[{"id":30248075,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"Best of Canibus","duration":289.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: Best of Canibus\n  duration_ms: 289000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":20854717,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"Best of Canibus","duration":296.515918,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: Best of Canibus\n  duration_ms: 296516\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":33633555,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus - Topic","albumName":"Canibus - Topic Videos","duration":299.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.53] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:03.24] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:05.00] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:07.88] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:09.94] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.19] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.73] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.28] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.02] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:22.86] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:24.75] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:26.66] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.62] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.25] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.14] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:36.82] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.50] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.50] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:47.71] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.82] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:52.23] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.89] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.58] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.67] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.85] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.60] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.23] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.44] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.26] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:15.69] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:17.28] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.70] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.89] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.26] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.04] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.49] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:32.39] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.53] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:38.20] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.66] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.59] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:47.27] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.79] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.94] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.40] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:56.71] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.29] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.21] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.02] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.30] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:09.73] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:11.65] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.20] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.52] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:21.62] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:23.16] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.32] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:26.56] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.00] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:31.49] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:34.25] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:39.19] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.15] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.54] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.54] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.44] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:52.54] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.18] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:57.44] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:59.61] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:02.87] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.42] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.62] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:09.34] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:11.56] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:14.07] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:16.29] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.98] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:21.82] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:23.62] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:25.68] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.58] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:31.50] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:33.50] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:36.16] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.93] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:43.56] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.02] I flame broil suckers\n[03:49.35] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.85] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.68] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:57.27] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:58.96] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.27] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.36] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.01] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.55] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:16.24] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.38] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.75] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.49] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:25.72] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.38] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.54] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.18] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.85] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.33] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.67] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.17] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.65] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.56] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.36] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:52.85] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.07] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus - Topic\n  album: Canibus - Topic Videos\n  duration_ms: 299000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 1530\n  end_ms: 3240\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 3240\n  end_ms: 5000\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 5000\n  end_ms: 7880\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 7880\n  end_ms: 9940\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 9940\n  end_ms: 12190\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12190\n  end_ms: 14730\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14730\n  end_ms: 17280\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17280\n  end_ms: 20020\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20020\n  end_ms: 22860\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 22860\n  end_ms: 24750\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 24750\n  end_ms: 26660\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 26660\n  end_ms: 29620\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29620\n  end_ms: 31250\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31250\n  end_ms: 34140\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34140\n  end_ms: 36820\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 36820\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41500\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41500\n  end_ms: 44500\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44500\n  end_ms: 47710\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 47710\n  end_ms: 49820\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49820\n  end_ms: 52230\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 52230\n  end_ms: 54890\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54890\n  end_ms: 56580\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56580\n  end_ms: 59670\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59670\n  end_ms: 62850\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62850\n  end_ms: 64600\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64600\n  end_ms: 66230\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66230\n  end_ms: 69440\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69440\n  end_ms: 72260\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72260\n  end_ms: 75690\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 75690\n  end_ms: 77280\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 77280\n  end_ms: 79700\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79700\n  end_ms: 81890\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81890\n  end_ms: 84260\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84260\n  end_ms: 86040\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86040\n  end_ms: 89490\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89490\n  end_ms: 92390\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 92390\n  end_ms: 94530\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94530\n  end_ms: 98200\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 98200\n  end_ms: 100660\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100660\n  end_ms: 104590\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104590\n  end_ms: 107270\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 107270\n  end_ms: 109790\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109790\n  end_ms: 111940\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111940\n  end_ms: 114400\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114400\n  end_ms: 116710\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 116710\n  end_ms: 119290\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119290\n  end_ms: 122210\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122210\n  end_ms: 124020\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124020\n  end_ms: 127300\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127300\n  end_ms: 129730\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 129730\n  end_ms: 131650\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 131650\n  end_ms: 134200\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134200\n  end_ms: 136520\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136520\n  end_ms: 141620\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 141620\n  end_ms: 143160\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 143160\n  end_ms: 144320\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144320\n  end_ms: 146560\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 146560\n  end_ms: 149000\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149000\n  end_ms: 151490\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 151490\n  end_ms: 154250\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 154250\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159190\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 159190\n  end_ms: 161150\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161150\n  end_ms: 163540\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163540\n  end_ms: 165540\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165540\n  end_ms: 168440\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168440\n  end_ms: 172540\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 172540\n  end_ms: 174180\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174180\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179610\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 179610\n  end_ms: 182870\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 182870\n  end_ms: 184420\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184420\n  end_ms: 