[{"id":30930508,"name":"Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA) [Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.]","trackName":"Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA) [Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.]","artistName":"Big K.R.I.T.","albumName":"Big K.R.I.T. - King Remembered In Time","duration":283.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slabbed out\nYou thought you were the only pimpin'\nIn the V.I with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\n\nNow I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\nEffortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\nAnd with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\nFigure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\nMo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\nCuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\nAnd the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\nBut as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\nWood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\nButter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\nDo it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\nPlus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\nOr the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\nIts like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\nCome and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\nHook: 1x\n\nChocolate-chip cookies on my tray\nTrue stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\nA real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\nWe burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\nI earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\nAnd stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\nBroke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\nShout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\nOG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\nRide around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\nYou niggas do a show there and don't get no love\nI sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\nThey say the game done changed\nWell that mean, you need to change too\nAnd stop with all that fuckin' hatin\nCuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\nRightt\nYou ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\nBig nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\nDead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\nDon't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\nRiding deciding live maine or peeking\nWho said hustlers can't be king\nWrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\nSlide the first day, instant upgrade\nThompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\nVery rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\nWith the rich folks bout to blend in\nGot a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\nGangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\nI don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\nBest believe it this harlem kids the meanest\nTrippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA) [Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.]\n  artist: Big K.R.I.T.\n  album: Big K.R.I.T. - King Remembered In Time\n  duration_ms: 283000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slabbed out\n  You thought you were the only pimpin'\n  In the V.I with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n\n  Now I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\n  Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\n  And with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\n  Figure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\n  Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\n  Cuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\n  And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\n  But as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\n  Wood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\n  Butter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\n  Do it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\n  Plus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\n  Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\n  Its like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n  3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n  Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\n  Hook: 1x\n\n  Chocolate-chip cookies on my tray\n  True stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\n  A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\n  We burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\n  I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\n  And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n  Broke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\n  Shout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\n  OG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\n  Ride around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\n  You niggas do a show there and don't get no love\n  I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n  They say the game done changed\n  Well that mean, you need to change too\n  And stop with all that fuckin' hatin\n  Cuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\n  Rightt\n  You ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\n  Big nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\n  Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\n  Don't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\n  Riding deciding live maine or peeking\n  Who said hustlers can't be king\n  Wrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\n  Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n  Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\n  Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\n  With the rich folks bout to blend in\n  Got a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\n  Gangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\n  I don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\n  Best believe it this harlem kids the meanest\n  Trippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it\n"},{"id":22134790,"name":"Only One  Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA (Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.)","trackName":"Only One  Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA (Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.)","artistName":"Big K.R.I.T.","albumName":"K.R.I.T. (King Remembered In Time)","duration":283.3537,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slabbed out\nYou thought you were the only pimpin'\nIn the V.I with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\n\nNow I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\nEffortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\nAnd with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\nFigure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\nMo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\nCuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\nAnd the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\nBut as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\nWood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\nButter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\nDo it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\nPlus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\nOr the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\nIts like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\nCome and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\nHook: 1x\n\nChocolate-chip cookies on my tray\nTrue stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\nA real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\nWe burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\nI earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\nAnd stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\nBroke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\nShout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\nOG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\nRide around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\nYou niggas do a show there and don't get no love\nI sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\nThey say the game done changed\nWell that mean, you need to change too\nAnd stop with all that fuckin' hatin\nCuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\nRightt\nYou ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\nBig nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\nDead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\nDon't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\nRiding deciding live maine or peeking\nWho said hustlers can't be king\nWrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\nSlide the first day, instant upgrade\nThompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\nVery rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\nWith the rich folks bout to blend in\nGot a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\nGangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\nI don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\nBest believe it this harlem kids the meanest\nTrippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Only One  Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA (Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.)