00:51.53] Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (zaza)\n[00:54.30] Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n[00:57.05] Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n[00:59.69] 'Fore I ever touched a bean, I was servin' food (ayy)\n[01:02.56] Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n[01:06.37] Ooh\n[01:08.01] Cut the product with fentanyl (cut it)\n[01:10.65] Spray your block up and spit at you\n[01:13.25] Fuck all the ridicule\n[01:14.88] Spray and get rid of you\n[01:18.07] Ooh\n[01:18.83] Cut the product with fentanyl\n[01:21.00] Fuck all the ridicule\n[01:23.58] Spray your block up and spit at you\n[01:26.83] Uh, ooh\n[01:27.08] Niggas swear they can't be touched\n[01:29.36] 'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n[01:32.64] We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n[01:35.29] Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n[01:38.02] They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n[01:40.57] But where is your home when you heartless?\n[01:42.22] I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n[01:43.83] I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (uh)\n[01:45.83] Sorry I'm being cold-hearted, all I know is the audit\n[01:48.98] It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n[01:52.19] But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n[01:54.40] Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n[01:56.94] A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n[01:58.93] Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (nah)\n[02:01.02] Step on the product, electronic slide\n[02:02.85] We could never share a common bond (never)\n[02:04.88] My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n[02:07.76] This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (rap Heron)\n[02:10.66] Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n[02:13.91] The vest I wore was Kevlar (woo)\n[02:15.33] The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n[02:17.94] These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n[02:23.31] Marci'","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: Roc Marciano\n  album: The Elephant Man's Bones\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Where we at?\n  start_ms: 4760\n  end_ms: 10500\n- text: It's Jackson\n  start_ms: 10500\n  end_ms: 14740\n- text: '227'\n  start_ms: 14740\n  end_ms: 19330\n- text: Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (opp pack)\n  start_ms: 19330\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 27280\n- text: It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  start_ms: 27280\n  end_ms: 29940\n- text: Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  start_ms: 29940\n  end_ms: 32000\n- text: My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  start_ms: 32000\n  end_ms: 35250\n- text: Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (bruh, bruh)\n  start_ms: 35250\n  end_ms: 37910\n- text: Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (yeah)\n  start_ms: 37910\n  end_ms: 40210\n- text: Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  start_ms: 40210\n  end_ms: 43090\n- text: Then you add that cold water with the ice cube (skrrt)\n  start_ms: 43090\n  end_ms: 46230\n- text: Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  start_ms: 46230\n  end_ms: 48730\n- text: Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  start_ms: 48730\n  end_ms: 51530\n- text: Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (zaza)\n  start_ms: 51530\n  end_ms: 54300\n- text: Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  start_ms: 54300\n  end_ms: 57050\n- text: Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  start_ms: 57050\n  end_ms: 59690\n- text: '''Fore I ever touched a bean, I was servin'' food (ayy)'\n  start_ms: 59690\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 66370\n- text: Ooh\n  start_ms: 66370\n  end_ms: 68010\n- text: Cut the product with fentanyl (cut it)\n  start_ms: 68010\n  end_ms: 70650\n- text: Spray your block up and spit at you\n  start_ms: 70650\n  end_ms: 73250\n- text: Fuck all the ridicule\n  start_ms: 73250\n  end_ms: 74880\n- text: Spray and get rid of you\n  start_ms: 74880\n  end_ms: 78070\n- text: Ooh\n  start_ms: 78070\n  end_ms: 78830\n- text: Cut the product with fentanyl\n  start_ms: 78830\n  end_ms: 81000\n- text: Fuck all the ridicule\n  start_ms: 81000\n  end_ms: 83580\n- text: Spray your block up and spit at you\n  start_ms: 83580\n  end_ms: 86830\n- text: Uh, ooh\n  start_ms: 86830\n  end_ms: 87080\n- text: Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  start_ms: 87080\n  end_ms: 89360\n- text: '''Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil'' fantasy up'\n  start_ms: 89360\n  end_ms: 92640\n- text: We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  start_ms: 92640\n  end_ms: 95290\n- text: Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  start_ms: 95290\n  end_ms: 98020\n- text: They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  start_ms: 98020\n  end_ms: 100570\n- text: But where is your home when you heartless?