[{"id":15425123,"name":"America (feat. Schoolboy Q & Boaz)","trackName":"America (feat. Schoolboy Q & Boaz)","artistName":"Black Hippy","albumName":"Black Hippy","duration":250.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Being here in America doesn't make you an American\nBeing born here in America doesn't make you an American\nI see America through the eyes of the victim\nI don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\nPower to the people\n\nWe got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\nPut this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\nWe got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\nSee hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\nAnd we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\nFor those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\nAnd your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\nBy that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n\nOkay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\nThe crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\nMy young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\nI try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\nCause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\nThey gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves then kick the bucket for you\nStill throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\nMy homie just got out and locked up again\nCause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\nSpeakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\nMore chiefs than Indians\nThat's why I just be playin' my part (my part), keep doin' my thing thing\nMy phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\nMy hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\nCall me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\nGotta stay high to deal with all these characters\nCash rules everything all over America\n\nNa nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\nBullets ejecting enter give him a hot winter\nFrom a nobody nigga to top-tener\nTo bitches givin' head just hopin' that I remember\nObama lied, ain't see shit changed\nThe cocaine came, with no shame, we does our thing\nMy gang go bang, his blog be the same, her block be the same\nI just might get rid of that range and cop me a plane\nI'm ghetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga rich\nJesus Christ can't believe this shit\nThe pistol on me make me feel grave\nYa man murked could make you feel hate\nA murder squad get the?\nGod couldn't help me with the bills I pay\nSo I'm stealin' the collection plate\nPrayed to him, guess he answered late\nOn my knees just tired of tryin' to get his attention\nSo fuck it, I'm back to bitchin'\n\nEverybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\nWar goin' on right here, the president well aware\nCome through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\nWe in our own world from California to Delaware\nThe black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\nHow the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\nTo be doctor was my earlier plan\nTil experience let me know I had the world in my hand\nNow I got so many girls in my pants\nDon't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\nI see my fans, they all happen to ask\nYoung Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\nI'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\nYou see how I be doin' it\nI feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\nTo tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\nBet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.34] Being here in America doesn't make you an American\n[00:06.09] Being born here in America doesn't make you an American\n[00:10.57] I see America through the eyes of the victim\n[00:15.98] I don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\n[00:20.98] Power to the people\n[00:23.60] We got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\n[00:26.83] Put this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\n[00:30.07] We got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\n[00:33.26] See hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\n[00:35.96] And we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\n[00:38.62] For those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\n[00:42.24] And your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\n[00:45.02] By that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n[00:48.27] Okay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\n[00:51.41] The crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\n[00:55.15] My young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\n[00:57.88] I try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\n[01:01.43] Cause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\n[01:03.29] They gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves then kick the bucket for you\n[01:05.95] Still throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\n[01:09.66] My homie just got out and locked up again\n[01:12.31] Cause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\n[01:14.08] Speakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\n[01:16.27] More chiefs than Indians\n[01:18.19] That's why I just be playin' my part (my part), keep doin' my thing thing\n[01:21.71] My phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\n[01:24.90] My hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\n[01:27.92] Call me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\n[01:31.19] Gotta stay high to deal with all these characters\n[01:33.86] Cash rules everything all over America\n[01:36.52] Na nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\n[02:03.83] Bullets ejecting enter give him a hot winter\n[02:07.55] From a nobody nigga to top-tener\n[02:10.21] To bitches givin' head just hopin' that I remember\n[02:13.81] Obama lied, ain't see shit changed\n[02:16.54] The cocaine came, with no shame, we does our thing\n[02:19.20] My gang go bang, his blog be the same, her block be the same\n[02:22.95] I just might get rid of that range and cop me a plane\n[02:25.62] I'm ghetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga rich\n[02:28.37] Jesus Christ can't believe this shit\n[02:31.12] The pistol on me make me feel grave\n[02:33.43] Ya man murked could make you feel hate\n[02:35.72] A murder squad get the?