\n  artist: Big K.R.I.T.\n  album: K.R.I.T. (King Remembered In Time)\n  duration_ms: 283354\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slabbed out\n  You thought you were the only pimpin'\n  In the V.I with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n\n  Now I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\n  Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\n  And with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\n  Figure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\n  Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\n  Cuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\n  And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\n  But as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\n  Wood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\n  Butter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\n  Do it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\n  Plus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\n  Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\n  Its like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n  3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n  Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\n  Hook: 1x\n\n  Chocolate-chip cookies on my tray\n  True stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\n  A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\n  We burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\n  I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\n  And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n  Broke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\n  Shout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\n  OG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\n  Ride around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\n  You niggas do a show there and don't get no love\n  I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n  They say the game done changed\n  Well that mean, you need to change too\n  And stop with all that fuckin' hatin\n  Cuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\n  Rightt\n  You ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\n  Big nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\n  Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\n  Don't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\n  Riding deciding live maine or peeking\n  Who said hustlers can't be king\n  Wrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\n  Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n  Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\n  Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\n  With the rich folks bout to blend in\n  Got a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\n  Gangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\n  I don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\n  Best believe it this harlem kids the meanest\n  Trippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it\n"},{"id":10670651,"name":"12 Big K.R.I.T. - Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke Dza) [Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.]","trackName":"12 Big K.R.I.T. - Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke Dza) [Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.]","artistName":"Big K.R.I.T.","albumName":"King Remembered In Time","duration":283.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slabbed out\nYou thought you were the only pimpin'\nIn the V.I with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\n\nNow I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\nEffortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\nAnd with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\nFigure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\nMo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\nCuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\nAnd the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\nBut as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\nWood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\nButter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\nDo it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\nPlus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\nOr the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\nIts like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\nCome and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\nHook: 1x\n\nChocolate-chip cookies on my tray\nTrue stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\nA real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\nWe burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\nI earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\nAnd stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\nBroke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\nShout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\nOG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\nRide around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\nYou niggas do a show there and don't get no love\nI sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\nThey say the game done changed\nWell that mean, you need to change too\nAnd stop with all that fuckin' hatin\nCuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\nRightt\nYou ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\nBig nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\nDead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\nDon't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\nRiding deciding live maine or peeking\nWho said hustlers can't be king\nWrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\nSlide the first day, instant upgrade\nThompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\nVery rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\nWith the rich folks bout to blend in\nGot a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\nGangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\nI don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\nBest believe it this harlem kids the meanest\nTrippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 12 Big K.R.I.T. - Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke Dza) [Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.]\n  artist: Big K.R.I.T.\n  album: King Remembered In Time\n  duration_ms: 283000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slabbed out\n  You thought you were the only pimpin'\n  In the V.I with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n\n  Now I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\n  Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\n  And with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\n  Figure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\n  Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\n  Cuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\n  And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\n  But as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\n  Wood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\n  Butter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\n  Do it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\n  Plus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\n  Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\n  Its like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n  3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n  Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\n  Hook: 1x\n\n  Chocolate-chip cookies on my tray\n  True stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\n  A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\n  We burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\n  I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\n  