[{"id":26640791,"name":"600 Degrees","trackName":"600 Degrees","artistName":"BigXthaPlug","albumName":"600 Degrees","duration":177.142,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Tuned up)\n(Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\nDrop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\nAll on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\nI'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\nLet me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\nAy, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\nWhen it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\nYeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\nAin't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\nI'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\nI'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\nCame a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\nNow it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\nDon't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\nThrow a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\nX told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\nI be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\nHold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\nDiamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\nDots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\nRap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\nIn the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\nStuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\nDodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\nFuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\nHit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\nAll this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\nGlock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\nBlack-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\nCountry-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\nStomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\nBeen fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\nK5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\nAin't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\nNow we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\nNo, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\nI been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\nThat lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\nI'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\nYou can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\nChrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row","syncedLyrics":"[00:08.07] (Tuned up)\n[00:11.78] (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n[00:14.67] 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n[00:16.72] Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n[00:18.52] All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n[00:20.45] I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n[00:22.74] Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n[00:24.78] 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n[00:26.55] Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n[00:28.20] When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n[00:29.63] Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n[00:33.89] Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n[00:37.24] I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n[00:41.18] I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n[00:44.85] Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n[00:49.03] Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n[00:52.68] Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n[00:56.67] Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n[01:00.26] X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n[01:04.07] I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n[01:07.76] Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n[01:11.75] Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n[01:15.77] Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n[01:19.33] Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n[01:23.20] In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n[01:27.14] Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n[01:30.75] Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n[01:34.84] Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n[01:38.58] 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n[01:42.53] Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n[01:46.43] All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n[01:50.25] Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n[01:53.70] Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n[01:57.69] Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n[02:01.47] 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n[02:05.33] Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n[02:09.24] Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n[02:12.92] K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n[02:16.62] Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n[02:20.59] Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n[02:24.41] No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n[02:28.04] I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n[02:31.47] That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n[02:35.75] I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n[02:39.52] You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n[02:43.43] Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n[02:47.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 600 Degrees\n  artist: BigXthaPlug\n  album: 600 Degrees\n  duration_ms: 177142\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Tuned up)\n  start_ms: 8070\n  end_ms: 11780\n- text: (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n  start_ms: 11780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 16720\n- text: Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  start_ms: 16720\n  end_ms: 18520\n- text: All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  start_ms: 18520\n  end_ms: 20450\n- text: I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n  start_ms: 20450\n  end_ms: 22740\n- text: Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  start_ms: 22740\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28200\n- text: When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n  start_ms: 28200\n  end_ms: 29630\n- text: Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  start_ms: 29630\n  end_ms: 33890\n- text: Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  start_ms: 33890\n  end_ms: 37240\n- text: I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  start_ms: 37240\n  end_ms: 41180\n- text: I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n  start_ms: 41180\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 49030\n- text: Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  start_ms: 49030\n  end_ms: 52680\n- text: Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  start_ms: 52680\n  end_ms: 56670\n- text: Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n  start_ms: 56670\n  end_ms: 60260\n- text: X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  start_ms: 60260\n  end_ms: 64070\n- text: I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  start_ms: 64070\n  end_ms: 67760\n- text: Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  start_ms: 67760\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 75770\n- text: Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  start_ms: 75770\n  end_ms: 79330\n- text: Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some 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Nigga, hell no\n  start_ms: 87140\n  end_ms: 90750\n- text: Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  start_ms: 90750\n  end_ms: 94840\n- text: Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  start_ms: 94840\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 102530\n- text: Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n  start_ms: 102530\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 110250\n- text: Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  start_ms: 110250\n  end_ms: 113700\n- text: Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  start_ms: 113700\n  end_ms: 117690\n- text: Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n  start_ms: 117690\n  end_ms: 121470\n- text: 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  start_ms: 121470\n  end_ms: 125330\n- text: Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  start_ms: 125330\n  end_ms: 129240\n- text: Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  start_ms: 129240\n  end_ms: 132920\n- text: K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n  start_ms: 132920\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 148040\n- text: I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n  start_ms: 148040\n  end_ms: 151470\n- text: That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  start_ms: 151470\n  end_ms: 155750\n- text: I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  start_ms: 155750\n  end_ms: 159520\n- text: You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  start_ms: 159520\n  end_ms: 163430\n- text: Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n  start_ms: 163430\n  end_ms: 167180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 167180\nplain: |-\n  (Tuned up)\n  (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n  600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\n  Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\n  Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\n  Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\n  X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\n  Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\n  Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\n  All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n  600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\n  Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\n  That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n"},{"id":32924417,"name":"600 Degrees (Paused)","trackName":"600 Degrees (Paused)","artistName":"BigXthaPlug","albumName":"600 Degrees","duration":177.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Tuned up)\n(Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\nDrop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\nAll on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\nI'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\nLet me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\nAy, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\nWhen it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\nYeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\nAin't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\nI'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\nI'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\nCame a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\nNow it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\nDon't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\nThrow a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\nX told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\nI be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\nHold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\nDiamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\nDots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\nRap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\nIn the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\nStuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\nDodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\nFuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\nHit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\nAll this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\nGlock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\nBlack-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\nCountry-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\nStomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\nBeen fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\nK5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\nAin't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\nNow we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\nNo, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\nI been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\nThat lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\nI'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\nYou can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\nChrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row","syncedLyrics":"[00:08.07] (Tuned up)\n[00:11.78] (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n[00:14.67] 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n[00:16.72] Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n[00:18.52] All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n[00:20.45] I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n[00:22.74] Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n[00:24.78] 