\n[02:37.53] God couldn't help me with the bills I pay\n[02:41.11] So I'm stealin' the collection plate\n[02:43.04] Prayed to him, guess he answered late\n[02:44.58] On my knees just tired of tryin' to get his attention\n[02:48.20] So fuck it, I'm back to bitchin'\n[02:49.58] Everybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\n[03:15.98] War goin' on right here, the president well aware\n[03:20.05] Come through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\n[03:22.84] We in our own world from California to Delaware\n[03:26.49] The black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\n[03:29.24] How the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\n[03:32.41] To be doctor was my earlier plan\n[03:35.19] Til experience let me know I had the world in my hand\n[03:38.85] Now I got so many girls in my pants\n[03:41.02] Don't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\n[03:44.62] I see my fans, they all happen to ask\n[03:47.44] Young Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\n[03:50.18] I'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\n[03:51.94] You see how I be doin' it\n[03:54.28] I feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\n[03:56.94] To tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\n[03:59.24] Bet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'\n[04:01.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: America (feat. Schoolboy Q & Boaz)\n  artist: Black Hippy\n  album: Black Hippy\n  duration_ms: 250000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Being here in America doesn't make you an American\n  start_ms: 2340\n  end_ms: 6090\n- text: Being born here in America doesn't make you an American\n  start_ms: 6090\n  end_ms: 10570\n- text: I see America through the eyes of the victim\n  start_ms: 10570\n  end_ms: 15980\n- text: I don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\n  start_ms: 15980\n  end_ms: 20980\n- text: Power to the people\n  start_ms: 20980\n  end_ms: 23600\n- text: We got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\n  start_ms: 23600\n  end_ms: 26830\n- text: Put this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\n  start_ms: 26830\n  end_ms: 30070\n- text: We got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\n  start_ms: 30070\n  end_ms: 33260\n- text: See hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\n  start_ms: 33260\n  end_ms: 35960\n- text: And we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\n  start_ms: 35960\n  end_ms: 38620\n- text: For those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\n  start_ms: 38620\n  end_ms: 42240\n- text: And your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\n  start_ms: 42240\n  end_ms: 45020\n- text: By that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n  start_ms: 45020\n  end_ms: 48270\n- text: Okay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\n  start_ms: 48270\n  end_ms: 51410\n- text: The crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\n  start_ms: 51410\n  end_ms: 55150\n- text: My young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\n  start_ms: 55150\n  end_ms: 57880\n- text: I try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\n  start_ms: 57880\n  end_ms: 61430\n- text: Cause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\n  start_ms: 61430\n  end_ms: 63290\n- text: They gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves then kick the bucket for you\n  start_ms: 63290\n  end_ms: 65950\n- text: Still throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\n  start_ms: 65950\n  end_ms: 69660\n- text: My homie just got out and locked up again\n  start_ms: 69660\n  end_ms: 72310\n- text: Cause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\n  start_ms: 72310\n  end_ms: 74080\n- text: Speakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\n  start_ms: 74080\n  end_ms: 76270\n- text: More chiefs than Indians\n  start_ms: 76270\n  end_ms: 78190\n- text: That's why I just be playin' my part (my part), keep doin' my thing thing\n  start_ms: 78190\n  end_ms: 81710\n- text: My phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\n  start_ms: 81710\n  end_ms: 84900\n- text: My hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\n  start_ms: 84900\n  end_ms: 87920\n- text: Call me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\n  start_ms: 87920\n  end_ms: 91190\n- text: Gotta stay high to deal with all these characters\n  start_ms: 91190\n  end_ms: 93860\n- text: Cash rules everything all over America\n  start_ms: 93860\n  end_ms: 96520\n- text: Na nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\n  start_ms: 96520\n  end_ms: 123830\n- text: Bullets ejecting enter give him a hot winter\n  start_ms: 123830\n  end_ms: 127550\n- text: From a nobody nigga to top-tener\n  start_ms: 127550\n  end_ms: 130210\n- text: To bitches givin' head just hopin' that I remember\n  start_ms: 130210\n  end_ms: 133810\n- text: Obama lied, ain't see shit changed\n  start_ms: 133810\n  end_ms: 136540\n- text: The cocaine came, with no shame, we does our thing\n  start_ms: 136540\n  end_ms: 139200\n- text: My gang go bang, his blog be the same, her block be the same\n  start_ms: 139200\n  end_ms: 142950\n- text: I just might get rid of that range and cop me a plane\n  start_ms: 142950\n  end_ms: 145620\n- text: I'm ghetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga rich\n  start_ms: 145620\n  end_ms: 148370\n- text: Jesus Christ can't believe this shit\n  start_ms: 148370\n  end_ms: 151120\n- text: The pistol on me make me feel grave\n  start_ms: 151120\n  end_ms: 153430\n- text: Ya man murked could make you feel hate\n  start_ms: 153430\n  end_ms: 155720\n- text: A murder squad get the?