And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n  Broke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\n  Shout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\n  OG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\n  Ride around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\n  You niggas do a show there and don't get no love\n  I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n  They say the game done changed\n  Well that mean, you need to change too\n  And stop with all that fuckin' hatin\n  Cuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\n  Rightt\n  You ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\n  Big nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\n  Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\n  Don't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\n  Riding deciding live maine or peeking\n  Who said hustlers can't be king\n  Wrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\n  Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n  Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\n  Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\n  With the rich folks bout to blend in\n  Got a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\n  Gangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\n  I don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\n  Best believe it this harlem kids the meanest\n  Trippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it\n"},{"id":12722765,"name":"Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA) [Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.]","trackName":"Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA) [Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.]","artistName":"Big K.R.I.T.","albumName":"King Remembered In Time","duration":283.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slabbed out\nYou thought you were the only pimpin'\nIn the V.I with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\n\nNow I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\nEffortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\nAnd with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\nFigure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\nMo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\nCuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\nAnd the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\nBut as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\nWood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\nButter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\nDo it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\nPlus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\nOr the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\nIts like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\nCome and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\nHook: 1x\n\nChocolate-chip cookies on my tray\nTrue stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\nA real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\nWe burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\nI earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\nAnd stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\nBroke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\nShout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\nOG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\nRide around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\nYou niggas do a show there and don't get no love\nI sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\nThey say the game done changed\nWell that mean, you need to change too\nAnd stop with all that fuckin' hatin\nCuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\nRightt\nYou ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\nBig nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\nDead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\nDon't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\nRiding deciding live maine or peeking\nWho said hustlers can't be king\nWrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\nSlide the first day, instant upgrade\nThompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\nVery rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\nWith the rich folks bout to blend in\nGot a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\nGangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\nI don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\nBest believe it this harlem kids the meanest\nTrippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA) [Prod. By Big K.R.I.T.]\n  artist: Big K.R.I.T.\n  album: King Remembered In Time\n  duration_ms: 283000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slabbed out\n  You thought you were the only pimpin'\n  In the V.I with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n\n  Now I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\n  Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\n  And with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\n  Figure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\n  Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\n  Cuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\n  And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\n  But as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\n  Wood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\n  Butter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\n  Do it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\n  Plus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\n  Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\n  Its like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n  3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n  Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\n  Hook: 1x\n\n  Chocolate-chip cookies on my tray\n  True stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\n  A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\n  We burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\n  I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\n  And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n  Broke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\n  Shout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\n  OG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\n  Ride around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\n  You niggas do a show there and don't get no love\n  I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n  They say the game done changed\n  Well that mean, you need to change too\n  And stop with all that fuckin' hatin\n  Cuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\n  Rightt\n  You ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\n  Big nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\n  Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\n  Don't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\n  Riding deciding live maine or peeking\n  Who said hustlers can't be king\n  Wrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\n  Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n  Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\n  Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\n  With the rich folks bout to blend in\n  Got a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\n  Gangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\n  I don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\n  Best believe it this harlem kids the meanest\n  Trippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it\n"},{"id":20506784,"name":"Only One","trackName":"Only One","artistName":"Big K.R.I.T.","albumName":"King Remembered In Time","duration":290.2987759,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slabbed out\nYou thought you were the only pimpin'\nIn the V.I with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\n\nNow I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\nEffortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\nAnd with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\nFigure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\nMo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\nCuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\nAnd the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\nBut as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\nWood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\nButter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\nDo it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\nPlus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\nOr