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n[00:26.55] Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n[00:28.20] When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n[00:29.63] Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n[00:33.89] Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n[00:37.24] I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n[00:41.18] I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n[00:44.85] Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n[00:49.03] Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n[00:52.68] Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n[00:56.67] Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n[01:00.26] X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n[01:04.07] I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n[01:07.76] Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n[01:11.75] Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n[01:15.77] Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n[01:19.33] Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n[01:23.20] In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n[01:27.14] Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n[01:30.75] Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n[01:34.84] Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n[01:38.58] 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n[01:42.53] Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n[01:46.43] All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n[01:50.25] Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n[01:53.70] Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n[01:57.69] Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n[02:01.47] 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n[02:05.33] Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n[02:09.24] Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n[02:12.92] K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n[02:16.62] Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n[02:20.59] Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n[02:24.41] No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n[02:28.04] I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n[02:31.47] That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n[02:35.75] I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n[02:39.52] You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n[02:43.43] Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n[02:47.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 600 Degrees (Paused)\n  artist: BigXthaPlug\n  album: 600 Degrees\n  duration_ms: 177000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Tuned up)\n  start_ms: 8070\n  end_ms: 11780\n- text: (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n  start_ms: 11780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 16720\n- text: Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  start_ms: 16720\n  end_ms: 18520\n- text: All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  start_ms: 18520\n  end_ms: 20450\n- text: I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n  start_ms: 20450\n  end_ms: 22740\n- text: Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  start_ms: 22740\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28200\n- text: When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n  start_ms: 28200\n  end_ms: 29630\n- text: Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  start_ms: 29630\n  end_ms: 33890\n- text: Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  start_ms: 33890\n  end_ms: 37240\n- text: I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  start_ms: 37240\n  end_ms: 41180\n- text: I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n  start_ms: 41180\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 49030\n- text: Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  start_ms: 49030\n  end_ms: 52680\n- text: Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  start_ms: 52680\n  end_ms: 56670\n- text: Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n  start_ms: 56670\n  end_ms: 60260\n- text: X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  start_ms: 60260\n  end_ms: 64070\n- text: I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  start_ms: 64070\n  end_ms: 67760\n- text: Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  start_ms: 67760\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 75770\n- text: Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  start_ms: 75770\n  end_ms: 79330\n- text: Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  start_ms: 79330\n  end_ms: 83200\n- text: In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  start_ms: 83200\n  end_ms: 87140\n- text: Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n  start_ms: 87140\n  end_ms: 90750\n- text: Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  start_ms: 90750\n  end_ms: 94840\n- text: Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  start_ms: 94840\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 102530\n- text: Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n  start_ms: 102530\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 110250\n- text: Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  start_ms: 110250\n  end_ms: 113700\n- text: Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  start_ms: 113700\n  end_ms: 117690\n- text: Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n  start_ms: 117690\n  end_ms: 121470\n- text: 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  start_ms: 121470\n  end_ms: 125330\n- text: Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  start_ms: 125330\n  end_ms: 129240\n- text: Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  start_ms: 129240\n  end_ms: 132920\n- text: K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n  start_ms: 132920\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 148040\n- text: I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n  start_ms: 148040\n  end_ms: 151470\n- text: That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  start_ms: 151470\n  end_ms: 155750\n- text: I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  start_ms: 155750\n  end_ms: 159520\n- text: You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  start_ms: 159520\n  end_ms: 163430\n- text: Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n  start_ms: 163430\n  end_ms: 167180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 167180\nplain: |-\n  (Tuned up)\n  (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n  600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\n  Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\n  Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\n  Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\n  X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\n  Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\n  Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\n  All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n  600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\n  Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\n  That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n"},{"id":31440311,"name":"600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB)","trackName":"600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB)","artistName":"BigXthaPlug","albumName":"600 Degrees","duration":178.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Tuned up)\n(Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\nDrop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\nAll on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\nI'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\nLet me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\nAy, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\nWhen it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\nYeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\nAin't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\nI'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\nI'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\nCame a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\nNow it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\nDon't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\nThrow a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\nX told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\nI be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\nHold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\nDiamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\nDots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\nRap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\nIn the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\nStuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\nDodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\nFuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\nHit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\nAll this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\nGlock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\nBlack-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\nCountry-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\nStomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\nBeen fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\nK5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\nAin't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\nNow we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\nNo, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\nI been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\nThat lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\nI'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\nYou can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\nChrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row","syncedLyrics":"[00:08.07] (Tuned up)\n[00:11.78] (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n[00:14.67] 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n[00:16.72] Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n[00:18.52] All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n[00:20.45] I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n[00:22.74] Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n[00:24.78] 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n[00:26.55] Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n[00:28.20] When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n[00:29.63] Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n[00:33.89] Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n[00:37.24] I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n[00:41.18] I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n[00:44.85] Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n[00:49.03] Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n[00:52.68] Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n[00:56.67] Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n[01:00.26] X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n[01:04.07] I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n[01:07.76] Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n[01:11.75] Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n[01:15.77] Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n[01:19.33] Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n[01:23.20] In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n[01:27.14] Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n[01:30.75] Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n[01:34.84] Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n[01:38.58] 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n[01:42.53] Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n[01:46.43] All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n[01:50.25] Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n[01:53.70] Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n[01:57.69] Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n[02:01.47] 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n[02:05.33] Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n[02:09.24] Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n[02:12.92] K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n[02:16.62] Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n[02:20.59] Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n[02:24.41] No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n[02:28.04] I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n[02:31.47] That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n[02:35.75] I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n[02:39.52] You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n[02:43.43] Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n[02:47.