186620\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186620\n  end_ms: 189340\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 189340\n  end_ms: 191560\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 191560\n  end_ms: 194070\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 194070\n  end_ms: 196290\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 196290\n  end_ms: 198980\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198980\n  end_ms: 201820\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 201820\n  end_ms: 203620\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 203620\n  end_ms: 205680\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 205680\n  end_ms: 208580\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208580\n  end_ms: 211500\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 211500\n  end_ms: 213500\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 213500\n  end_ms: 216160\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 216160\n  end_ms: 219930\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219930\n  end_ms: 223560\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 223560\n  end_ms: 227020\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227020\n  end_ms: 229350\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 229350\n  end_ms: 230850\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230850\n  end_ms: 233680\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233680\n  end_ms: 237270\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 237270\n  end_ms: 238960\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 238960\n  end_ms: 241270\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241270\n  end_ms: 244360\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244360\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251010\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251010\n  end_ms: 253550\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253550\n  end_ms: 256240\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 256240\n  end_ms: 258380\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258380\n  end_ms: 260750\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260750\n  end_ms: 263490\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263490\n  end_ms: 265720\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 265720\n  end_ms: 267380\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267380\n  end_ms: 270540\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270540\n  end_ms: 273180\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273180\n  end_ms: 275850\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275850\n  end_ms: 278330\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278330\n  end_ms: 280670\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280670\n  end_ms: 283170\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283170\n  end_ms: 285650\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285650\n  end_ms: 287560\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287560\n  end_ms: 290360\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290360\n  end_ms: 292850\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 292850\n  end_ms: 295070\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295070\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":14567442,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"Lost Lyrics (The Best Of Canibus Mixed By Dj Rukiz)","duration":296.515918,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: Lost Lyrics (The Best Of Canibus Mixed By Dj Rukiz)\n  duration_ms: 296516\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":8308454,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C.","duration":298.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there!\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit\nSo don't try this at home, yo\nYo! Yo! Yo!\n\nMy style of rhymin' is ancient like Aztecs and Mayans\nBecause I recognize it's all about timin'\nMe and my freestyle alliance practicin' African voodoo science\nIn front of 20 foot bonfires, lookin' skyward\nCalculatin' May 5, 2000, the nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet in the cockpit\nOf a starship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets and a big-ass \"Canibus Coming Soon\" poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that wanna battle me\nThey even tried kidnappin' me, and they would've snatched me\nIf their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM 12\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail or get tossed towards Hell — whatever y'all feel!\nBruisin' niggas, confusin' niggas like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles, hear the wild wolf growl\nStyles stockpiled for miles from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced\nAnd you'll get punched in the mouth with the southpaw southern fist\nI'll bust your shit! Swell your lip bigger than Bubba Shrimp\nFor actin' tough and shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark ravin' mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode\nAnd you get stabbed with all the flyin' glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircraft\nTrained in chemical weapons class\nJust to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass with a can of pepper gas\nThen watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n\"You wanna battle?\" is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a solderin' iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize — my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five-speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind, I dedicate this to the wise\nDedicate it to dimes, dividin' myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offerings I offer\nFlows that glow with auroras that sparkle like water\nFly like a saucer with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million MC's, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen gettin' it on since I been born, and I'mma live long\nAnd I'mma be gettin' it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I been on, all the songs that I spit on\nI took an oath to rip everythin' I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from grippin' microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga, try to flip and get flipped on!\nMy army march a million strong\nLike the Nation of Islam with suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops dressed\nIn frog suits and night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob shittin' on niggas\nDrawn to a hideous form with horns and a mink on\nDuckin' down low like we in 'Nam fightin' the Viet Cong\nScreamin' \"Incoming!\" when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus 800,000 to even consider a war\nAnd 200,000 more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nThat smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfuckin' asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds — you know who you are\nAlways talkin' about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewelry and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou motherfuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond 'em, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle\nSo I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs\nYou feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers, then hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit!\nCall my reinforcements, the Four Horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a motherfucker to cross it!\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important\nTell him to call Sting three-way and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders, so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news — I'll kill your reporters!\nStart a lawsuit — I'll kill your lawyers!\nFuck the soft shit! And fuck what y'all think!\nMy album's gold 'cause my album was the bomb shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man, and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit, homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you better than Canibus? Where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stink\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattlin' me, you never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in?\nNigga, guess again!\n'Cause after I'm finished wreckin' this shit\nI'mma drink a whole bottle of Henny and go fuck a lesbian\n-- Synced by NoMan --\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.51] Yeah! That's the beat right there!\n[00:02.79] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit\n[00:06.03] So don't try this at home, yo\n[00:07.67] Yo! Yo! Yo!\n\n[00:09.30] My style of rhymin' is ancient like Aztecs and Mayans\n[00:12.28] Because I recognize it's all about timin'\n[00:14.47] Me and my freestyle alliance practicin' African voodoo science\n[00:17.90] In front of 20 foot bonfires, lookin' skyward\n[00:20.67] Calculatin' May 5, 2000, the nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:24.39] The arrival of the prophet in the cockpit\n[00:27.07] Of a starship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.67] With mercury ion rockets and a big-ass \"Canibus Coming Soon\" poster on the side of it\n[00:34.63] I'm known geographically and intergalactically\n[00:37.00] That's why I got extraterrestrials that wanna battle me\n[00:39.63] They even tried kidnappin' me, and they would've snatched me\n[00:42.39] If their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.63] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:47.64] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.50] Undercover operatives working for COM 12\n[00:52.03] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.51] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:55.99] So all hail or get tossed towards Hell — whatever y'all feel!\n[00:59.51] Bruisin' niggas, confusin' niggas like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.83] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles, hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.14] Styles stockpiled for miles from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.39] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:11.99] Interrupt the cipher unannounced\n[01:14.02] And you'll get punched in the mouth with the southpaw southern fist\n[01:16.82] I'll bust your shit! Swell your lip bigger than Bubba Shrimp\n[01:19.51] For actin' tough and shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.23] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:25.87] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark ravin' mad\n[01:29.31] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:32.51] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.44] Flammable liquids in the lab explode\n[01:36.56] And you get stabbed with all the flyin' glass\n[01:38.27] Trained to blow up commercial aircraft\n[01:40.44] Trained in chemical weapons class\n[01:42.36] Just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.35] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass with a can of pepper gas\n[01:47.75] Then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.51] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.31] \"You wanna battle?\" is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.11] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:56.72] Whoever lose'll get a solderin' iron up the ass\n[01:59.16] You need to recognize — my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:01.99] Quicker than the five-speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.20] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.64] A nigga with a divine mind, I dedicate this to the wise\n[02:10.87] Dedicate it to dimes, dividin' myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.28] You can't deny the offerings I offer\n[02:16.19] Flows that glow with auroras that sparkle like water\n[02:18.95] Fly like a saucer with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:21.03] Murder a million MC's, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.00] Been gettin' it on since I been born, and I'mma live long\n[02:26.83] And I'mma be gettin' it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:28.71] Look at all the stages I been on, all the songs that I spit on\n[02:31.71] I took an oath to rip everythin' I get on\n[02:33.83] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.52] In the wrist bones from grippin' microphones this long\n[02:39.08] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.04] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.51] Nigga, try to flip and get flipped on!