\n  start_ms: 155720\n  end_ms: 157530\n- text: God couldn't help me with the bills I pay\n  start_ms: 157530\n  end_ms: 161110\n- text: So I'm stealin' the collection plate\n  start_ms: 161110\n  end_ms: 163040\n- text: Prayed to him, guess he answered late\n  start_ms: 163040\n  end_ms: 164580\n- text: On my knees just tired of tryin' to get his attention\n  start_ms: 164580\n  end_ms: 168200\n- text: So fuck it, I'm back to bitchin'\n  start_ms: 168200\n  end_ms: 169580\n- text: Everybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\n  start_ms: 169580\n  end_ms: 195980\n- text: War goin' on right here, the president well aware\n  start_ms: 195980\n  end_ms: 200050\n- text: Come through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\n  start_ms: 200050\n  end_ms: 202840\n- text: We in our own world from California to Delaware\n  start_ms: 202840\n  end_ms: 206490\n- text: The black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\n  start_ms: 206490\n  end_ms: 209240\n- text: How the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\n  start_ms: 209240\n  end_ms: 212410\n- text: To be doctor was my earlier plan\n  start_ms: 212410\n  end_ms: 215190\n- text: Til experience let me know I had the world in my hand\n  start_ms: 215190\n  end_ms: 218850\n- text: Now I got so many girls in my pants\n  start_ms: 218850\n  end_ms: 221020\n- text: Don't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\n  start_ms: 221020\n  end_ms: 224620\n- text: I see my fans, they all happen to ask\n  start_ms: 224620\n  end_ms: 227440\n- text: Young Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\n  start_ms: 227440\n  end_ms: 230180\n- text: I'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\n  start_ms: 230180\n  end_ms: 231940\n- text: You see how I be doin' it\n  start_ms: 231940\n  end_ms: 234280\n- text: I feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\n  start_ms: 234280\n  end_ms: 236940\n- text: To tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\n  start_ms: 236940\n  end_ms: 239240\n- text: Bet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'\n  start_ms: 239240\n  end_ms: 241290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 241290\nplain: |-\n  Being here in America doesn't make you an American\n  Being born here in America doesn't make you an American\n  I see America through the eyes of the victim\n  I don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\n  Power to the people\n\n  We got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\n  Put this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\n  We got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\n  See hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\n  And we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\n  For those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\n  And your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\n  By that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n\n  Okay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\n  The crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\n  My young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\n  I try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\n  Cause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\n  They gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves then kick the bucket for you\n  Still throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\n  My homie just got out and locked up again\n  Cause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\n  Speakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\n  More chiefs than Indians\n  That's why I just be playin' my part (my part), keep doin' my thing thing\n  My phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\n  My hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\n  Call me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\n  Gotta stay high to deal with all these characters\n  Cash rules everything all over America\n\n  Na nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\n  Bullets ejecting enter give him a hot winter\n  From a nobody nigga to top-tener\n  To bitches givin' head just hopin' that I remember\n  Obama lied, ain't see shit changed\n  The cocaine came, with no shame, we does our thing\n  My gang go bang, his blog be the same, her block be the same\n  I just might get rid of that range and cop me a plane\n  I'm ghetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga rich\n  Jesus Christ can't believe this shit\n  The pistol on me make me feel grave\n  Ya man murked could make you feel hate\n  A murder squad get the?\n  God couldn't help me with the bills I pay\n  So I'm stealin' the collection plate\n  Prayed to him, guess he answered late\n  On my knees just tired of tryin' to get his attention\n  So fuck it, I'm back to bitchin'\n\n  Everybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\n  War goin' on right here, the president well aware\n  Come through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\n  We in our own world from California to Delaware\n  The black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\n  How the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\n  To be doctor was my earlier plan\n  Til experience let me know I had the world in my hand\n  Now I got so many girls in my pants\n  Don't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\n  I see my fans, they all happen to ask\n  Young Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\n  I'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\n  You see how I be doin' it\n  I feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\n  To tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\n  Bet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'\n"},{"id":9573127,"name":"America (feat. Boaz)","trackName":"America (feat. Boaz)","artistName":"Black Hippy/Kendrick Lamar/Ab-Soul/Jay Rock/ScHoolboy Q/Boaz","albumName":"Black Hippy 2","duration":249.