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB)\n  artist: BigXthaPlug\n  album: 600 Degrees\n  duration_ms: 178000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Tuned up)\n  start_ms: 8070\n  end_ms: 11780\n- text: (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n  start_ms: 11780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 16720\n- text: Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  start_ms: 16720\n  end_ms: 18520\n- text: All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  start_ms: 18520\n  end_ms: 20450\n- text: I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n  start_ms: 20450\n  end_ms: 22740\n- text: Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  start_ms: 22740\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28200\n- text: When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n  start_ms: 28200\n  end_ms: 29630\n- text: Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  start_ms: 29630\n  end_ms: 33890\n- text: Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  start_ms: 33890\n  end_ms: 37240\n- text: I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  start_ms: 37240\n  end_ms: 41180\n- text: I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n  start_ms: 41180\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 49030\n- text: Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  start_ms: 49030\n  end_ms: 52680\n- text: Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  start_ms: 52680\n  end_ms: 56670\n- text: Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n  start_ms: 56670\n  end_ms: 60260\n- text: X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  start_ms: 60260\n  end_ms: 64070\n- text: I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  start_ms: 64070\n  end_ms: 67760\n- text: Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  start_ms: 67760\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 75770\n- text: Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  start_ms: 75770\n  end_ms: 79330\n- text: Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  start_ms: 79330\n  end_ms: 83200\n- text: In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  start_ms: 83200\n  end_ms: 87140\n- text: Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n  start_ms: 87140\n  end_ms: 90750\n- text: Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  start_ms: 90750\n  end_ms: 94840\n- text: Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  start_ms: 94840\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 102530\n- text: Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n  start_ms: 102530\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 110250\n- text: Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  start_ms: 110250\n  end_ms: 113700\n- text: Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  start_ms: 113700\n  end_ms: 117690\n- text: Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n  start_ms: 117690\n  end_ms: 121470\n- text: 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  start_ms: 121470\n  end_ms: 125330\n- text: Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  start_ms: 125330\n  end_ms: 129240\n- text: Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  start_ms: 129240\n  end_ms: 132920\n- text: K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n  start_ms: 132920\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 148040\n- text: I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n  start_ms: 148040\n  end_ms: 151470\n- text: That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  start_ms: 151470\n  end_ms: 155750\n- text: I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  start_ms: 155750\n  end_ms: 159520\n- text: You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  start_ms: 159520\n  end_ms: 163430\n- text: Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n  start_ms: 163430\n  end_ms: 167180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 167180\nplain: |-\n  (Tuned up)\n  (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n  600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\n  Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\n  Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\n  Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\n  X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\n  Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\n  Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\n  All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n  600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\n  Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\n  That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n"},{"id":26222935,"name":"600 Degrees","trackName":"600 Degrees","artistName":"BigXthaPlug","albumName":"600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB) - Single","duration":177.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Tuned up)\n(Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\nDrop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\nAll on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\nI'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\nLet me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\nAy, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\nWhen it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\nYeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\nAin't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\nI'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\nI'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\nCame a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\nNow it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\nDon't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\nThrow a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\nX told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\nI be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\nHold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\nDiamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\nDots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\nRap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\nIn the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\nStuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\nDodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\nFuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\nHit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\nAll this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\nGlock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\nBlack-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\nCountry-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\nStomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\nBeen fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\nK5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\nAin't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\nNow we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\nNo, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\nI been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\nThat lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\nI'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\nYou can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\nChrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row","syncedLyrics":"[00:08.07] (Tuned up)\n[00:11.78] (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n[00:14.67] 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n[00:16.72] Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n[00:18.52] All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n[00:20.45] I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n[00:22.74] Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n[00:24.78] 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n[00:26.55] Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n[00:28.20] When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n[00:29.63] Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n[00:33.89] Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n[00:37.24] I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n[00:41.18] I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n[00:44.85] Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n[00:49.03] Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n[00:52.68] Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n[00:56.67] Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n[01:00.26] X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n[01:04.07] I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n[01:07.76] Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n[01:11.75] Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n[01:15.77] Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n[01:19.33] Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n[01:23.20] In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n[01:27.14] Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n[01:30.75] Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n[01:34.84] Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n[01:38.58] 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n[01:42.53] Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n[01:46.43] All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n[01:50.25] Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n[01:53.70] Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n[01:57.69] Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n[02:01.47] 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n[02:05.33] Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n[02:09.24] Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n[02:12.92] K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n[02:16.62] Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n[02:20.59] Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n[02:24.41] No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n[02:28.04] I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n[02:31.47] That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n[02:35.75] I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n[02:39.52] You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n[02:43.43] Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n[02:47.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 600 Degrees\n  artist: BigXthaPlug\n  album: 600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB) - Single\n  duration_ms: 177000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Tuned up)\n  start_ms: 8070\n  end_ms: 11780\n- text: (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n  start_ms: 11780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 16720\n- text: Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  start_ms: 16720\n  end_ms: 18520\n- text: All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  start_ms: 18520\n  end_ms: 20450\n- text: I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n  start_ms: 20450\n  end_ms: 22740\n- text: Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  start_ms: 22740\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28200\n- text: When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n  start_ms: 28200\n  end_ms: 29630\n- text: Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  start_ms: 29630\n  end_ms: 33890\n- text: Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  start_ms: 33890\n  end_ms: 37240\n- text: I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  start_ms: 37240\n  end_ms: 41180\n- text: I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n  start_ms: 41180\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 49030\n- text: Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  start_ms: 49030\n  end_ms: 52680\n- text: Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  start_ms: 52680\n  end_ms: 56670\n- text: Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n  start_ms: 56670\n  end_ms: 60260\n- text: X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  start_ms: 60260\n  end_ms: 64070\n- text: I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  start_ms: 64070\n  end_ms: 67760\n- text: Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  start_ms: 67760\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 75770\n- text: Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  start_ms: 75770\n  end_ms: 79330\n- text: Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  start_ms: 79330\n  end_ms: 83200\n- text: In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  start_ms: 83200\n  end_ms: 87140\n- text: Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n  start_ms: 87140\n  end_ms: 90750\n- text: Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  start_ms: 90750\n  end_ms: 94840\n- text: Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  start_ms: 94840\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 102530\n- text: Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n  start_ms: 102530\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 110250\n- text: Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  start_ms: 110250\n  end_ms: 113700\n- text: Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  start_ms: 113700\n  end_ms: 117690\n- text: Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n  start_ms: 117690\n  end_ms: 121470\n- text: 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  start_ms: 121470\n  end_ms: 125330\n- text: Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  start_ms: 125330\n  end_ms: 129240\n- text: Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  start_ms: 129240\n  end_ms: 132920\n- text: K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n  start_ms: 132920\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 148040\n- text: I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n  start_ms: 148040\n  end_ms: 151470\n- text: That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  start_ms: 151470\n  end_ms: 155750\n- text: I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  start_ms: 155750\n  end_ms: 159520\n- text: You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  start_ms: 159520\n  end_ms: 163430\n- text: Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n  start_ms: 163430\n  end_ms: 167180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 167180\nplain: |-\n  (Tuned up)\n  (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n  600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\n  Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\n  Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\n  Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\n  X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\n  Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\n  Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\n  All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n  600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\n  Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\n  That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n"},{"id":30109100,"name":"600 Degrees","trackName":"600 Degrees","artistName":"BigXthaPlug, Ro$ama","albumName":"600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB) - Single","duration":177.