the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\nIts like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\nCome and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\nHook: 1x\n\nChocolate-chip cookies on my tray\nTrue stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\nA real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\nWe burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\nI earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\nAnd stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\nBroke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\nShout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\nOG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\nRide around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\nYou niggas do a show there and don't get no love\nI sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\nThey say the game done changed\nWell that mean, you need to change too\nAnd stop with all that fuckin' hatin\nCuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\nRightt\nYou ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\nBig nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\nDead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\nDon't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\nRiding deciding live maine or peeking\nWho said hustlers can't be king\nWrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\nSlide the first day, instant upgrade\nThompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\nVery rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\nWith the rich folks bout to blend in\nGot a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\nGangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\nI don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\nBest believe it this harlem kids the meanest\nTrippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Only One\n  artist: Big K.R.I.T.\n  album: King Remembered In Time\n  duration_ms: 290299\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slabbed out\n  You thought you were the only pimpin'\n  In the V.I with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n\n  Now I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\n  Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\n  And with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\n  Figure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\n  Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\n  Cuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\n  And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\n  But as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\n  Wood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\n  Butter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\n  Do it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\n  Plus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\n  Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\n  Its like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n  3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n  Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\n  Hook: 1x\n\n  Chocolate-chip cookies on my tray\n  True stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\n  A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\n  We burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\n  I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\n  And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n  Broke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\n  Shout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\n  OG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\n  Ride around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\n  You niggas do a show there and don't get no love\n  I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n  They say the game done changed\n  Well that mean, you need to change too\n  And stop with all that fuckin' hatin\n  Cuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\n  Rightt\n  You ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\n  Big nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\n  Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\n  Don't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\n  Riding deciding live maine or peeking\n  Who said hustlers can't be king\n  Wrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\n  Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n  Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\n  Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\n  With the rich folks bout to blend in\n  Got a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\n  Gangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\n  I don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\n  Best believe it this harlem kids the meanest\n  Trippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it\n"},{"id":10846610,"name":"Only One","trackName":"Only One","artistName":"Big K.R.I.T.","albumName":"King Remembered in Time","duration":283.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slabbed out\nYou thought you were the only pimpin'\nIn the V.I with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\n\nNow I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\nEffortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\nAnd with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\nFigure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\nMo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\nCuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\nAnd the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\nBut as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\nWood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\nButter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\nDo it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\nPlus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\nOr the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\nIts like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\nCome and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\nHook: 1x\n\nChocolate-chip cookies on my tray\nTrue stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\nA real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\nWe burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\nI earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\nAnd stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\nBroke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\nShout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\nOG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\nRide around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\nYou niggas do a show there and don't get no love\nI sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\nThey say the game done changed\nWell that mean, you need to change too\nAnd stop with all that fuckin' hatin\nCuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\nRightt\nYou ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\nBig nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\nDead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\nDon't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\nRiding deciding live maine or peeking\nWho said hustlers can't be king\nWrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\nSlide the first day, instant upgrade\nThompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\nVery rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\nWith the rich folks bout to blend in\nGot a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\nGangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\nI don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\nBest believe it this harlem kids the meanest\nTrippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Only One\n  artist: Big K.R.I.T.