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Being here in America doesn't make you an American\nBeing born here in America doesn't make you an American\nI see America through the eyes of the victim\nI don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\nPower to the people\n\nWe got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\nPut this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\nWe got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\nSee hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\nAnd we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\nFor those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\nAnd your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\nBy that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n\nOkay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\nThe crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\nMy young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\nI try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\nCause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\nThey gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves\nthen kick the bucket for you\nStill throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\nMy homie just got out and locked up again\nCause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\nSpeakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\nMore chiefs than Indians\nThat's why I just be playin' my part (my part)\nkeep doin' my thing thing\nMy phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\nMy hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\nCall me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\nGotta stay high to deal with all these characters\nCash rules everything all over America\n\nNa nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\nBullets ejecting enter give Him a Hot winter\nFrom a nobody nigga to top-tener\nTo bitcHes givin' Head just Hopin' tHat I remember\nObama lied, ain't see sHit cHanged\nTHe cocaine came, witH no sHame, we does our thing\nMy gang go bang, His blog be tHe same, her block be tHe same\nI just migHt get rid of tHat range and cop me a plane\nI'm gHetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga ricH\nJesus CHrist can't believe tHis sHit\nTHe pistol on me make me feel grave\nYa man murked could make you feel Hate\nA murder squad get the?\nGod couldn't Help me with the bills I pay\nSo I'm stealin' the collection plate\nPrayed to Him, guess He answered late\nOn my knees just tired of tryin' to get His attention\nSo fuck it, I'm back to bitcHin'\n\nEverybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\nWar goin' on right here, the president well aware\nCome through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\nWe in our own world from California to Delaware\nThe black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\nHow the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\nTo be doctor was my earlier plan\nTil experience let me know I had the world in my hand\nNow I got so many girls in my pants\nDon't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\nI see my fans, they all happen to ask\nYoung Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\nI'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\nYou see how I be doin' it\nI feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\nTo tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\nBet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: America (feat. Boaz)\n  artist: Black Hippy/Kendrick Lamar/Ab-Soul/Jay Rock/ScHoolboy Q/Boaz\n  album: Black Hippy 2\n  duration_ms: 249000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Being here in America doesn't make you an American\n  Being born here in America doesn't make you an American\n  I see America through the eyes of the victim\n  I don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\n  Power to the people\n\n  We got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\n  Put this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\n  We got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\n  See hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\n  And we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\n  For those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\n  And your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\n  By that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n\n  Okay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\n  The crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\n  My young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\n  I try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\n  Cause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\n  They gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves\n  then kick the bucket for you\n  Still throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\n  My homie just got out and locked up again\n  Cause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\n  Speakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\n  More chiefs than Indians\n  That's why I just be playin' my part (my part)\n  keep doin' my thing thing\n  My phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\n  My hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\n  Call me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\n  Gotta stay high to deal with all these characters\n  Cash rules everything all over America\n\n  Na nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\n  Bullets ejecting enter give Him a Hot winter\n  From a nobody nigga to top-tener\n  To bitcHes givin' Head just Hopin' tHat I remember\n  Obama lied, ain't see sHit cHanged\n  THe cocaine came, witH no sHame, we does our thing\n  My gang go bang, His blog be tHe same, her block be tHe same\n  I just migHt get rid of tHat range and cop me a plane\n  I'm gHetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga ricH\n  Jesus CHrist can't believe tHis sHit\n  THe pistol on me make me feel grave\n  Ya man murked could make you feel Hate\n  A murder squad get the?\n  God couldn't Help me with the bills I pay\n  So I'm stealin' the collection plate\n  Prayed to Him, guess He answered late\n  On my knees just tired of tryin' to get His attention\n  So fuck it, I'm back to bitcHin'\n\n  Everybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\n  War goin' on right here, the president well aware\n  Come through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\n  We in our own world from California to Delaware\n  The black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\n  How the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\n  To be doctor was my earlier plan\n  Til experience let me know I had the world in my hand\n  Now I got so many girls in my pants\n  Don't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\n  I see my fans, they all happen to ask\n  Young Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\n  I'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\n  You see how I be doin' it\n  I feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\n  To tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\n  Bet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'\n"},{"id":16606602,"name":"America (feat. Boaz)","trackName":"America (feat. Boaz)","artistName":"Black Hippy & Kendrick Lamar & Ab-Soul & Jay Rock & Schoolboy Q","albumName":"Black Hippy 2","duration":249.756735,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Being here in America doesn't make you an American\nBeing born here in America doesn't make you an American\nI see America through the eyes of the victim\nI don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\nPower to the people\n\nWe got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\nPut this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\nWe got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\nSee hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\nAnd we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\nFor those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\nAnd your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\nBy that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n\nOkay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\nThe crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\nMy young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\nI try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\nCause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\nThey gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves\nthen kick the bucket for you\nStill throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\nMy homie just got out and locked up again\nCause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\nSpeakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\nMore chiefs than Indians\nThat's why I just be playin' my part (my part)\nkeep doin' my thing thing\nMy phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\nMy hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\nCall me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\nGotta stay high to deal with all these characters\nCash rules everything all over America\n\nNa nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\nBullets ejecting enter give Him a Hot winter\nFrom a nobody nigga to top-tener\nTo bitcHes givin' Head just Hopin' tHat I remember\nObama lied, ain't see sHit cHanged\nTHe cocaine came, witH no sHame, we does our thing\nMy gang go bang, His blog be tHe same, her block be tHe same\nI just migHt get rid of tHat range and cop me a plane\nI'm gHetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga ricH\nJesus CHrist can't believe tHis sHit\nTHe pistol on me make me feel grave\nYa man murked could make you feel Hate\nA murder squad get the?\nGod couldn't Help me with the bills I pay\nSo I'm stealin' the collection plate\nPrayed to Him, guess He answered late\nOn my knees just tired of tryin' to get His attention\nSo fuck it, I'm back to bitcHin'\n\nEverybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\nWar goin' on right here, the president well aware\nCome through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\nWe in our own world from California to Delaware\nThe black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\nHow the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\nTo be doctor was my earlier plan\nTil experience let me know I had the world in my hand\nNow I got so many girls in my pants\nDon't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\nI see my fans, they all happen to ask\nYoung Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\nI'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\nYou see how I be doin' it\nI feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\nTo tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\nBet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: America (feat. Boaz)\n  artist: Black Hippy & Kendrick Lamar & Ab-Soul & Jay Rock & Schoolboy Q\n  album: Black Hippy 2\n  duration_ms: 249757\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Being here in America doesn't make you an American\n  Being born here in America doesn't make you an American\n  I see America through the eyes of the victim\n  I don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\n  Power to the people\n\n  We got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\n  Put this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\n  We got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\n  See hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\n  And we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\n  For those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\n  And your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\n  By that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n\n  Okay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\n  The crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\n  My young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\n  I try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\n  Cause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\n  They gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves\n  then kick the bucket for you\n  Still throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\n  My homie just got out and locked up again\n  Cause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\n  Speakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\n  More chiefs than Indians\n  That's why I just be playin' my part (my part)\n  keep doin' my thing thing\n  My phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\n  My hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\n  Call me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\n  Gotta stay high to deal with all these characters\n  Cash rules everything all over America\n\n  Na nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\n  Bullets ejecting enter give Him a Hot winter\n  From a nobody nigga to top-tener\n  To bitcHes givin' Head just Hopin' tHat I remember\n  Obama lied, ain't see sHit cHanged\n  THe cocaine came, witH no sHame, we does our thing\n  My gang go bang, His blog be tHe same, her block be tHe same\n  I just migHt get rid of tHat range and cop me a plane\n  I'm gHetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga ricH\n  Jesus CHrist can't believe tHis sHit\n  THe pistol on me make me feel grave\n  Ya man murked could make you feel Hate\n  A murder squad get the?