\n[02:45.40] My army march a million strong\n[02:46.72] Like the Nation of Islam with suede Timbs on\n[02:48.96] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops dressed\n[02:51.56] In frog suits and night vision goggles\n[02:53.81] A lyrical lynch mob shittin' on niggas\n[02:56.05] Drawn to a hideous form with horns and a mink on\n[02:59.04] Duckin' down low like we in 'Nam fightin' the Viet Cong\n[03:01.92] Screamin' \"Incoming!\" when I see a bomb\n[03:04.05] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:05.84] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.48] Plus 800,000 to even consider a war\n[03:11.13] And 200,000 more to even look hard\n[03:13.37] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.13] My cavalry charge accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.45] That smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:21.12] And drag y'all across the motherfuckin' asphalt\n[03:23.56] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds — you know who you are\n[03:26.64] Always talkin' about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.52] Your jewelry and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:31.40] You motherfuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:33.29] 'Cause I'm beyond 'em, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:36.21] I close my eyes when I freestyle\n[03:38.21] So I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.93] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:43.45] To barbecue your brain organs\n[03:45.05] You feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.41] I flame broil suckers, then hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit!\n[03:50.97] Call my reinforcements, the Four Horsemen\n[03:53.18] Take a big piece of chalk and draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.56] I dare a motherfucker to cross it!\n[03:58.33] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:00.85] Tell him it's important\n[04:02.05] Tell him to call Sting three-way and sing a chorus\n[04:04.61] Break your camcorders, so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.44] Call the news — I'll kill your reporters!\n[04:09.20] Start a lawsuit — I'll kill your lawyers!\n[04:11.09] Fuck the soft shit! And fuck what y'all think!\n[04:13.13] My album's gold 'cause my album was the bomb shit\n[04:15.60] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.21] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.65] 'Cause you a man, and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.13] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:25.73] That's some sick shit, homeboy\n[04:27.56] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.33] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.20] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.57] You think you better than Canibus? Where's the evidence?\n[04:38.05] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.65] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stink\n[04:42.97] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.16] Battlin' me, you never win\n[04:46.73] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in?\n[04:49.69] Nigga, guess again!\n[04:50.68] 'Cause after I'm finished wreckin' this shit\n[04:52.61] I'mma drink a whole bottle of Henny and go fuck a lesbian\n[04:55.88] -- Synced by NoMan --\n[04:58.24] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: 2000 B.C.\n  duration_ms: 298000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there!\n  start_ms: 510\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 6030\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo\n  start_ms: 6030\n  end_ms: 7670\n- text: Yo! Yo! Yo!\n  start_ms: 7670\n  end_ms: 9300\n- text: My style of rhymin' is ancient like Aztecs and Mayans\n  start_ms: 9300\n  end_ms: 12280\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timin'\n  start_ms: 12280\n  end_ms: 14470\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance practicin' African voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14470\n  end_ms: 17900\n- text: In front of 20 foot bonfires, lookin' skyward\n  start_ms: 17900\n  end_ms: 20670\n- text: Calculatin' May 5, 2000, the nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 20670\n  end_ms: 24390\n- text: The arrival of the prophet in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 24390\n  end_ms: 27070\n- text: Of a starship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27070\n  end_ms: 29670\n- text: With mercury ion rockets and a big-ass \"Canibus Coming Soon\" poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 29670\n  end_ms: 34630\n- text: I'm known geographically and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34630\n  end_ms: 37000\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that wanna battle me\n  start_ms: 37000\n  end_ms: 39630\n- text: They even tried kidnappin' me, and they would've snatched me\n  start_ms: 39630\n  end_ms: 42390\n- text: If their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 42390\n  end_ms: 44630\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44630\n  end_ms: 47640\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 47640\n  end_ms: 49500\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM 12\n  start_ms: 49500\n  end_ms: 52030\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 52030\n  end_ms: 54510\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54510\n  end_ms: 55990\n- text: So all hail or get tossed towards Hell — whatever y'all feel!\n  start_ms: 55990\n  end_ms: 59510\n- text: Bruisin' niggas, confusin' niggas like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59510\n  end_ms: 62830\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles, hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 62830\n  end_ms: 66140\n- text: Styles stockpiled for miles from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66140\n  end_ms: 69390\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69390\n  end_ms: 71990\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced\n  start_ms: 71990\n  end_ms: 74020\n- text: And you'll get punched in the mouth with the southpaw southern fist\n  start_ms: 74020\n  end_ms: 76820\n- text: I'll bust your shit! Swell your lip bigger than Bubba Shrimp\n  start_ms: 76820\n  end_ms: 79510\n- text: For actin' tough and shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79510\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84230\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84230\n  end_ms: 85870\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark ravin' mad\n  start_ms: 85870\n  end_ms: 89310\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89310\n  end_ms: 92510\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 92510\n  end_ms: 94440\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode\n  start_ms: 94440\n  end_ms: 96560\n- text: And you get stabbed with all the flyin' glass\n  start_ms: 96560\n  end_ms: 98270\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircraft\n  start_ms: 98270\n  end_ms: 100440\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class\n  start_ms: 100440\n  end_ms: 102360\n- text: Just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 102360\n  end_ms: 104350\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass with a can of pepper gas\n  start_ms: 104350\n  end_ms: 107750\n- text: Then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 107750\n  end_ms: 109510\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109510\n  end_ms: 111310\n- text: '\"You wanna battle?\" is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111310\n  end_ms: 114110\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114110\n  end_ms: 116720\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a solderin' iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 116720\n  end_ms: 119160\n- text: You need to recognize — my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119160\n  end_ms: 121990\n- text: Quicker than the five-speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 121990\n  end_ms: 124200\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124200\n  end_ms: 127640\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind, I dedicate this to the wise\n  start_ms: 127640\n  end_ms: 130870\n- text: Dedicate it to dimes, dividin' myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 130870\n  end_ms: 134280\n- text: You can't deny the offerings I offer\n  start_ms: 134280\n  end_ms: 136190\n- text: Flows that glow with auroras that sparkle like water\n  start_ms: 136190\n  end_ms: 138950\n- text: Fly like a saucer with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 138950\n  end_ms: 141030\n- text: Murder a million MC's, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 141030\n  end_ms: 144000\n- text: Been gettin' it on since I been born, and I'mma live long\n  start_ms: 144000\n  end_ms: 146830\n- text: And I'mma be gettin' it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 146830\n  end_ms: 148710\n- text: Look at all the stages I been on, all the songs that I spit on\n  start_ms: 148710\n  end_ms: 151710\n- text: I took an oath to rip everythin' I get on\n  start_ms: 151710\n  end_ms: 153830\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 153830\n  end_ms: 156520\n- text: In the wrist bones from grippin' microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156520\n  end_ms: 159080\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 159080\n  end_ms: 161040\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161040\n  end_ms: 163510\n- text: Nigga, try to flip and get flipped on!\n  start_ms: 163510\n  end_ms: 165400\n- text: My army march a million strong\n  start_ms: 165400\n  end_ms: 166720\n- text: Like the Nation of Islam with suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 166720\n  end_ms: 168960\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops dressed\n  start_ms: 168960\n  end_ms: 171560\n- text: In frog suits and night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171560\n  end_ms: 173810\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob shittin' on niggas\n  start_ms: 173810\n  end_ms: 176050\n- text: Drawn to a hideous form with horns and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176050\n  end_ms: 179040\n- text: Duckin' down low like we in 'Nam fightin' the Viet Cong\n  start_ms: 179040\n  end_ms: 181920\n- text: Screamin' \"Incoming!\" when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181920\n  end_ms: 184050\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184050\n  end_ms: 185840\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 185840\n  end_ms: 188480\n- text: Plus 800,000 to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188480\n  end_ms: 191130\n- text: And 200,000 more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 191130\n  end_ms: 193370\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193370\n  end_ms: 195130\n- text: My cavalry charge accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195130\n  end_ms: 198450\n- text: That smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198450\n  end_ms: 201120\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfuckin' asphalt\n  start_ms: 201120\n  end_ms: 203560\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds — you know who you are\n  start_ms: 203560\n  end_ms: 206640\n- text: Always talkin' about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 206640\n  end_ms: 208520\n- text: Your jewelry and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208520\n  end_ms: 211400\n- text: You motherfuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 211400\n  end_ms: 213290\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond ''em, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 213290\n  end_ms: 216210\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle\n  start_ms: 216210\n  end_ms: 218210\n- text: So I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 218210\n  end_ms: 219930\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219930\n  end_ms: 223450\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs\n  start_ms: 223450\n  end_ms: 225050\n- text: You feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 225050\n  end_ms: 227410\n- text: I flame broil suckers, then hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit!\n  start_ms: 227410\n  end_ms: 230970\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the Four Horsemen\n  start_ms: 230970\n  end_ms: 233180\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233180\n  end_ms: 236560\n- text: I dare a motherfucker to cross it!\n  start_ms: 236560\n  end_ms: 238330\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 238330\n  end_ms: 240850\n- text: Tell him it's important\n  start_ms: 240850\n  end_ms: 242050\n- text: Tell him to call Sting three-way and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 242050\n  end_ms: 244610\n- text: Break your camcorders, so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244610\n  end_ms: 247440\n- text: Call the news — I'll kill your reporters!