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Tuned up)\n(Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\nDrop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\nAll on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\nI'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\nLet me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\nAy, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\nWhen it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\nYeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\nAin't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\nI'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\nI'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\nCame a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\nNow it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\nDon't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\nThrow a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\nX told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\nI be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\nHold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\nDiamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\nDots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\nRap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\nIn the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\nStuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\nDodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\nFuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\nHit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\nAll this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\nGlock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\nBlack-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\nCountry-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\nStomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\nBeen fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\nK5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\nAin't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\nNow we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\nNo, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\nI been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\nThat lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\nI'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\nYou can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\nChrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row","syncedLyrics":"[00:08.07] (Tuned up)\n[00:11.78] (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n[00:14.67] 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n[00:16.72] Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n[00:18.52] All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n[00:20.45] I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n[00:22.74] Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n[00:24.78] 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n[00:26.55] Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n[00:28.20] When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n[00:29.63] Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n[00:33.89] Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n[00:37.24] I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n[00:41.18] I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n[00:44.85] Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n[00:49.03] Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n[00:52.68] Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n[00:56.67] Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n[01:00.26] X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n[01:04.07] I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n[01:07.76] Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n[01:11.75] Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n[01:15.77] Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n[01:19.33] Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n[01:23.20] In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n[01:27.14] Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n[01:30.75] Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n[01:34.84] Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n[01:38.58] 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n[01:42.53] Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n[01:46.43] All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n[01:50.25] Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n[01:53.70] Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n[01:57.69] Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n[02:01.47] 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n[02:05.33] Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n[02:09.24] Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n[02:12.92] K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n[02:16.62] Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n[02:20.59] Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n[02:24.41] No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n[02:28.04] I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n[02:31.47] That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n[02:35.75] I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n[02:39.52] You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n[02:43.43] Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n[02:47.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 600 Degrees\n  artist: BigXthaPlug, Ro$ama\n  album: 600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB) - Single\n  duration_ms: 177000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Tuned up)\n  start_ms: 8070\n  end_ms: 11780\n- text: (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n  start_ms: 11780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 16720\n- text: Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  start_ms: 16720\n  end_ms: 18520\n- text: All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  start_ms: 18520\n  end_ms: 20450\n- text: I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n  start_ms: 20450\n  end_ms: 22740\n- text: Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  start_ms: 22740\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28200\n- text: When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n  start_ms: 28200\n  end_ms: 29630\n- text: Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  start_ms: 29630\n  end_ms: 33890\n- text: Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  start_ms: 33890\n  end_ms: 37240\n- text: I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  start_ms: 37240\n  end_ms: 41180\n- text: I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n  start_ms: 41180\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 49030\n- text: Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  start_ms: 49030\n  end_ms: 52680\n- text: Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  start_ms: 52680\n  end_ms: 56670\n- text: Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n  start_ms: 56670\n  end_ms: 60260\n- text: X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  start_ms: 60260\n  end_ms: 64070\n- text: I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  start_ms: 64070\n  end_ms: 67760\n- text: Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  start_ms: 67760\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 75770\n- text: Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  start_ms: 75770\n  end_ms: 79330\n- text: Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  start_ms: 79330\n  end_ms: 83200\n- text: In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  start_ms: 83200\n  end_ms: 87140\n- text: Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n  start_ms: 87140\n  end_ms: 90750\n- text: Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  start_ms: 90750\n  end_ms: 94840\n- text: Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  start_ms: 94840\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 102530\n- text: Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n  start_ms: 102530\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 110250\n- text: Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  start_ms: 110250\n  end_ms: 113700\n- text: Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  start_ms: 113700\n  end_ms: 117690\n- text: Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n  start_ms: 117690\n  end_ms: 121470\n- text: 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  start_ms: 121470\n  end_ms: 125330\n- text: Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  start_ms: 125330\n  end_ms: 129240\n- text: Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  start_ms: 129240\n  end_ms: 132920\n- text: K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n  start_ms: 132920\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 148040\n- text: I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n  start_ms: 148040\n  end_ms: 151470\n- text: That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  start_ms: 151470\n  end_ms: 155750\n- text: I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  start_ms: 155750\n  end_ms: 159520\n- text: You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  start_ms: 159520\n  end_ms: 163430\n- text: Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n  start_ms: 163430\n  end_ms: 167180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 167180\nplain: |-\n  (Tuned up)\n  (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n  600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\n  Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\n  Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\n  Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\n  X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\n  Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\n  Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\n  All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n  600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\n  Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\n  That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n"},{"id":26222932,"name":"600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB)","trackName":"600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB)","artistName":"BigXthaPlug","albumName":"600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB) - Single","duration":177.