\n  album: King Remembered in Time\n  duration_ms: 283000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slabbed out\n  You thought you were the only pimpin'\n  In the V.I with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n\n  Now I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\n  Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\n  And with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\n  Figure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\n  Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\n  Cuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\n  And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\n  But as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\n  Wood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\n  Butter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\n  Do it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\n  Plus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\n  Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\n  Its like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n  3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n  Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\n  Hook: 1x\n\n  Chocolate-chip cookies on my tray\n  True stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\n  A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\n  We burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\n  I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\n  And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n  Broke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\n  Shout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\n  OG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\n  Ride around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\n  You niggas do a show there and don't get no love\n  I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n  They say the game done changed\n  Well that mean, you need to change too\n  And stop with all that fuckin' hatin\n  Cuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\n  Rightt\n  You ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\n  Big nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\n  Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\n  Don't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\n  Riding deciding live maine or peeking\n  Who said hustlers can't be king\n  Wrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\n  Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n  Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\n  Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\n  With the rich folks bout to blend in\n  Got a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\n  Gangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\n  I don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\n  Best believe it this harlem kids the meanest\n  Trippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it\n"},{"id":6205834,"name":"Only One (feat.Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA)","trackName":"Only One (feat.Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA)","artistName":"Big K.R.I.T.","albumName":"King Remembered In Time","duration":283.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slabbed out\nYou thought you were the only pimpin'\nIn the V.I with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\n\nNow I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\nEffortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\nAnd with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\nFigure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\nMo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\nCuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\nAnd the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\nBut as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\nWood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\nButter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\nDo it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\nPlus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\nOr the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\nIts like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\nCome and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\nHook: 1x\n\nChocolate-chip cookies on my tray\nTrue stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\nA real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\nWe burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\nI earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\nAnd stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\nBroke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\nShout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\nOG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\nRide around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\nYou niggas do a show there and don't get no love\nI sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\nThey say the game done changed\nWell that mean, you need to change too\nAnd stop with all that fuckin' hatin\nCuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\nRightt\nYou ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\nBig nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\nDead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\nDon't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\nRiding deciding live maine or peeking\nWho said hustlers can't be king\nWrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\nSlide the first day, instant upgrade\nThompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\nVery rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\nWith the rich folks bout to blend in\nGot a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\nGangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\nI don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\nBest believe it this harlem kids the meanest\nTrippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Only One (feat.Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA)\n  artist: Big K.R.I.T.\n  album: King Remembered In Time\n  duration_ms: 283000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slabbed out\n  You thought you were the only pimpin'\n  In the V.I with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n\n  Now I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\n  Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\n  And with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\n  Figure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\n  Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\n  Cuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\n  And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\n  But as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\n  Wood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\n  Butter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\n  Do it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\n  Plus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\n  Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\n  Its like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n  3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n  Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\n  Hook: 1x\n\n  Chocolate-chip cookies on my tray\n  True stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\n  A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\n  We burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\n  I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\n  And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n  Broke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\n  Shout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\n  OG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\n  Ride around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\n  You niggas do a show there and don't get no love\n  I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n  They say the game done changed\n  Well that mean, you need to change too\n  And stop with all that fuckin' hatin\n  Cuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\n  Rightt\n  You ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\n  Big nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\n  Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\n  Don't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\n  Riding deciding live maine or peeking\n  Who said hustlers can't be king\n  Wrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\n  Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n  Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\n  Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\n  With the rich folks bout to blend in\n  Got a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\n  Gangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\n  I don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\n  Best believe it this harlem kids the meanest\n  Trippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it\n"},{"id":14379223,"name":"Only One Ft. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA","trackName":"Only One Ft. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA","artistName":"Big K.R.I.T.","albumName":"King Remembered In Time","duration":283.3537,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slabbed out\nYou thought you were the only pimpin'\nIn the V.I with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\n\nNow I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\nEffortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\nAnd with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\nFigure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\nMo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\nCuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\nAnd the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\nBut as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\nWood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\nButter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\nDo it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\nPlus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\nOr the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\nIts like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\nCome and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\nHook: 1x\n\nChocolate-chip cookies on my tray\nTrue stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\nA real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\nWe burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\nI earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\nAnd stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\nBroke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\nShout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\nOG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\nRide around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\nYou niggas do a show there and don't get no love\nI sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\nThey say the game done changed\nWell that mean, you need to change too\nAnd stop with all that fuckin' hatin\nCuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\nRightt\nYou ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\nBig nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\nDead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\nDon't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\nRiding deciding live maine or peeking\nWho said hustlers can't be king\nWrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\nSlide the first day, instant upgrade\nThompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\nVery rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\nWith the rich folks bout to blend in\nGot a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\nGangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\nI don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\nBest believe it this harlem kids the meanest\nTrippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Only One Ft. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA\n  artist: Big K.R.I.T.\n  album: King Remembered In Time\n  duration_ms: 283354\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slabbed out\n  You thought you were the only pimpin'\n  In the V.I with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n\n  Now I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\n  Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\n  And with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\n  Figure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\n  Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\n  Cuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\n  And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\n  But as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\n  Wood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\n  Butter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\n  Do it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\n  Plus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\n  Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\n  Its like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n  3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n  Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\n  Hook: 1x\n\n  Chocolate-chip cookies on my tray\n  True stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\n  A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\n  We burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\n  I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\n  And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n  Broke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\n  Shout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\n  OG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\n  Ride around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\n  You niggas do a show there and don't get no love\n  I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n  They say the game done changed\n  Well that mean, you need to change too\n  And stop with all that fuckin' hatin\n  Cuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\n  Rightt\n  You ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\n  Big nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\n  Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\n  Don't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\n  Riding deciding live maine or peeking\n  Who said hustlers can't be king\n  Wrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\n  Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n  Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\n  Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\n  With the rich folks bout to blend in\n  Got a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\n  Gangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\n  I don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\n  Best believe it this harlem kids the meanest\n  Trippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it\n"},{"id":26130219,"name":"Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa and Smoke DZA)","trackName":"Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa and Smoke DZA)","artistName":"Big K.R.I.T.","albumName":"King Remembered In Time","duration":283.279728,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slanging iron\nYou thought you were the only one pimpin'\nIn the V.I. with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one\nNah, playa\nYou thought you were the only one\nNah, playa\n\nNow I apply pressure, yes sir, gold on my dresser\nEffortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\nAnd with it I could wrestle any pro into a pretzel\nFigure fo', she figure mo' dick might destroy her vessel\nMo'-mo'-most not the lesser, that's how I judge my worth\n\n'Cause the last time I tripped over pussy was probably at my birth\nAnd the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\nBut as soon as I left the parking lot\nI maxed it out 'til it burst, uh\nWoodgrain my wheel, uh, princess cut my grill, uh\nButterfly my steak, uh, shrimp and lobster on chill\n\nDo it how I feel, 'cause doin' what you love won't hurt you\n\nPlus a L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\nOr the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\nIt's like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup, one purple\nThree more times, that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n\nCome and go as I please, whole world in my palm, nigga\n\nYou thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slanging iron\nYou thought you were the only one pimpin'\nIn the V.I. with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one\nNah, playa\nYou thought you were the only one\nNah, playa\n\nChocolate chip cookies on my tray, true stoner\nI get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\nA real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\nWe burnin' down, come smoke a pound, I'm just a flight away\nI earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\nAnd stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n\nBroke niggas they don't like us, they don't wanna fight\nShout out to Max 'cause you could never ride the wave\nBut me, I got the title\nOG kush in my joint, ooh, all my niggas on point, ooh\nRidin', reppin' that gang, ooh, TGOD come join, ooh\nYou niggas do a show there and get no love\nI sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n\nThey say the game done changed\nWhat I mean, you need to change too\n\nAnd stop with all that fuckin' hatin'\n'Cause that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\nYou thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slanging iron\nYou thought you were the only one pimpin'\nIn the V.I. with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one (Kush God, bitch)\nNah, playa (Ah)\nYou thought you were the only one (Right)\nNah, playa\n\nYou ain't the only nigga gettin' money, got it down to a science\nBig nigga, bank teller, think I played for the Giants\nDead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\nDon't be mad because we livin', dog, be mad at the Mayans\nRidin', decidin', live maitre, the P king\nWho said hustlers can't be king?