\n  God couldn't Help me with the bills I pay\n  So I'm stealin' the collection plate\n  Prayed to Him, guess He answered late\n  On my knees just tired of tryin' to get His attention\n  So fuck it, I'm back to bitcHin'\n\n  Everybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\n  War goin' on right here, the president well aware\n  Come through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\n  We in our own world from California to Delaware\n  The black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\n  How the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\n  To be doctor was my earlier plan\n  Til experience let me know I had the world in my hand\n  Now I got so many girls in my pants\n  Don't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\n  I see my fans, they all happen to ask\n  Young Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\n  I'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\n  You see how I be doin' it\n  I feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\n  To tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\n  Bet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'\n"},{"id":13611145,"name":"America","trackName":"America","artistName":"Black Hippy feat. ScHoolboy Q & Boaz","albumName":"Black Hippy","duration":250.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Being here in America doesn't make you an American\nBeing born here in America doesn't make you an American\nI see America through the eyes of the victim\nI don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\nPower to the people\n\nWe got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\nPut this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\nWe got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\nSee hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\nAnd we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\nFor those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\nAnd your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\nBy that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n\nOkay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\nThe crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\nMy young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\nI try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\nCause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\nThey gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves then kick the bucket for you\nStill throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\nMy homie just got out and locked up again\nCause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\nSpeakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\nMore chiefs than Indians\nThat's why I just be playin' my part (my part), keep doin' my thing thing\nMy phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\nMy hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\nCall me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\nGotta stay high to deal with all these characters\nCash rules everything all over America\n\nNa nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\nBullets ejecting enter give him a hot winter\nFrom a nobody nigga to top-tener\nTo bitches givin' head just hopin' that I remember\nObama lied, ain't see shit changed\nThe cocaine came, with no shame, we does our thing\nMy gang go bang, his blog be the same, her block be the same\nI just might get rid of that range and cop me a plane\nI'm ghetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga rich\nJesus Christ can't believe this shit\nThe pistol on me make me feel grave\nYa man murked could make you feel hate\nA murder squad get the?\nGod couldn't help me with the bills I pay\nSo I'm stealin' the collection plate\nPrayed to him, guess he answered late\nOn my knees just tired of tryin' to get his attention\nSo fuck it, I'm back to bitchin'\n\nEverybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\nWar goin' on right here, the president well aware\nCome through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\nWe in our own world from California to Delaware\nThe black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\nHow the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\nTo be doctor was my earlier plan\nTil experience let me know I had the world in my hand\nNow I got so many girls in my pants\nDon't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\nI see my fans, they all happen to ask\nYoung Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\nI'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\nYou see how I be doin' it\nI feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\nTo tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\nBet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.34] Being here in America doesn't make you an American\n[00:06.09] Being born here in America doesn't make you an American\n[00:10.57] I see America through the eyes of the victim\n[00:15.98] I don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\n[00:20.98] Power to the people\n[00:23.60] We got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\n[00:26.83] Put this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\n[00:30.07] We got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\n[00:33.26] See hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\n[00:35.96] And we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\n[00:38.62] For those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\n[00:42.24] And your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\n[00:45.02] By that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n[00:48.27] Okay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\n[00:51.41] The crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\n[00:55.15] My young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\n[00:57.88] I try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\n[01:01.43] Cause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\n[01:03.29] They gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves then kick the bucket for you\n[01:05.95] Still throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\n[01:09.66] My homie just