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Tuned up)\n(Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\nDrop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\nAll on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\nI'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\nLet me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\nAy, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\nWhen it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\nYeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\nAin't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\nI'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\nI'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\nCame a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\nNow it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\nDon't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\nThrow a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\nX told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\nI be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\nHold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\nDiamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\nDots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\nRap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\nIn the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\nStuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\nDodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\nFuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\nHit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\nAll this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\nGlock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\nBlack-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\nCountry-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\nStomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\nBeen fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\nK5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\nAin't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\nNow we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\nNo, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\nI been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\nThat lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\nI'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\nYou can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\nChrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row","syncedLyrics":"[00:08.07] (Tuned up)\n[00:11.78] (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n[00:14.67] 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n[00:16.72] Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n[00:18.52] All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n[00:20.45] I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n[00:22.74] Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n[00:24.78] 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n[00:26.55] Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n[00:28.20] When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n[00:29.63] Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n[00:33.89] Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n[00:37.24] I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n[00:41.18] I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n[00:44.85] Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n[00:49.03] Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n[00:52.68] Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n[00:56.67] Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n[01:00.26] X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n[01:04.07] I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n[01:07.76] Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n[01:11.75] Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n[01:15.77] Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n[01:19.33] Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n[01:23.20] In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n[01:27.14] Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n[01:30.75] Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n[01:34.84] Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n[01:38.58] 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n[01:42.53] Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n[01:46.43] All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n[01:50.25] Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n[01:53.70] Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n[01:57.69] Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n[02:01.47] 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n[02:05.33] Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n[02:09.24] Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n[02:12.92] K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n[02:16.62] Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n[02:20.59] Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n[02:24.41] No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n[02:28.04] I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n[02:31.47] That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n[02:35.75] I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n[02:39.52] You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n[02:43.43] Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n[02:47.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB)\n  artist: BigXthaPlug\n  album: 600 Degrees (feat. MurdaGang PB) - Single\n  duration_ms: 177000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Tuned up)\n  start_ms: 8070\n  end_ms: 11780\n- text: (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n  start_ms: 11780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 16720\n- text: Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  start_ms: 16720\n  end_ms: 18520\n- text: All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  start_ms: 18520\n  end_ms: 20450\n- text: I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n  start_ms: 20450\n  end_ms: 22740\n- text: Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  start_ms: 22740\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28200\n- text: When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n  start_ms: 28200\n  end_ms: 29630\n- text: Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  start_ms: 29630\n  end_ms: 33890\n- text: Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  start_ms: 33890\n  end_ms: 37240\n- text: I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  start_ms: 37240\n  end_ms: 41180\n- text: I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n  start_ms: 41180\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 49030\n- text: Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  start_ms: 49030\n  end_ms: 52680\n- text: Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  start_ms: 52680\n  end_ms: 56670\n- text: Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n  start_ms: 56670\n  end_ms: 60260\n- text: X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  start_ms: 60260\n  end_ms: 64070\n- text: I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  start_ms: 64070\n  end_ms: 67760\n- text: Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  start_ms: 67760\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 75770\n- text: Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  start_ms: 75770\n  end_ms: 79330\n- text: Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  start_ms: 79330\n  end_ms: 83200\n- text: In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  start_ms: 83200\n  end_ms: 87140\n- text: Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n  start_ms: 87140\n  end_ms: 90750\n- text: Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  start_ms: 90750\n  end_ms: 94840\n- text: Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  start_ms: 94840\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 102530\n- text: Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n  start_ms: 102530\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 110250\n- text: Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  start_ms: 110250\n  end_ms: 113700\n- text: Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  start_ms: 113700\n  end_ms: 117690\n- text: Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n  start_ms: 117690\n  end_ms: 121470\n- text: 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  start_ms: 121470\n  end_ms: 125330\n- text: Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  start_ms: 125330\n  end_ms: 129240\n- text: Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  start_ms: 129240\n  end_ms: 132920\n- text: K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n  start_ms: 132920\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 148040\n- text: I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n  start_ms: 148040\n  end_ms: 151470\n- text: That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  start_ms: 151470\n  end_ms: 155750\n- text: I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  start_ms: 155750\n  end_ms: 159520\n- text: You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  start_ms: 159520\n  end_ms: 163430\n- text: Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n  start_ms: 163430\n  end_ms: 167180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 167180\nplain: |-\n  (Tuned up)\n  (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n  600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\n  Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\n  Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\n  Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\n  X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\n  Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\n  Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\n  All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n  600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\n  Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\n  That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n"},{"id":31289735,"name":"600 DEGREES","trackName":"600 DEGREES","artistName":"BigXthaPlug","albumName":"6WA","duration":177.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Tuned up)\n(Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\nDrop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\nAll on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\nI'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\nLet me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\nAy, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\nWhen it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\nYeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\nAin't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\nI'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\nI'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\nCame a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\nNow it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\nDon't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\nThrow a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\nX told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\nI be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\nHold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\nDiamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\nDots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\nRap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\nIn the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\nStuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\nDodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\nFuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\nHit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\nAll this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\nGlock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\nBlack-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\nCountry-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\nStomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\nBeen fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\nK5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\nAin't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\nNow we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\nNo, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\nI been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\nThat lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\nI'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\nYou can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\nChrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row","syncedLyrics":"[00:08.07] (Tuned up)\n[00:11.78] (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n[00:14.67] 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n[00:16.72] Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n[00:18.52] All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n[00:20.45] I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n[00:22.74] Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n[00:24.78] 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n[00:26.55] Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n[00:28.20] When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n[00:29.63] Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n[00:33.89] Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n[00:37.24] I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n[00:41.18] I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n[00:44.85] Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n[00:49.03] Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n[00:52.68] Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n[00:56.67] Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n[01:00.26] X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n[01:04.07] I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n[01:07.76] Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n[01:11.75] Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n[01:15.77] Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n[01:19.33] Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n[01:23.20] In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n[01:27.14] Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n[01:30.75] Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n[01:34.84] Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n[01:38.58] 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n[01:42.53] Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n[01:46.43] All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n[01:50.25] Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n[01:53.70] Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n[01:57.69] Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n[02:01.47] 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n[02:05.33] Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n[02:09.24] Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n[02:12.92] K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n[02:16.62] Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n[02:20.59] Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n[02:24.41] No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n[02:28.04] I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n[02:31.47] That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n[02:35.75] I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n[02:39.52] You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n[02:43.43] Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n[02:47.