\n  start_ms: 247440\n  end_ms: 249200\n- text: Start a lawsuit — I'll kill your lawyers!\n  start_ms: 249200\n  end_ms: 251090\n- text: Fuck the soft shit! And fuck what y'all think!\n  start_ms: 251090\n  end_ms: 253130\n- text: My album's gold 'cause my album was the bomb shit\n  start_ms: 253130\n  end_ms: 255600\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255600\n  end_ms: 258210\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258210\n  end_ms: 260650\n- text: '''Cause you a man, and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260650\n  end_ms: 263130\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263130\n  end_ms: 265730\n- text: That's some sick shit, homeboy\n  start_ms: 265730\n  end_ms: 267560\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267560\n  end_ms: 270330\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270330\n  end_ms: 273200\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273200\n  end_ms: 275570\n- text: You think you better than Canibus? Where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275570\n  end_ms: 278050\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278050\n  end_ms: 280650\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stink\n  start_ms: 280650\n  end_ms: 282970\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 282970\n  end_ms: 285160\n- text: Battlin' me, you never win\n  start_ms: 285160\n  end_ms: 286730\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in?\n  start_ms: 286730\n  end_ms: 289690\n- text: Nigga, guess again!\n  start_ms: 289690\n  end_ms: 290680\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wreckin'' this shit'\n  start_ms: 290680\n  end_ms: 292610\n- text: I'mma drink a whole bottle of Henny and go fuck a lesbian\n  start_ms: 292610\n  end_ms: 295880\n- text: -- Synced by NoMan --\n  start_ms: 295880\n  end_ms: 298240\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 298240\nplain: |\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there!\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit\n  So don't try this at home, yo\n  Yo! Yo! Yo!\n\n  My style of rhymin' is ancient like Aztecs and Mayans\n  Because I recognize it's all about timin'\n  Me and my freestyle alliance practicin' African voodoo science\n  In front of 20 foot bonfires, lookin' skyward\n  Calculatin' May 5, 2000, the nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet in the cockpit\n  Of a starship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets and a big-ass \"Canibus Coming Soon\" poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that wanna battle me\n  They even tried kidnappin' me, and they would've snatched me\n  If their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM 12\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail or get tossed towards Hell — whatever y'all feel!\n  Bruisin' niggas, confusin' niggas like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles, hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles stockpiled for miles from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced\n  And you'll get punched in the mouth with the southpaw southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit! Swell your lip bigger than Bubba Shrimp\n  For actin' tough and shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark ravin' mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode\n  And you get stabbed with all the flyin' glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircraft\n  Trained in chemical weapons class\n  Just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass with a can of pepper gas\n  Then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  \"You wanna battle?\" is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a solderin' iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize — my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five-speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind, I dedicate this to the wise\n  Dedicate it to dimes, dividin' myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offerings I offer\n  Flows that glow with auroras that sparkle like water\n  Fly like a saucer with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million MC's, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been gettin' it on since I been born, and I'mma live long\n  And I'mma be gettin' it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I been on, all the songs that I spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everythin' I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from grippin' microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga, try to flip and get flipped on!\n  My army march a million strong\n  Like the Nation of Islam with suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops dressed\n  In frog suits and night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob shittin' on niggas\n  Drawn to a hideous form with horns and a mink on\n  Duckin' down low like we in 'Nam fightin' the Viet Cong\n  Screamin' \"Incoming!\" when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus 800,000 to even consider a war\n  And 200,000 more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  That smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfuckin' asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds — you know who you are\n  Always talkin' about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewelry and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You motherfuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond 'em, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle\n  So I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs\n  You feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers, then hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit!\n  Call my reinforcements, the Four Horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a motherfucker to cross it!\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important\n  Tell him to call Sting three-way and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders, so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news — I'll kill your reporters!\n  Start a lawsuit — I'll kill your lawyers!\n  Fuck the soft shit! And fuck what y'all think!\n  My album's gold 'cause my album was the bomb shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man, and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit, homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you better than Canibus? Where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stink\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battlin' me, you never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in?\n  Nigga, guess again!\n  'Cause after I'm finished wreckin' this shit\n  I'mma drink a whole bottle of Henny and go fuck a lesbian\n  -- Synced by NoMan --\n"},{"id":8308453,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C. (Explicit Version)","duration":298.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: 2000 B.C. (Explicit Version)\n  duration_ms: 298000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":31557716,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"Artofficial Intelligence Prese","duration":298.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: Artofficial Intelligence Prese\n  duration_ms: 298000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":18182344,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus) (2000)","duration":298.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: 2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus) (2000)\n  duration_ms: 298000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":19140208,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C.","duration":306.8668,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: 2000 B.C.\n  duration_ms: 306867\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":18687532,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C.","duration":300.230667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.53] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:03.24] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:05.00] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:07.88] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:09.94] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.19] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.73] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.28] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.02] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:22.86] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:24.75] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:26.66] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.62] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.25] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.14] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:36.82] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.50] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.50] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:47.71] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.82] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:52.23] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.89] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.58] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.67] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.85] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.60] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.23] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.44] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.26] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:15.69] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:17.28] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.70] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.89] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.26] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.04] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.49] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:32.39] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.53] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:38.20] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.66] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.59] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:47.27] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.79] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.94] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.40] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:56.71] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.29] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.21] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.02] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.30] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:09.73] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:11.65] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.20] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.52] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:21.62] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:23.16] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.32] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:26.56] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.00] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:31.49] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:34.25] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:39.19] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.15] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.54] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.54] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.44] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:52.54] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.18] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:57.44] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:59.61] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:02.87] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.42] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.62] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:09.34] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:11.56] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:14.07] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:16.29] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.98] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:21.82] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:23.62] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:25.68] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.58] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:31.50] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:33.50] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:36.16] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.93] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:43.56] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.02] I