\nWrist got crowns on 'em, bad hoes is bee sting\nMr. Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n\nThompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\nVery rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\nWith the rich folks, I blend in\n\nGot an obsession for this game, Bob Lemon\n\nGangster, hustler, shit I bleed it\nKeep these niggas heated\nI don't do reservations, I walk in and get seated\nAh, best believe it, this Harlem kid's the meanest\nTrippy stickin' at the table, smell\nThe smoke but they don't see it, nigga\n\nYou thought you were the only one ballin' (Right)\nYou thought you were the only one slanging iron (Yes sir)\nYou thought you were the only one pimpin'\nIn the V.I. with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one\nNah, playa\nYou thought you were the only one\nNah, playa","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Only One (Feat. Wiz Khalifa and Smoke DZA)\n  artist: Big K.R.I.T.\n  album: King Remembered In Time\n  duration_ms: 283280\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slanging iron\n  You thought you were the only one pimpin'\n  In the V.I. with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one\n  Nah, playa\n  You thought you were the only one\n  Nah, playa\n\n  Now I apply pressure, yes sir, gold on my dresser\n  Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\n  And with it I could wrestle any pro into a pretzel\n  Figure fo', she figure mo' dick might destroy her vessel\n  Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, that's how I judge my worth\n\n  'Cause the last time I tripped over pussy was probably at my birth\n  And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\n  But as soon as I left the parking lot\n  I maxed it out 'til it burst, uh\n  Woodgrain my wheel, uh, princess cut my grill, uh\n  Butterfly my steak, uh, shrimp and lobster on chill\n\n  Do it how I feel, 'cause doin' what you love won't hurt you\n\n  Plus a L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\n  Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\n  It's like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup, one purple\n  Three more times, that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n\n  Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm, nigga\n\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slanging iron\n  You thought you were the only one pimpin'\n  In the V.I. with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one\n  Nah, playa\n  You thought you were the only one\n  Nah, playa\n\n  Chocolate chip cookies on my tray, true stoner\n  I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\n  A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\n  We burnin' down, come smoke a pound, I'm just a flight away\n  I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\n  And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n\n  Broke niggas they don't like us, they don't wanna fight\n  Shout out to Max 'cause you could never ride the wave\n  But me, I got the title\n  OG kush in my joint, ooh, all my niggas on point, ooh\n  Ridin', reppin' that gang, ooh, TGOD come join, ooh\n  You niggas do a show there and get no love\n  I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n\n  They say the game done changed\n  What I mean, you need to change too\n\n  And stop with all that fuckin' hatin'\n  'Cause that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slanging iron\n  You thought you were the only one pimpin'\n  In the V.I. with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one (Kush God, bitch)\n  Nah, playa (Ah)\n  You thought you were the only one (Right)\n  Nah, playa\n\n  You ain't the only nigga gettin' money, got it down to a science\n  Big nigga, bank teller, think I played for the Giants\n  Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\n  Don't be mad because we livin', dog, be mad at the Mayans\n  Ridin', decidin', live maitre, the P king\n  Who said hustlers can't be king?\n  Wrist got crowns on 'em, bad hoes is bee sting\n  Mr. Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n\n  Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\n  Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\n  With the rich folks, I blend in\n\n  Got an obsession for this game, Bob Lemon\n\n  Gangster, hustler, shit I bleed it\n  Keep these niggas heated\n  I don't do reservations, I walk in and get seated\n  Ah, best believe it, this Harlem kid's the meanest\n  Trippy stickin' at the table, smell\n  The smoke but they don't see it, nigga\n\n  You thought you were the only one ballin' (Right)\n  You thought you were the only one slanging iron (Yes sir)\n  You thought you were the only one pimpin'\n  In the V.I. with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one\n  Nah, playa\n  You thought you were the only one\n  Nah, playa\n"},{"id":36099170,"name":"Only One","trackName":"Only One","artistName":"Big K.R.I.T. Wiz Khalifa Smoke DZA","albumName":"King Remembered in Time","duration":283.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slabbed out\nYou thought you were the only pimpin'\nIn the V.I with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\n\nNow I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\nEffortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\nAnd with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\nFigure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\nMo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\nCuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\nAnd the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\nBut as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\nWood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\nButter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\nDo it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\nPlus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\nOr the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\nIts like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\nCome and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\nHook: 1x\n\nChocolate-chip cookies on my tray\nTrue stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\nA real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\nWe burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\nI earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\nAnd stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\nBroke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\nShout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\nOG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\nRide around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\nYou niggas do a show there and don't get no love\nI sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\nThey say the game done changed\nWell that mean, you need to change too\nAnd stop with all that fuckin' hatin\nCuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\nRightt\nYou ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\nBig nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\nDead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\nDon't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\nRiding deciding live maine or peeking\nWho said hustlers can't be king\nWrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\nSlide the first day, instant upgrade\nThompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\nVery rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\nWith the rich folks bout to blend in\nGot a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\nGangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\nI don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\nBest believe it this harlem kids the meanest\nTrippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Only One\n  artist: Big K.R.I.T. Wiz Khalifa Smoke DZA\n  album: King Remembered in Time\n  duration_ms: 283000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slabbed out\n  You thought you were the only pimpin'\n  In the V.I with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n\n  Now I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\n  Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\n  And with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\n  Figure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\n  Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\n  Cuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\n  And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\n  But as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\n  Wood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\n  Butter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\n  Do it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\n  Plus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\n  Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\n  Its like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n  3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n  Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\n  Hook: 1x\n\n  Chocolate-chip cookies on my tray\n  True stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\n  A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\n  We burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\n  I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\n  And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n  Broke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\n  Shout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\n  OG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\n  Ride around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\n  You niggas do a show there and don't get no love\n  I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n  They say the game done changed\n  Well that mean, you need to change too\n  And stop with all that fuckin' hatin\n  Cuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\n  Rightt\n  You ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\n  Big nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\n  Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\n  Don't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\n  Riding deciding live maine or peeking\n  Who said hustlers can't be king\n  Wrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\n  Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n  Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\n  Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\n  With the rich folks bout to blend in\n  Got a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\n  Gangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\n  I don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\n  Best believe it this harlem kids the meanest\n  Trippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it\n"},{"id":6205833,"name":"Only One","trackName":"Only One","artistName":"Big K.R.I.T. feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA","albumName":"King Remembered in Time","duration":283.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You thought you were the only one ballin'\nYou thought you were the only one slabbed out\nYou thought you were the only pimpin'\nIn the V.I with the broads and they ass out\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\nYou thought you were the only one...\nNaww playa.\n\nNow I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\nEffortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\nAnd with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\nFigure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\nMo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\nCuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\nAnd the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\nBut as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\nWood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\nButter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\nDo it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\nPlus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\nOr the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\nIts like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\nCome and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\nHook: 1x\n\nChocolate-chip cookies on my tray\nTrue stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\nA real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\nWe burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\nI earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\nAnd stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\nBroke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\nShout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\nOG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\nRide around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\nYou niggas do a show there and don't get no love\nI sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\nThey say the game done changed\nWell that mean, you need to change too\nAnd stop with all that fuckin' hatin\nCuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\nRightt\nYou ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\nBig nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\nDead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\nDon't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\nRiding deciding live maine or peeking\nWho said hustlers can't be king\nWrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\nSlide the first day, instant upgrade\nThompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\nVery rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\nWith the rich folks bout to blend in\nGot a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\nGangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\nI don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\nBest believe it this harlem kids the meanest\nTrippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Only One\n  artist: Big K.R.I.T. feat. Wiz Khalifa & Smoke DZA\n  album: King Remembered in Time\n  duration_ms: 283000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You thought you were the only one ballin'\n  You thought you were the only one slabbed out\n  You thought you were the only pimpin'\n  In the V.I with the broads and they ass out\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n  You thought you were the only one...\n  Naww playa.\n\n  Now I apply pressure, yessuh, gold on my dresser\n  Effortlessly perfected this pimpin' to the neck up\n  And with it, I can dress up, any pro into a pretzel\n  Figure 'fore she figure more dick might destroy her vessel\n  Mo'-mo'-most not the lesser, it's high to my worth\n  Cuz the last time I tripped ova pussy was probably at my birth\n  And the last time I didn't pop my trunk was probably at my church\n  But as soon as I left the parking lot, I maxed it out till it burst\n  Wood grain in my wheel, princess cut in my grill\n  Butter fly my steak, shrimp and lobster on chill\n  Do it how I feel, cuz doin' what you love won't hurt ya\n  Plus an L7 could never understand the complexity of my circle\n  Or the dynamics of a twerker, or the inner workings of a squirter\n  Its like chemistry with this codeine, two parts cup one purple\n  3 more time that's charm, bad bitch on my arm\n  Come and go as I please, whole world in my palm\n\n  Hook: 1x\n\n  Chocolate-chip cookies on my tray\n  True stoner I get high just as sure as the sun come up to light up the day\n  A real boss up in the game don't have to pay to play\n  We burnin' down come smoke a pound I'm just a flight away\n  I earned the right to say I'm rich off what I write today\n  And stickin' to my cheese like a microwave\n  Broke niggas they don't like us they don't wanna fight\n  Shout out to Max cuz you could never ride the wave but me I got the title\n  OG kush in my joint, Ooo, all my niggas on point, Ooo\n  Ride around reppin' that gang, T.G.O.D. come join\n  You niggas do a show there and don't get no love\n  I sell a hundred thousand tickets when I show up\n  They say the game done changed\n  Well that mean, you need to change too\n  And stop with all that fuckin' hatin\n  Cuz that's what motherfuckin' lames do\n\n  Rightt\n  You ain't the only nigga gettin' money got it down to a science\n  Big nigga, bank teller, think I play for the Giants\n  Dead fresh, walk by and get a moment of silence\n  Don't be mad because we livin' dog, be mad at the Mayans\n  Riding deciding live maine or peeking\n  Who said hustlers can't be king\n  Wrists got crowns on 'em bad hoes is beasting mista\n  Slide the first day, instant upgrade\n  Thompson my jacket, Black Label my denims\n  Very rare my kicks, this petty cash that I'm spendin'\n  With the rich folks bout to blend in\n  Got a obsession for this game Bob Lemon\n  Gangsta, hustla, shit I bleed it, keep these niggas heated\n  I don't do reservations I walk in and get seated\n  Best believe it this harlem kids the meanest\n  Trippy stickin' at the table smell the smoke but they don't see it\n"}]