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 600 DEGREES\n  artist: BigXthaPlug\n  album: 6WA\n  duration_ms: 177000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Tuned up)\n  start_ms: 8070\n  end_ms: 11780\n- text: (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n  start_ms: 11780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 16720\n- text: Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  start_ms: 16720\n  end_ms: 18520\n- text: All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  start_ms: 18520\n  end_ms: 20450\n- text: I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n  start_ms: 20450\n  end_ms: 22740\n- text: Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  start_ms: 22740\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28200\n- text: When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n  start_ms: 28200\n  end_ms: 29630\n- text: Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  start_ms: 29630\n  end_ms: 33890\n- text: Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  start_ms: 33890\n  end_ms: 37240\n- text: I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  start_ms: 37240\n  end_ms: 41180\n- text: I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n  start_ms: 41180\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 49030\n- text: Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  start_ms: 49030\n  end_ms: 52680\n- text: Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  start_ms: 52680\n  end_ms: 56670\n- text: Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n  start_ms: 56670\n  end_ms: 60260\n- text: X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  start_ms: 60260\n  end_ms: 64070\n- text: I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  start_ms: 64070\n  end_ms: 67760\n- text: Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  start_ms: 67760\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 75770\n- text: Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  start_ms: 75770\n  end_ms: 79330\n- text: Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  start_ms: 79330\n  end_ms: 83200\n- text: In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  start_ms: 83200\n  end_ms: 87140\n- text: Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n  start_ms: 87140\n  end_ms: 90750\n- text: Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  start_ms: 90750\n  end_ms: 94840\n- text: Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  start_ms: 94840\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 102530\n- text: Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n  start_ms: 102530\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 110250\n- text: Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  start_ms: 110250\n  end_ms: 113700\n- text: Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  start_ms: 113700\n  end_ms: 117690\n- text: Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n  start_ms: 117690\n  end_ms: 121470\n- text: 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  start_ms: 121470\n  end_ms: 125330\n- text: Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  start_ms: 125330\n  end_ms: 129240\n- text: Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  start_ms: 129240\n  end_ms: 132920\n- text: K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n  start_ms: 132920\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 148040\n- text: I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n  start_ms: 148040\n  end_ms: 151470\n- text: That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  start_ms: 151470\n  end_ms: 155750\n- text: I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  start_ms: 155750\n  end_ms: 159520\n- text: You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  start_ms: 159520\n  end_ms: 163430\n- text: Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n  start_ms: 163430\n  end_ms: 167180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 167180\nplain: |-\n  (Tuned up)\n  (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n  600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\n  Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\n  Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\n  Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\n  X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\n  Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\n  Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\n  All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n  600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\n  Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\n  That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n"},{"id":39864224,"name":"600 DEGREES","trackName":"600 DEGREES","artistName":"BigXthaPlug","albumName":"6WA","duration":165.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Tuned up)\n(Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\nDrop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\nAll on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\nI'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\nLet me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\nAy, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\nWhen it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\nYeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\nAin't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\nI'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\nI'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\nCame a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\nNow it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\nDon't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\nThrow a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\nX told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\nI be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\nHold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\nDiamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\nDots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\nRap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\nIn the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\nStuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\nDodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\nFuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\nHit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\nAll this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\nGlock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\nBlack-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\nCountry-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\nStomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\nBeen fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\nK5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\nAin't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\nNow we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\nNo, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\nI been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\nThat lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\nI'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\nYou can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\nChrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row","syncedLyrics":"[00:08.07](Tuned up)\n[00:11.78](Ayo, Sheff) ay\n[00:14.67]600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n[00:16.72]Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n[00:18.52]All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n[00:20.45]I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n[00:22.74]Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n[00:24.78]200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n[00:26.55]Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n[00:28.20]When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n[00:29.63]Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n[00:33.89]Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n[00:37.24]I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n[00:41.18]I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n[00:44.85]Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n[00:49.03]Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n[00:52.68]Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n[00:56.67]Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n[01:00.26]X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n[01:04.07]I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n[01:07.76]Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n[01:11.75]Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n[01:15.77]Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n[01:19.33]Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n[01:23.20]In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n[01:27.14]Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n[01:30.75]Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n[01:34.84]Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n[01:38.58]1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n[01:42.53]Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n[01:46.43]All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n[01:50.25]Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n[01:53.70]Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n[01:57.69]Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n[02:01.47]600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n[02:05.33]Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n[02:09.24]Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n[02:12.92]K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n[02:16.62]Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n[02:20.59]Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n[02:24.41]No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n[02:28.04]I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n[02:31.47]That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n[02:35.75]I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n[02:39.52]You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n[02:43.43]Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n[02:47.18]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 600 DEGREES\n  artist: BigXthaPlug\n  album: 6WA\n  duration_ms: 165000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Tuned up)\n  start_ms: 8070\n  end_ms: 11780\n- text: (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n  start_ms: 11780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 16720\n- text: Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  start_ms: 16720\n  end_ms: 18520\n- text: All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  start_ms: 18520\n  end_ms: 20450\n- text: I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n  start_ms: 20450\n  end_ms: 22740\n- text: Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  start_ms: 22740\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28200\n- text: When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n  start_ms: 28200\n  end_ms: 29630\n- text: Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  start_ms: 29630\n  end_ms: 33890\n- text: Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  start_ms: 33890\n  end_ms: 37240\n- text: I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  start_ms: 37240\n  end_ms: 41180\n- text: I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n  start_ms: 41180\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 49030\n- text: Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  start_ms: 49030\n  end_ms: 52680\n- text: Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  start_ms: 52680\n  end_ms: 56670\n- text: Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n  start_ms: 56670\n  end_ms: 60260\n- text: X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  start_ms: 60260\n  end_ms: 64070\n- text: I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  start_ms: 64070\n  end_ms: 67760\n- text: Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  start_ms: 67760\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 75770\n- text: Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  start_ms: 75770\n  end_ms: 79330\n- text: Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  start_ms: 79330\n  end_ms: 83200\n- text: In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  