got out and locked up again\n[01:12.31] Cause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\n[01:14.08] Speakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\n[01:16.27] More chiefs than Indians\n[01:18.19] That's why I just be playin' my part (my part), keep doin' my thing thing\n[01:21.71] My phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\n[01:24.90] My hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\n[01:27.92] Call me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\n[01:31.19] Gotta stay high to deal with all these characters\n[01:33.86] Cash rules everything all over America\n[01:36.52] Na nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\n[02:03.83] Bullets ejecting enter give him a hot winter\n[02:07.55] From a nobody nigga to top-tener\n[02:10.21] To bitches givin' head just hopin' that I remember\n[02:13.81] Obama lied, ain't see shit changed\n[02:16.54] The cocaine came, with no shame, we does our thing\n[02:19.20] My gang go bang, his blog be the same, her block be the same\n[02:22.95] I just might get rid of that range and cop me a plane\n[02:25.62] I'm ghetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga rich\n[02:28.37] Jesus Christ can't believe this shit\n[02:31.12] The pistol on me make me feel grave\n[02:33.43] Ya man murked could make you feel hate\n[02:35.72] A murder squad get the?\n[02:37.53] God couldn't help me with the bills I pay\n[02:41.11] So I'm stealin' the collection plate\n[02:43.04] Prayed to him, guess he answered late\n[02:44.58] On my knees just tired of tryin' to get his attention\n[02:48.20] So fuck it, I'm back to bitchin'\n[02:49.58] Everybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\n[03:15.98] War goin' on right here, the president well aware\n[03:20.05] Come through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\n[03:22.84] We in our own world from California to Delaware\n[03:26.49] The black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\n[03:29.24] How the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\n[03:32.41] To be doctor was my earlier plan\n[03:35.19] Til experience let me know I had the world in my hand\n[03:38.85] Now I got so many girls in my pants\n[03:41.02] Don't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\n[03:44.62] I see my fans, they all happen to ask\n[03:47.44] Young Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\n[03:50.18] I'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\n[03:51.94] You see how I be doin' it\n[03:54.28] I feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\n[03:56.94] To tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\n[03:59.24] Bet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'\n[04:01.29] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: America\n  artist: Black Hippy feat. ScHoolboy Q & Boaz\n  album: Black Hippy\n  duration_ms: 250000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Being here in America doesn't make you an American\n  start_ms: 2340\n  end_ms: 6090\n- text: Being born here in America doesn't make you an American\n  start_ms: 6090\n  end_ms: 10570\n- text: I see America through the eyes of the victim\n  start_ms: 10570\n  end_ms: 15980\n- text: I don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\n  start_ms: 15980\n  end_ms: 20980\n- text: Power to the people\n  start_ms: 20980\n  end_ms: 23600\n- text: We got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\n  start_ms: 23600\n  end_ms: 26830\n- text: Put this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\n  start_ms: 26830\n  end_ms: 30070\n- text: We got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\n  start_ms: 30070\n  end_ms: 33260\n- text: See hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\n  start_ms: 33260\n  end_ms: 35960\n- text: And we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\n  start_ms: 35960\n  end_ms: 38620\n- text: For those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\n  start_ms: 38620\n  end_ms: 42240\n- text: And your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\n  start_ms: 42240\n  end_ms: 45020\n- text: By that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n  start_ms: 45020\n  end_ms: 48270\n- text: Okay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\n  start_ms: 48270\n  end_ms: 51410\n- text: The crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\n  start_ms: 51410\n  end_ms: 55150\n- text: My young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\n  start_ms: 55150\n  end_ms: 57880\n- text: I try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\n  start_ms: 57880\n  end_ms: 61430\n- text: Cause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\n  start_ms: 61430\n  end_ms: 63290\n- text: They gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves then kick the bucket for you\n  start_ms: 63290\n  end_ms: 65950\n- text: Still throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\n  start_ms: 65950\n  end_ms: 69660\n- text: My homie just got out and locked up again\n  start_ms: 69660\n  end_ms: 72310\n- text: Cause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\n  start_ms: 72310\n  end_ms: 74080\n- text: Speakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\n  start_ms: 74080\n  end_ms: 76270\n- text: More chiefs than Indians\n  start_ms: 76270\n  end_ms: 78190\n- text: That's why I just be playin' my part (my part), keep doin' my thing thing\n  start_ms: 78190\n  end_ms: 81710\n- text: My phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\n  start_ms: 81710\n  end_ms: 84900\n- text: My hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\n  start_ms: 84900\n  end_ms: 87920\n- text: Call me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\n  start_ms: 87920\n  end_ms: 91190\n- text: Gotta stay high to deal with all these characters\n  start_ms: 91190\n  end_ms: 93860\n- text: Cash rules everything all over America\n  start_ms: 93860\n  end_ms: 96520\n- text: Na nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\n  start_ms: 96520\n  end_ms: 123830\n- text: Bullets ejecting enter give him a hot winter\n  start_ms: 123830\n  end_ms: 127550\n- text: From a nobody nigga to top-tener\n  start_ms: 127550\n  end_ms: 130210\n- text: To bitches givin' head just hopin' that I remember\n  start_ms: 130210\n  end_ms: 133810\n- text: Obama lied, ain't see shit changed\n  start_ms: 133810\n  end_ms: 136540\n- text: The cocaine came, with no shame, we does our thing\n  start_ms: 136540\n  end_ms: 139200\n- text: My gang go bang, his blog be the same, her block be the same\n  start_ms: 139200\n  end_ms: 142950\n- text: I just might get rid of that range and cop me a plane\n  start_ms: 142950\n  end_ms: 145620\n- text: I'm ghetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga rich\n  start_ms: 145620\n  end_ms: 148370\n- text: Jesus Christ can't believe this shit\n  start_ms: 148370\n  end_ms: 151120\n- text: The pistol on me make me feel grave\n  start_ms: 151120\n  end_ms: 153430\n- text: Ya man murked could make you feel hate\n  start_ms: 153430\n  end_ms: 155720\n- text: A murder squad get the?