flame broil suckers\n[03:49.35] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.85] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.68] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:57.27] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:58.96] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.27] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.36] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.01] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.55] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:16.24] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.38] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.75] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.49] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:25.72] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.38] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.54] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.18] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.85] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.33] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.67] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.17] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.65] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.56] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.36] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:52.85] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.07] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: 2000 B.C.\n  duration_ms: 300231\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 1530\n  end_ms: 3240\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 3240\n  end_ms: 5000\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 5000\n  end_ms: 7880\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 7880\n  end_ms: 9940\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 9940\n  end_ms: 12190\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12190\n  end_ms: 14730\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14730\n  end_ms: 17280\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17280\n  end_ms: 20020\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20020\n  end_ms: 22860\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 22860\n  end_ms: 24750\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 24750\n  end_ms: 26660\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 26660\n  end_ms: 29620\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29620\n  end_ms: 31250\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31250\n  end_ms: 34140\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34140\n  end_ms: 36820\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 36820\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41500\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41500\n  end_ms: 44500\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44500\n  end_ms: 47710\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 47710\n  end_ms: 49820\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49820\n  end_ms: 52230\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 52230\n  end_ms: 54890\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54890\n  end_ms: 56580\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56580\n  end_ms: 59670\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59670\n  end_ms: 62850\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62850\n  end_ms: 64600\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64600\n  end_ms: 66230\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66230\n  end_ms: 69440\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69440\n  end_ms: 72260\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72260\n  end_ms: 75690\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 75690\n  end_ms: 77280\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 77280\n  end_ms: 79700\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79700\n  end_ms: 81890\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81890\n  end_ms: 84260\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84260\n  end_ms: 86040\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86040\n  end_ms: 89490\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89490\n  end_ms: 92390\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 92390\n  end_ms: 94530\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94530\n  end_ms: 98200\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 98200\n  end_ms: 100660\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100660\n  end_ms: 104590\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104590\n  end_ms: 107270\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 107270\n  end_ms: 109790\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109790\n  end_ms: 111940\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111940\n  end_ms: 114400\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114400\n  end_ms: 116710\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 116710\n  end_ms: 119290\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119290\n  end_ms: 122210\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122210\n  end_ms: 124020\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124020\n  end_ms: 127300\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127300\n  end_ms: 129730\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 129730\n  end_ms: 131650\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 131650\n  end_ms: 134200\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134200\n  end_ms: 136520\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136520\n  end_ms: 141620\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 141620\n  end_ms: 143160\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 143160\n  end_ms: 144320\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144320\n  end_ms: 146560\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 146560\n  end_ms: 149000\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149000\n  end_ms: 151490\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 151490\n  end_ms: 154250\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 154250\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159190\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 159190\n  end_ms: 161150\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161150\n  end_ms: 163540\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163540\n  end_ms: 165540\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165540\n  end_ms: 168440\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168440\n  end_ms: 172540\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 172540\n  end_ms: 174180\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174180\n  end_ms: 177440\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 177440\n  end_ms: 179610\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 179610\n  end_ms: 182870\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 182870\n  end_ms: 184420\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184420\n  end_ms: 186620\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186620\n  end_ms: 189340\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 189340\n  end_ms: 191560\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 191560\n  end_ms: 194070\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 194070\n  end_ms: 196290\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 196290\n  end_ms: 198980\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198980\n  end_ms: 201820\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 201820\n  end_ms: 203620\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 203620\n  end_ms: 205680\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 205680\n  end_ms: 208580\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208580\n  end_ms: 211500\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 211500\n  end_ms: 213500\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 213500\n  end_ms: 216160\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 216160\n  end_ms: 219930\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219930\n  end_ms: 223560\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 223560\n  end_ms: 227020\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227020\n  end_ms: 229350\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 229350\n  end_ms: 230850\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230850\n  end_ms: 233680\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233680\n  end_ms: 237270\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 237270\n  end_ms: 238960\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 238960\n  end_ms: 241270\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241270\n  end_ms: 244360\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244360\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251010\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251010\n  end_ms: 253550\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253550\n  end_ms: 256240\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 256240\n  end_ms: 258380\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258380\n  end_ms: 260750\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260750\n  end_ms: 263490\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263490\n  end_ms: 265720\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 265720\n  end_ms: 267380\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267380\n  end_ms: 270540\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270540\n  end_ms: 273180\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273180\n  end_ms: 275850\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275850\n  end_ms: 278330\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278330\n  end_ms: 280670\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280670\n  end_ms: 283170\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283170\n  end_ms: 285650\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285650\n  end_ms: 287560\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287560\n  end_ms: 290360\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290360\n  end_ms: 292850\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 292850\n  end_ms: 295070\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295070\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":14568199,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)","duration":298.187755,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: 2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)\n  duration_ms: 298188\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":13475687,"name":"100 BARS","trackName":"100 BARS","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000B.C","duration":298.169625,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 BARS\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: 2000B.C\n  duration_ms: 298170\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":15370897,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"Lost Lyrics","duration":296.515918,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: Lost Lyrics\n  duration_ms: 296516\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":23464995,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000  B.C","duration":304.546583,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: 2000  B.C\n  duration_ms: 304547\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":21591708,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)","duration":300.3037079,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: 2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)\n  duration_ms: 300304\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":21348902,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"Essentials","duration":298.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: Essentials\n  duration_ms: 298000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":28705913,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"Top 680 Hip-Hop Songs of All Time","duration":297.