start_ms: 83200\n  end_ms: 87140\n- text: Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n  start_ms: 87140\n  end_ms: 90750\n- text: Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  start_ms: 90750\n  end_ms: 94840\n- text: Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  start_ms: 94840\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 102530\n- text: Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n  start_ms: 102530\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 110250\n- text: Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  start_ms: 110250\n  end_ms: 113700\n- text: Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  start_ms: 113700\n  end_ms: 117690\n- text: Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n  start_ms: 117690\n  end_ms: 121470\n- text: 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  start_ms: 121470\n  end_ms: 125330\n- text: Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  start_ms: 125330\n  end_ms: 129240\n- text: Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  start_ms: 129240\n  end_ms: 132920\n- text: K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n  start_ms: 132920\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 148040\n- text: I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n  start_ms: 148040\n  end_ms: 151470\n- text: That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  start_ms: 151470\n  end_ms: 155750\n- text: I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  start_ms: 155750\n  end_ms: 159520\n- text: You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  start_ms: 159520\n  end_ms: 163430\n- text: Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n  start_ms: 163430\n  end_ms: 167180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 167180\nplain: |-\n  (Tuned up)\n  (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n  600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\n  Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\n  Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\n  Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\n  X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\n  Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\n  Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\n  All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n  600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\n  Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\n  That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n"},{"id":32189104,"name":"600 DEGREES (Paused)","trackName":"600 DEGREES (Paused)","artistName":"BigXthaPlug","albumName":"6WA","duration":177.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Tuned up)\n(Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\nDrop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\nAll on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\nI'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\nLet me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\nAy, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\nWhen it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\nYeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\nAin't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\nI'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\nI'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\nCame a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\nNow it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\nDon't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\nThrow a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\nX told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\nI be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\nHold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\nDiamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\nDots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\nRap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\nIn the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\nStuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\nDodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\nFuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\nHit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\nAll this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\nGlock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\nBlack-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\nCountry-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\nStomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\nBeen fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\nK5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\nAin't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\nNow we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\nNo, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\nI been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\nThat lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\nI'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\nYou can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\nChrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row","syncedLyrics":"[00:08.07] (Tuned up)\n[00:11.78] (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n[00:14.67] 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n[00:16.72] Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n[00:18.52] All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n[00:20.45] I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n[00:22.74] Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n[00:24.78] 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n[00:26.55] Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n[00:28.20] When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n[00:29.63] Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n[00:33.89] Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n[00:37.24] I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n[00:41.18] I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n[00:44.85] Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n[00:49.03] Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n[00:52.68] Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n[00:56.67] Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n[01:00.26] X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n[01:04.07] I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n[01:07.76] Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n[01:11.75] Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n[01:15.77] Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n[01:19.33] Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n[01:23.20] In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n[01:27.14] Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n[01:30.75] Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n[01:34.84] Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n[01:38.58] 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n[01:42.53] Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n[01:46.43] All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n[01:50.25] Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n[01:53.70] Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n[01:57.69] Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n[02:01.47] 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n[02:05.33] Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n[02:09.24] Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n[02:12.92] K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n[02:16.62] Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n[02:20.59] Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n[02:24.41] No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n[02:28.04] I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n[02:31.47] That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n[02:35.75] I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n[02:39.52] You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n[02:43.43] Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n[02:47.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 600 DEGREES (Paused)\n  artist: BigXthaPlug\n  album: 6WA\n  duration_ms: 177000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Tuned up)\n  start_ms: 8070\n  end_ms: 11780\n- text: (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n  start_ms: 11780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 16720\n- text: Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  start_ms: 16720\n  end_ms: 18520\n- text: All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  start_ms: 18520\n  end_ms: 20450\n- text: I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n  start_ms: 20450\n  end_ms: 22740\n- text: Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  start_ms: 22740\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28200\n- text: When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n  start_ms: 28200\n  end_ms: 29630\n- text: Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  start_ms: 29630\n  end_ms: 33890\n- text: Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  start_ms: 33890\n  end_ms: 37240\n- text: I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  start_ms: 37240\n  end_ms: 41180\n- text: I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n  start_ms: 41180\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 49030\n- text: Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  start_ms: 49030\n  end_ms: 52680\n- text: Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  start_ms: 52680\n  end_ms: 56670\n- text: Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n  start_ms: 56670\n  end_ms: 60260\n- text: X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  start_ms: 60260\n  end_ms: 64070\n- text: I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  start_ms: 64070\n  end_ms: 67760\n- text: Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  start_ms: 67760\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 75770\n- text: Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  start_ms: 75770\n  end_ms: 79330\n- text: Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  start_ms: 79330\n  end_ms: 83200\n- text: In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  start_ms: 83200\n  end_ms: 87140\n- text: Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n  start_ms: 87140\n  end_ms: 90750\n- text: Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  start_ms: 90750\n  end_ms: 94840\n- text: Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  start_ms: 94840\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 102530\n- text: Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n  start_ms: 102530\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 110250\n- text: Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  start_ms: 110250\n  end_ms: 113700\n- text: Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  start_ms: 113700\n  end_ms: 117690\n- text: Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n  start_ms: 117690\n  end_ms: 121470\n- text: 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  start_ms: 121470\n  end_ms: 125330\n- text: Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  start_ms: 125330\n  end_ms: 129240\n- text: Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  start_ms: 129240\n  end_ms: 132920\n- text: K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n  start_ms: 132920\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 148040\n- text: I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n  start_ms: 148040\n  end_ms: 151470\n- text: That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  start_ms: 151470\n  end_ms: 155750\n- text: I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  start_ms: 155750\n  end_ms: 159520\n- text: You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  start_ms: 159520\n  end_ms: 163430\n- text: Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n  start_ms: 163430\n  end_ms: 167180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 167180\nplain: |-\n  (Tuned up)\n  (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n  600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\n  Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\n  Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\n  Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\n  X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\n  Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\n  Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\n  All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n  600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\n  Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\n  That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n"},{"id":31544893,"name":"600 Degrees feat. Ro$ama, MurdaGang PB & Yung Hood","trackName":"600 Degrees feat. Ro$ama, MurdaGang PB & Yung Hood","artistName":"BigXthaPlug & 600 Entertainment","albumName":"6WA","duration":177.