\n  start_ms: 155720\n  end_ms: 157530\n- text: God couldn't help me with the bills I pay\n  start_ms: 157530\n  end_ms: 161110\n- text: So I'm stealin' the collection plate\n  start_ms: 161110\n  end_ms: 163040\n- text: Prayed to him, guess he answered late\n  start_ms: 163040\n  end_ms: 164580\n- text: On my knees just tired of tryin' to get his attention\n  start_ms: 164580\n  end_ms: 168200\n- text: So fuck it, I'm back to bitchin'\n  start_ms: 168200\n  end_ms: 169580\n- text: Everybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\n  start_ms: 169580\n  end_ms: 195980\n- text: War goin' on right here, the president well aware\n  start_ms: 195980\n  end_ms: 200050\n- text: Come through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\n  start_ms: 200050\n  end_ms: 202840\n- text: We in our own world from California to Delaware\n  start_ms: 202840\n  end_ms: 206490\n- text: The black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\n  start_ms: 206490\n  end_ms: 209240\n- text: How the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\n  start_ms: 209240\n  end_ms: 212410\n- text: To be doctor was my earlier plan\n  start_ms: 212410\n  end_ms: 215190\n- text: Til experience let me know I had the world in my hand\n  start_ms: 215190\n  end_ms: 218850\n- text: Now I got so many girls in my pants\n  start_ms: 218850\n  end_ms: 221020\n- text: Don't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\n  start_ms: 221020\n  end_ms: 224620\n- text: I see my fans, they all happen to ask\n  start_ms: 224620\n  end_ms: 227440\n- text: Young Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\n  start_ms: 227440\n  end_ms: 230180\n- text: I'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\n  start_ms: 230180\n  end_ms: 231940\n- text: You see how I be doin' it\n  start_ms: 231940\n  end_ms: 234280\n- text: I feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\n  start_ms: 234280\n  end_ms: 236940\n- text: To tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\n  start_ms: 236940\n  end_ms: 239240\n- text: Bet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'\n  start_ms: 239240\n  end_ms: 241290\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 241290\nplain: |-\n  Being here in America doesn't make you an American\n  Being born here in America doesn't make you an American\n  I see America through the eyes of the victim\n  I don't see any American dream, I see an American nightmare\n  Power to the people\n\n  We got more crack in the ghetto than they could grow in Columbia\n  Put this shit right in front of ya, this is America!\n  We got more guns in the hood than soldiers out on the line\n  See hustlers out on they grind, how you get rich in America\n  And we all just tryin' to make it, all around the world\n  For those who never mistake it, ain't no place like America\n  And your pride get hard to swallow when everything controlled\n  By that all mighty dollar, we don't fear God in America\n\n  Okay the sun rise from the east, the west marked by the beast\n  The crime rate in my city still risin' like yeast\n  My young homie said, \"Fuck school\" and hit the block\n  I try to tell him, \"Be thankful for the shit you got\"\n  Cause ain't nobody gon' do nothin' for you\n  They gave the ghetto dope to hang ourselves then kick the bucket for you\n  Still throwin' rocks at the pen, full of dope spot\n  My homie just got out and locked up again\n  Cause ain't no discipline (Not at all)\n  Speakin' frankly, it's all about the Benjamins\n  More chiefs than Indians\n  That's why I just be playin' my part (my part), keep doin' my thing thing\n  My phone like a telethon, it always go ring ring\n  My hands cash registered, they always go ching ching\n  Call me Joe Blow, cause I'm smokin' that mean green\n  Gotta stay high to deal with all these characters\n  Cash rules everything all over America\n\n  Na nigga, we tryin' to ball nigga\n  Bullets ejecting enter give him a hot winter\n  From a nobody nigga to top-tener\n  To bitches givin' head just hopin' that I remember\n  Obama lied, ain't see shit changed\n  The cocaine came, with no shame, we does our thing\n  My gang go bang, his blog be the same, her block be the same\n  I just might get rid of that range and cop me a plane\n  I'm ghetto fabulous, not corporate but nigga rich\n  Jesus Christ can't believe this shit\n  The pistol on me make me feel grave\n  Ya man murked could make you feel hate\n  A murder squad get the?\n  God couldn't help me with the bills I pay\n  So I'm stealin' the collection plate\n  Prayed to him, guess he answered late\n  On my knees just tired of tryin' to get his attention\n  So fuck it, I'm back to bitchin'\n\n  Everybody on welfare, nobody got healthcare\n  War goin' on right here, the president well aware\n  Come through your city, but won't visit the ghetto there\n  We in our own world from California to Delaware\n  The black market, yeah the hood be arrangin'\n  How the prices be inflatin' all the goods we exchangin'\n  To be doctor was my earlier plan\n  Til experience let me know I had the world in my hand\n  Now I got so many girls in my pants\n  Don't know if they reachin' for me, or the Jacksons and grams\n  I see my fans, they all happen to ask\n  Young Bo, when you gon' put the game back in the trance?\n  I'm like, \"I'm on it, I'm on it\"\n  You see how I be doin' it\n  I feel it then I record it, sound the same when I'm performing\n  To tell the truth, the crack game was never boring\n  Bet they'll be the best memories we talk about tourin'\n"}]