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82] Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01] I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61] So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76] My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92] Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72] Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93] In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11] Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17] The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12] The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13] Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83] With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78] And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75] I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29] That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04] They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79] And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87] Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58] And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98] Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70] Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63] Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57] So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76] Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56] Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51] Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54] Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52] Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27] Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81] With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85] I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88] For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63] You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29] I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25] My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66] Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81] When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88] Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67] Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59] Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71] I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60] With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42] Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79] 'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46] Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22] Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63] You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45] Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80] A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61] A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95] I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20] Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54] You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62] Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48] Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01] Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23] Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12] And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13] Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11] I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04] A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78] In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50] I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29] That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28] Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55] My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84] Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89] And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14] A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31] With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99] Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25] Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12] Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22] You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04] Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48] And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64] You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68] My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24] And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84] And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69] Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49] You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75] Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04] You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01] 'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13] I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76] Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85] To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05] I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50] And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16] Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40] Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39] I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06] I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18] Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77] Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32] Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02] Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67] My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96] Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84] Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96] 'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11] You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86] That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48] A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46] You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15] With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63] You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15] You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30] You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39] Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94] Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59] You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34] 'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18] I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: Top 680 Hip-Hop Songs of All Time\n  duration_ms: 297000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":39621047,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C.","duration":269.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.82]Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n[00:06.01]I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n[00:08.61]So don't try this at home, yo.\n[00:10.04]Yo, yo, yo\n[00:10.76]My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n[00:12.92]Because I recognize it's all about timing\n[00:14.72]Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n[00:17.93]In front of twenty foot bonfires\n[00:20.11]Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n[00:23.17]The nine planets'll be in alignment\n[00:25.12]The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n[00:27.13]Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n[00:29.83]With mercury ion rockets\n[00:31.78]And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n[00:34.75]I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n[00:38.29]That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n[00:40.04]They even tried kidnapping me\n[00:41.79]And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n[00:44.87]Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n[00:46.58]And that's really what caused Roswell\n[00:49.98]Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n[00:51.70]Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n[00:54.63]Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n[00:56.57]So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n[00:59.76]Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n[01:02.56]Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n[01:04.51]Hear the wild wolf growl\n[01:06.54]Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n[01:09.52]Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n[01:12.27]Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n[01:14.81]With the Southpaw Southern fist\n[01:16.85]I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n[01:19.88]For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n[01:21.63]You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n[01:24.29]I'm an experiment gone bad\n[01:26.25]My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n[01:29.66]Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n[01:31.81]When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n[01:34.88]Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n[01:36.67]Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n[01:40.59]Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n[01:44.71]I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n[01:46.60]With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n[01:49.42]Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n[01:51.79]'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n[01:54.46]Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n[01:57.22]Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n[01:59.63]You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n[02:02.45]Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n[02:04.80]A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n[02:07.61]A nigga with a divine mind\n[02:10.95]I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n[02:12.20]Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n[02:14.54]You can't deny the offering's an offer\n[02:16.62]Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n[02:20.48]Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n[02:22.01]Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n[02:24.23]Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n[02:27.12]And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n[02:29.13]Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n[02:33.11]I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n[02:35.04]A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n[02:36.78]In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n[02:38.50]I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n[02:41.29]That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n[02:43.28]Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n[02:45.55]My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n[02:48.84]Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n[02:51.89]And night vision goggles\n[02:54.14]A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n[02:56.31]With horns, and a mink on\n[02:58.99]Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n[03:01.25]Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n[03:04.12]Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n[03:06.22]You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n[03:08.04]Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n[03:10.48]And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n[03:13.64]You better drop your flag and withdraw\n[03:15.68]My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n[03:18.24]And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n[03:19.84]And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n[03:22.69]Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n[03:24.49]You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n[03:28.75]Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n[03:32.04]You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n[03:36.01]'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n[03:37.13]I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n[03:39.76]Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n[03:41.85]To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n[03:47.05]I flame broil suckers\n[03:48.50]And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n[03:50.16]Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n[03:53.40]Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n[03:56.39]I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n[03:59.06]I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n[04:01.18]Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n[04:04.77]Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n[04:07.32]Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n[04:11.02]Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n[04:13.67]My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n[04:15.96]Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n[04:18.84]Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n[04:20.96]'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n[04:23.11]You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n[04:24.86]That's some sick shit homeboy\n[04:27.48]A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n[04:30.46]You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n[04:33.15]With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n[04:35.63]You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n[04:38.15]You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n[04:40.30]You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n[04:43.39]Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n[04:45.94]Battling me, you'll never win\n[04:47.59]You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n[04:50.34]'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n[04:53.18]I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n[04:55.11]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: 2000 B.C.