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Tuned up)\n(Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\nDrop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\nAll on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\nI'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\nLet me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\nAy, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\nWhen it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\nYeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\nAin't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\nI'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\nI'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\nCame a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\nNow it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\nDon't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\nThrow a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\nX told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\nI be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\nHold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\nDiamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\nDots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\nRap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\nIn the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\nStuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\nDodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\nFuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\nHit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\nAll this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\nGlock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\nBlack-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\nCountry-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\nStomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\nBeen fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\nK5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\nAin't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\nNow we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\nNo, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\nI been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\nThat lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\nI'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\nYou can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\nChrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row","syncedLyrics":"[00:08.07] (Tuned up)\n[00:11.78] (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n[00:14.67] 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n[00:16.72] Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n[00:18.52] All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n[00:20.45] I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n[00:22.74] Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n[00:24.78] 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n[00:26.55] Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n[00:28.20] When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n[00:29.63] Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n[00:33.89] Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n[00:37.24] I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n[00:41.18] I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n[00:44.85] Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n[00:49.03] Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n[00:52.68] Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n[00:56.67] Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n[01:00.26] X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n[01:04.07] I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n[01:07.76] Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n[01:11.75] Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n[01:15.77] Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n[01:19.33] Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n[01:23.20] In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n[01:27.14] Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n[01:30.75] Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n[01:34.84] Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n[01:38.58] 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n[01:42.53] Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n[01:46.43] All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n[01:50.25] Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n[01:53.70] Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n[01:57.69] Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n[02:01.47] 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n[02:05.33] Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n[02:09.24] Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n[02:12.92] K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n[02:16.62] Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n[02:20.59] Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n[02:24.41] No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n[02:28.04] I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n[02:31.47] That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n[02:35.75] I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n[02:39.52] You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n[02:43.43] Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n[02:47.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 600 Degrees feat. Ro$ama, MurdaGang PB & Yung Hood\n  artist: BigXthaPlug & 600 Entertainment\n  album: 6WA\n  duration_ms: 177000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Tuned up)\n  start_ms: 8070\n  end_ms: 11780\n- text: (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n  start_ms: 11780\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: 600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 16720\n- text: Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  start_ms: 16720\n  end_ms: 18520\n- text: All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  start_ms: 18520\n  end_ms: 20450\n- text: I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n  start_ms: 20450\n  end_ms: 22740\n- text: Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  start_ms: 22740\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: 200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 26550\n- text: Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  start_ms: 26550\n  end_ms: 28200\n- text: When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n  start_ms: 28200\n  end_ms: 29630\n- text: Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  start_ms: 29630\n  end_ms: 33890\n- text: Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  start_ms: 33890\n  end_ms: 37240\n- text: I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  start_ms: 37240\n  end_ms: 41180\n- text: I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n  start_ms: 41180\n  end_ms: 44850\n- text: Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  start_ms: 44850\n  end_ms: 49030\n- text: Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  start_ms: 49030\n  end_ms: 52680\n- text: Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  start_ms: 52680\n  end_ms: 56670\n- text: Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n  start_ms: 56670\n  end_ms: 60260\n- text: X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  start_ms: 60260\n  end_ms: 64070\n- text: I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  start_ms: 64070\n  end_ms: 67760\n- text: Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  start_ms: 67760\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 75770\n- text: Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  start_ms: 75770\n  end_ms: 79330\n- text: Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  start_ms: 79330\n  end_ms: 83200\n- text: In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  start_ms: 83200\n  end_ms: 87140\n- text: Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n  start_ms: 87140\n  end_ms: 90750\n- text: Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  start_ms: 90750\n  end_ms: 94840\n- text: Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  start_ms: 94840\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: 1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 102530\n- text: Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n  start_ms: 102530\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 110250\n- text: Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  start_ms: 110250\n  end_ms: 113700\n- text: Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  start_ms: 113700\n  end_ms: 117690\n- text: Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n  start_ms: 117690\n  end_ms: 121470\n- text: 600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  start_ms: 121470\n  end_ms: 125330\n- text: Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  start_ms: 125330\n  end_ms: 129240\n- text: Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  start_ms: 129240\n  end_ms: 132920\n- text: K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n  start_ms: 132920\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 148040\n- text: I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n  start_ms: 148040\n  end_ms: 151470\n- text: That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  start_ms: 151470\n  end_ms: 155750\n- text: I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  start_ms: 155750\n  end_ms: 159520\n- text: You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  start_ms: 159520\n  end_ms: 163430\n- text: Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n  start_ms: 163430\n  end_ms: 167180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 167180\nplain: |-\n  (Tuned up)\n  (Ayo, Sheff) ay\n\n  600 the mob and we yet to be fucked with\n  Drop a bag, get him killed in his new 'fit\n  All on the 'net, but in person, ain't do shit\n  I'm the type get him robbed for his new kit\n\n  Let me chill and just talk 'bout this new shit\n  200 the dash and these diamonds on CC\n  Ay, your folks used to say you wouldn't be shit\n  When it's war in that field, it get deep, bitch\n\n  Yeah, it's cool, them boys did what they did, but I swear for God y'all shoulda killed me\n  Ain't do nothin' but make some more money, some millions, only right all them pussy boys fear me\n  I'm a Balenci' guy, really put it on, all them niggas around, who you puttin' on?\n  I'm a 600 repper, check every song, and, no, I can't give 'em no clout, we just get 'em gone\n\n  Came a long way from the city, but that don't mean shit 'cause I still got the block on my back\n  Now it hit a lil' different 'cause when I go get me a bag, I ain't gotta go flip me a pack\n  Don't get it fucked up with this rappin' shit, I still'll wrap some shit, go do a show, double bag a bitch\n  Throw a 6 and 8, 600, we crackin' shit, shit we doin', man, this shit, it ain't average\n\n  X told me rap, man, I can't even go slide, fuck it, I might just go spin one more time\n  I be ready to kill, I don't play about mine, put his face on a tee like a graphic design\n  Hold my wrist up, it's a two-tone Cartier, bitch, I'm up, drop a bag, get him outta here\n  Diamonds hittin', nigga look like a chandelier, brand-new Lam', I hit the gas and we disappear\n\n  Dots on his top, got him yellin' out, \"Bingo\", been gamblin' with life, nigga, fuck a casino\n  Rap or trap, tryna stay out a RICO, they say it was beef, get it chopped with some pico\n  In the club with a Drac', got it tucked in a peacoat, take a rap nigga chain, feel like Deebo\n  Stuck in the game, shit feel like Velcro, me let an opp nigga slide? Nigga, hell no\n\n  Dodgin' the alphabet, still lettin' L go, still the same nigga on the block with no mentor\n  Fuckin' off extras and countin' on Melrose, in Miami, I spent 'bout a dub on Lincoln Road\n  1250 for shoes, sellin' D for the low, it's just too much cappin', don't get killed for an ego\n  Hit the switch on the glick, ain't no need for a reload, all the rappin'-ass niggas just actin', CB4\n\n  All this bread at the table, shit look like Last Supper, speech disorder, chop got a bad stutter\n  Glock 23 with a 30, that's double-double, tryna drop e'rythang, Craig's in trouble\n  Black-face Rollie for all of the dark times, I know killers that only work part-time\n  Country-ass nigga, I'll step for some moonshine, get life in the sky if you go past this gun line\n\n  600 'grees, nigga, go check the Fahrenheit, we the type to come shoot up the candlelights\n  Stomach shot fuck up a nigga whole appetite, flower-print earrings shine brighter than panel light\n  Been fed the streets, this shit more like a mukbang, 20K on the ground, this shit chump change\n  K5 got a Glock, take the shot, then I slide the paper to him just like a gun range\n\n  Ain't gon' lie, I wasn't fuckin' with rappin' and shit, I was so used to spinnin' and smackin' on shit\n  Now we up, me and my niggas havin' this shit, can't you tell by the plaques, how they platinum and shit?\n  No, I ain't doin' no tusslin', VVS diamond, I'm rockin' this Cullinan\n  I been rappin', 'em pigs tried to stop me from hustlin', tryna figure out how to get package through customs\n\n  That lil' pussy a virgin, ain't got no bodies, put them P's on your head, Andy Milonakis\n  I'm all up in the grow with Lil Morgan on Wocky, in the D with the snipers, on the phone with the foxes\n  You can hear his heartbeat, nigga, go check the stethoscope, stuffin' green in the pack, sellin' medical\n  Chrome Heart 'fit, 8000 on Melrose, 600 mob, nigga, welcome to death row\n"}]