\n  start_ms: 100570\n  end_ms: 102220\n- text: I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  start_ms: 102220\n  end_ms: 103830\n- text: I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (uh)\n  start_ms: 103830\n  end_ms: 105830\n- text: Sorry I'm being cold-hearted, all I know is the audit\n  start_ms: 105830\n  end_ms: 108980\n- text: It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  start_ms: 108980\n  end_ms: 112190\n- text: But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  start_ms: 112190\n  end_ms: 114400\n- text: Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  start_ms: 114400\n  end_ms: 116940\n- text: A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  start_ms: 116940\n  end_ms: 118930\n- text: Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (nah)\n  start_ms: 118930\n  end_ms: 121020\n- text: Step on the product, electronic slide\n  start_ms: 121020\n  end_ms: 122850\n- text: We could never share a common bond (never)\n  start_ms: 122850\n  end_ms: 124880\n- text: My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  start_ms: 124880\n  end_ms: 127760\n- text: This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (rap Heron)\n  start_ms: 127760\n  end_ms: 130660\n- text: Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  start_ms: 130660\n  end_ms: 133910\n- text: The vest I wore was Kevlar (woo)\n  start_ms: 133910\n  end_ms: 135330\n- text: The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  start_ms: 135330\n  end_ms: 137940\n- text: These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  start_ms: 137940\n  end_ms: 143310\n- text: Marci'\n  start_ms: 143310\nplain: |-\n  Where we at?\n  It's Jackson\n  227\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add that cold water with the ice cube (skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a bean, I was servin' food (ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold-hearted, all I know is the audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":15612879,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"Roc Marciano & The Alchemist","albumName":"The Elephant Man's Bones","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: Roc Marciano & The Alchemist\n  album: The Elephant Man's Bones\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":27028567,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"Roc Marciano, The Alchemist, Boldy James","albumName":"The Elephant Man's Bones","duration":162.0529929,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: Roc Marciano, The Alchemist, Boldy James\n  album: The Elephant Man's Bones\n  duration_ms: 162053\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":10581089,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"Marciano, Roc & Alchemist, The feat. Boldy James","albumName":"The Elephant Man’s Bones: Pimpire Edition","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: Marciano, Roc & Alchemist, The feat. Boldy James\n  album: 'The Elephant Man’s Bones: Pimpire Edition'\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":10581086,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"Roc Marciano","albumName":"The Elephant Man’s Bones: Pimpire Edition","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: Roc Marciano\n  album: 'The Elephant Man’s Bones: Pimpire Edition'\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":10581088,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"Roc Marciano & The Alchemist feat. Boldy James","albumName":"The Elephant Man’s Bones: Pimpire Edition","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: Roc Marciano & The Alchemist feat. Boldy James\n  album: 'The Elephant Man’s Bones: Pimpire Edition'\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":4224419,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"Roc Marciano","albumName":"The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: Roc Marciano\n  album: The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":16248195,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"Roc Marciano & The Alchemist","albumName":"The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition","duration":162.053333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: Roc Marciano & The Alchemist\n  album: The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition\n  duration_ms: 162053\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":15752929,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"The Alchemist & Roc Marciano Feat. Boldy James","albumName":"The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition","duration":162.096,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: The Alchemist & Roc Marciano Feat. Boldy James\n  album: The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition\n  duration_ms: 162096\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":22556535,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"The Alchemist","albumName":"The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition","duration":162.053333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: The Alchemist\n  album: The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition\n  duration_ms: 162053\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":10447068,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"Roc Marciano & The Alchemist feat. Boldy James","albumName":"The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: Roc Marciano & The Alchemist feat. Boldy James\n  album: The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":10447070,"name":"Trillion Cut","trackName":"Trillion Cut","artistName":"Marciano, Roc & Alchemist, The feat. Boldy James","albumName":"The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut\n  artist: Marciano, Roc & Alchemist, The feat. Boldy James\n  album: The Elephant Man's Bones The ALC Edition\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":28861287,"name":"Introspection [Mix Cut] (Orginal Mix)","trackName":"Introspection [Mix Cut] (Orginal Mix)","artistName":"Terry Bones","albumName":"A State of Trance 550 (Mixed Version)","duration":365.0,"instrumental":true,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":null,"syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Introspection [Mix Cut] (Orginal Mix)\n  artist: Terry Bones\n  album: A State of Trance 550 (Mixed Version)\n  duration_ms: 365000\n  instrumental: true\nlines: []\n"},{"id":29057721,"name":"Introspection [Mix Cut] (John Askew