\n  duration_ms: 268598\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 6010\n- text: I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  start_ms: 6010\n  end_ms: 8610\n- text: So don't try this at home, yo.\n  start_ms: 8610\n  end_ms: 10040\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 10040\n  end_ms: 10760\n- text: My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  start_ms: 10760\n  end_ms: 12920\n- text: Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  start_ms: 12920\n  end_ms: 14720\n- text: Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  start_ms: 14720\n  end_ms: 17930\n- text: In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  start_ms: 17930\n  end_ms: 20110\n- text: Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 23170\n- text: The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  start_ms: 23170\n  end_ms: 25120\n- text: The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  start_ms: 25120\n  end_ms: 27130\n- text: Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  start_ms: 27130\n  end_ms: 29830\n- text: With mercury ion rockets\n  start_ms: 29830\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34750\n- text: I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  start_ms: 34750\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 40040\n- text: They even tried kidnapping me\n  start_ms: 40040\n  end_ms: 41790\n- text: And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  start_ms: 41790\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 46580\n- text: And that's really what caused Roswell\n  start_ms: 46580\n  end_ms: 49980\n- text: Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  start_ms: 49980\n  end_ms: 51700\n- text: Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  start_ms: 51700\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 56570\n- text: So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  start_ms: 56570\n  end_ms: 59760\n- text: Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  start_ms: 59760\n  end_ms: 62560\n- text: Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  start_ms: 62560\n  end_ms: 64510\n- text: Hear the wild wolf growl\n  start_ms: 64510\n  end_ms: 66540\n- text: Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  start_ms: 66540\n  end_ms: 69520\n- text: Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  start_ms: 69520\n  end_ms: 72270\n- text: Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  start_ms: 72270\n  end_ms: 74810\n- text: With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  start_ms: 74810\n  end_ms: 76850\n- text: I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  start_ms: 76850\n  end_ms: 79880\n- text: For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  start_ms: 79880\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84290\n- text: I'm an experiment gone bad\n  start_ms: 84290\n  end_ms: 86250\n- text: My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  start_ms: 86250\n  end_ms: 89660\n- text: Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  start_ms: 89660\n  end_ms: 91810\n- text: When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  start_ms: 91810\n  end_ms: 94880\n- text: Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  start_ms: 94880\n  end_ms: 96670\n- text: Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  start_ms: 96670\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 104710\n- text: I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  start_ms: 104710\n  end_ms: 106600\n- text: With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  start_ms: 106600\n  end_ms: 109420\n- text: Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  start_ms: 109420\n  end_ms: 111790\n- text: '''You wanna battle?'' is the type of question you should never ask'\n  start_ms: 111790\n  end_ms: 114460\n- text: Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  start_ms: 114460\n  end_ms: 117220\n- text: Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  start_ms: 117220\n  end_ms: 119630\n- text: You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  start_ms: 119630\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124800\n- text: A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  start_ms: 124800\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: A nigga with a divine mind\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 132200\n- text: Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  start_ms: 132200\n  end_ms: 134540\n- text: You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  start_ms: 134540\n  end_ms: 136620\n- text: Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  start_ms: 136620\n  end_ms: 140480\n- text: Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  start_ms: 140480\n  end_ms: 142010\n- text: Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  start_ms: 142010\n  end_ms: 144230\n- text: Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  start_ms: 144230\n  end_ms: 147120\n- text: And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  start_ms: 147120\n  end_ms: 149130\n- text: Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  start_ms: 149130\n  end_ms: 153110\n- text: I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  start_ms: 153110\n  end_ms: 155040\n- text: A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158500\n- text: I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  start_ms: 158500\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 165550\n- text: My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  start_ms: 165550\n  end_ms: 168840\n- text: Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  start_ms: 168840\n  end_ms: 171890\n- text: And night vision goggles\n  start_ms: 171890\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 176310\n- text: With horns, and a mink on\n  start_ms: 176310\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 193640\n- text: You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  start_ms: 193640\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 198240\n- text: And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  start_ms: 198240\n  end_ms: 199840\n- text: And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  start_ms: 199840\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 204490\n- text: You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  start_ms: 204490\n  end_ms: 208750\n- text: Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  start_ms: 208750\n  end_ms: 212040\n- text: You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  start_ms: 212040\n  end_ms: 216010\n- text: '''Cause I''m beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit'\n  start_ms: 216010\n  end_ms: 217130\n- text: I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  start_ms: 217130\n  end_ms: 219760\n- text: Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  start_ms: 219760\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 227050\n- text: I flame broil suckers\n  start_ms: 227050\n  end_ms: 228500\n- text: And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  start_ms: 228500\n  end_ms: 230160\n- text: Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  start_ms: 230160\n  end_ms: 233400\n- text: Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  start_ms: 233400\n  end_ms: 236390\n- text: I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  start_ms: 236390\n  end_ms: 239060\n- text: I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  start_ms: 239060\n  end_ms: 241180\n- text: Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  start_ms: 241180\n  end_ms: 244770\n- text: Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  start_ms: 244770\n  end_ms: 247320\n- text: Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  start_ms: 247320\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 253670\n- text: My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  start_ms: 253670\n  end_ms: 255960\n- text: Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  start_ms: 255960\n  end_ms: 258840\n- text: Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  start_ms: 258840\n  end_ms: 260960\n- text: '''Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys'\n  start_ms: 260960\n  end_ms: 263110\n- text: You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  start_ms: 263110\n  end_ms: 264860\n- text: That's some sick shit homeboy\n  start_ms: 264860\n  end_ms: 267480\n- text: A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  start_ms: 267480\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 273150\n- text: With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  start_ms: 273150\n  end_ms: 275630\n- text: You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  start_ms: 275630\n  end_ms: 278150\n- text: You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  start_ms: 278150\n  end_ms: 280300\n- text: You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  start_ms: 280300\n  end_ms: 283390\n- text: Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  start_ms: 283390\n  end_ms: 285940\n- text: Battling me, you'll never win\n  start_ms: 285940\n  end_ms: 287590\n- text: You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  start_ms: 287590\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: '''Cause after I''m finished wrecking this shit'\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 293180\n- text: I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n  start_ms: 293180\n  end_ms: 295110\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 295110\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me, if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class, just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs, you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important, tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":40126765,"name":"100 Bars","trackName":"100 Bars","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"Promo","duration":298.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home, yo.\n\nYo, yo, yo\nMy style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\nBecause I recognize it's all about timing\nMe and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\nIn front of twenty foot bonfires\nLooking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\nThe nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\nOf a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically, and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnapping me\nAnd they would've snatched me,\nif their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives working for COM twelve\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically, I'm off-scale\nSo all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the Southpaw Southern fist\nI'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\nFor acting tough as shit, what a wimp\nYou giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad\nMy brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the Florence flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode and\nyou get stabbed with all the flying glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class,\njust to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\nWith a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\nDividing myself into a hundred ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\nAnd I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\nIn the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nThat gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong like\nthe Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\nExtremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\nAnd night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\nWith horns, and a mink on\nDucking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\nScreaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader, surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\nAnd two hundred thousand more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\nNine out of ten niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\nYou mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so\nI could read what prints across them\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer\nand cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs,\nyou feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers\nAnd hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\nCall my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a mother fucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\nTell him it's important,\ntell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news,\nI'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattling me, you'll never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that\ncould sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\nI'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: Promo\n  duration_ms: 297961\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home, yo.