Remix)","trackName":"Introspection [Mix Cut] (John Askew Remix)","artistName":"Terry Bones","albumName":"A State Of Trance 2004 (Mixed by Armin van Buuren)","duration":306.0,"instrumental":true,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":null,"syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Introspection [Mix Cut] (John Askew Remix)\n  artist: Terry Bones\n  album: A State Of Trance 2004 (Mixed by Armin van Buuren)\n  duration_ms: 306000\n  instrumental: true\nlines: []\n"},{"id":2201078,"name":"Trillion Cut (feat. Boldy James)","trackName":"Trillion Cut (feat. Boldy James)","artistName":"Roc Marciano feat. The Alchemist & Boldy James","albumName":"The Elephant Man's Bones","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut (feat. Boldy James)\n  artist: Roc Marciano feat. The Alchemist & Boldy James\n  album: The Elephant Man's Bones\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"},{"id":13958669,"name":"Trillion Cut (feat. Boldy James)","trackName":"Trillion Cut (feat. Boldy James)","artistName":"Roc Marciano","albumName":"The Elephant Man's Bones","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\nInfatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\nIt's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\nWhere selling dope was my only revenue stream\nMy double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\nMe and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\nTurn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\nBop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\nThen you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\nTaxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\nStill sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\nPoppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\nMe and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\nNow its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\nThousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray and get rid of you\nOoh\nCut the product with fentanyl\nFuck all the ridicule\nSpray your block up and spit at you\nUh, ooh\n\nNiggas swear they can't be touched\n'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\nWe was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\nOutcast, I don't even give my family a hug\nThey say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\nBut where is your home when you heartless?\nI'm just bein' whole-hearted\nI need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\nSorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\nIt snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\nBut even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\nCopped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\nA trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\nPut you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\nStep on the product, electronic slide\nWe could never share a common bond (Never)\nMy pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\nThis is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\nBlack Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\nThe vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\nThe scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\nThese ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\nMarci'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Trillion Cut (feat. Boldy James)\n  artist: Roc Marciano\n  album: The Elephant Man's Bones\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Charismatic, in love with them sweet aromatics (Opp pack)\n  Infatuated with Rolodexes, Audemars Piguets, Cartiers, and Pateks\n  It's hard to steer the traffic, stuck in the ghetto with fiends\n  Where selling dope was my only revenue stream\n  My double cup forever dirty (Pour it up), my hands never was clean\n  Me and G on Stockwell, filthy as Rockwell (Bruh, bruh)\n  Turn an eye on high fresh out a dry spell (Yeah)\n  Bop it twice, then drop it in a pot like some oxtail\n  Then you add the cold water with the ice cube (Skrrt)\n  Taxing niggas on the split, I want the high twos\n  Still sendin' off Gelatos and them OG's\n  Poppin' off 'bows of exotic for the low threes (Zaza)\n  Me and Holiday them kids with the dirty shoes (Holi')\n  Now its turnarounds in the tin with them thirty blues\n  'Fore I ever touched a beam, I was servin' food (Ayy)\n  Thousand grams of cut with morphine, that's my current mood\n\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl (Cut it)\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray and get rid of you\n  Ooh\n  Cut the product with fentanyl\n  Fuck all the ridicule\n  Spray your block up and spit at you\n  Uh, ooh\n\n  Niggas swear they can't be touched\n  'Til the jammy bust, fuck your lil' fantasy up\n  We was wearing Champion, but they never championed us\n  Outcast, I don't even give my family a hug\n  They say, \"Home is where the heart is\"\n  But where is your home when you heartless?\n  I'm just bein' whole-hearted\n  I need the AR with the shoulder harness on it (Uh)\n  Sorry I'm being cold hearted, all I know is to audit\n  It snowed at my apartment, the sofa was hard as a park bench\n  But even while starving, I wouldn't beg your pardon\n  Copped the new watch, I'm on suicide watch\n  A trillion cuts like I'm tryin' to die\n  Put you on ice, we don't let the drama slide (Nah)\n  Step on the product, electronic slide\n  We could never share a common bond (Never)\n  My pops had tracks in his arms from heroin\n  This is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron (Rap Heron)\n  Black Bugatti Veyron, the leather in the car was eggnog\n  The vest I wore was Kevlar (Woo)\n  The scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar\n  These ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant\n  Marci'\n"}]