\n\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  My style of rhyming, is ancient like Aztec's and Mayan's\n  Because I recognize it's all about timing\n  Me and my freestyle alliance, practicing African Voodoo science\n  In front of twenty foot bonfires\n  Looking skyward, calculating May fifth, two thousand\n  The nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet, in the cockpit\n  Of a star ship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass, 'Canibus coming soon' poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically, and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnapping me\n  And they would've snatched me,\n  if their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed, crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives working for COM twelve\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically, I'm off-scale\n  So all hail, or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Bruising niggas, confusing niggas, like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles, stockpiled for miles, from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas wanna be down, but it's not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the Southpaw Southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit, swell your lip bigger than bubba shrimp\n  For acting tough as shit, what a wimp\n  You giant Goliath niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad\n  My brainwaves on an encephalograph show that I'm stark raving mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the Florence flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode and\n  you get stabbed with all the flying glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class,\n  just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask, spray his ass\n  With a can of pepper gas, then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  'You wanna battle?' is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task, see who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a soldering iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize, my hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the five speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than nine lives, infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise, dedicate it to dames\n  Dividing myself into a hundred ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's that spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer, with the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million emcees, then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been getting it on, since I been born, and I'ma live long\n  And I'ma be getting it on 'til I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I've been on, all the songs that I've spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have carpal tunnel syndrome\n  In the wrist bones from gripping microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  That gets pissed off whenever I get picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong like\n  the Nation of Islam, with Suede Timbs on\n  Extremely hostile, fully armed troops, dressed in frog-suits\n  And night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob, shitting on niggas drawn to a hideous form\n  With horns, and a mink on\n  Ducking down low like Vietnam, fighting the Vietcong\n  Screaming, 'incoming' when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader, surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus eight hundred thousand to even consider a war\n  And two hundred thousand more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge, accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all, attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfucking asphalt\n  Nine out of ten niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are, always talking about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewellery and your girls, it's like we from two different worlds\n  You mother fuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so\n  I could read what prints across them\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer\n  and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs,\n  you feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers\n  And hit 'em with some more shit, the raw shit\n  Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and, draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a mother fucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the morning\n  Tell him it's important,\n  tell him to call Sting three-way, and sing a chorus\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news,\n  I'll kill your reporters, start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold, 'cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat 'cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent, feminine, fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up 'cause your breath stinks\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battling me, you'll never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that\n  could sneak a weapon in? Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wrecking this shit\n  I'ma drink a whole bottle of Henney, and go fuck a lesbian //\n"},{"id":23902816,"name":"100 Bars (Album Version (Explicit))","trackName":"100 Bars (Album Version (Explicit))","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C.","duration":298.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah! That's the beat right there.\nI'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\nSo don't try this at home  yo.\nYo  yo  yo\nMy style of rhymin is ancient like Aztecs and Mayans\nBecause I recognize its all about timin'\nMe and my freestyle alliance practicin' African voodoo science\nIn front of 20 ft. bonfires lookin' skyward\nCalculating May 5  2000 the nine planets'll be in alignment\nThe arrival of the prophet in the cockpit\nOf a starship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\nWith mercury ion rockets\nAnd a big ass \"Canibus comin soon\" poster on the side of it\nI'm known geographically and intergalactically\nThat's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\nThey even tried kidnappin' me\nAnd they would've snatched me\nIf their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\nEngines stalled and failed. Crashed into a farmer's field\nAnd that's really what caused Roswell\nUndercover operatives workin' for COM 12\nDisguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\nLyrically I'm off scale\nSo all hail or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\nBriusin' niggas, confusin' niggas like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\nHit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\nHear the wild wolf growl\nStyles stockpiled for miles from the ground to the clouds\nWack niggas want to be down but its not allowed\nInterrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\nWith the southpaw southern fist\nI'll bust your shit. Swell your lip and get the Bubba shrimp\nBack the tougher shit. What a wimp\nYou giant Goliath. Niggas get shot with a rubber sling\nI'm an experiment gone bad.\nMy brainwave's on an ????? graph. Yo, I'm stark ravin mad\nYour whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\nWhen I throw the ????? flask in my hand\nFlammable liquids in the lab explode\nAnd you get stabbed with all the flyin glass\nTrained to blow up commercial aircrafts\nTrained in chemical weapons class\nJust to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\nI put him in a leather mask\nSpray his ass with a can of ???? gas\nThen watch him grab his neck and gag\nWatch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n\"You want to battle?\" is the type of question you should never ask\nNigga, pick a tougher task. See who the fuck'll last\nWhoever lose'll get a solderin' iron up the ass\nYou need to recognize\nMy hand is quicker than the eye\nQuicker than the 5 speed Jamiroquai drives\nA lifespan longer than 9 lives. Infinite rhymes that can't die\nA nigga with a divine mind\nI dedicate this to the wise. Dedicate it to dames\nDividin' myself into 100 ten times\nYou can't deny the offering's an offer\nFlows that glow with aurora's the spark of light\nWater fly like a saucer\nWith the torque of a Porsche\nMurder a million MCs then autograph all of their coffins\nBeen gettin' it on since I been born and I'm a live long\nAnd I'm a be gettin' it on till I'm gone\nLook at all the stages I been on. All the songs that I spit on\nI took an oath to rip everything I get on\nA nigga like me should have Carpal Tunnel syndromes\nIn the wristbones from grippin' microphones this long\nI'm just a small fish in a big pond\nAnd gets pissed off whenever I gets picked on\nNigga try to flip and get flipped on\nMy army march a million strong\nLike the nation of Islam with suede timbs on\nExtremely hostile\nFully armed troops dressed in frog suits and night vision goggles\nA lyrical lynch mob\nShittin' on niggas drawn to a hideous form with horns and a mink on\nDuckin' down low like Vietnam fightin' the Vietcong\nScreamin' \"incomin'\" when I see a bomb\nSpeak to your leader. Surrender your arms\nYou need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\nPlus 800,000 to even consider a war\nAnd 200,000 more to even look hard\nYou better drop your flag and withdraw\nMy cavalry charge accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\nAnd smash y'all. Attach y'all to the back of my horse\nAnd drag y'all across the motherfuckin' asphalt\n9 out of 10 niggas is frauds\nYou know who you are always talkin' about your bitches and your cars\nYour jewelry and your girls. It's like we from two different worlds\nYou motherfuckers really get on my nerves\n'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\nI close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what picture crossed in\nThen raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\nTo barbecue your brain organs\nYou feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\nI flame broil suckers and hit 'em with some more shit\nThe raw shit. Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\nTake a big piece of chalk and draw a line across the stage pulpit\nI dare a motherfucker to cross it\nI'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the mornin\nTell him it's important. Tell him to call Sting 3 way and sing a\n[Chorus]\nBreak your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\nCall the news, I'll kill your reporters\nStart a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\nFuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\nMy album's gold cause my album was the bomb, shit\nY'all niggas got your ass beat cause you asked for it\nGot your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\nYou fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\nThat's some sick shit homeboy\nA hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\nYou fraudulent. Feminine. Fragile as a feather is\nWith an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\nYou think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\nYou got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\nYou need to shut the fuck up cause your breath stink\nTake fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\nBattlin' me you never win\nYou thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in?\nNigga guess again\n'Cause after I'm finished wreckin this shit\nI'm a drink a whole bottle of Henney and go fuck a lesbian","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 100 Bars (Album Version (Explicit))\n  artist: Canibus\n  album: 2000 B.C.\n  duration_ms: 298000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah! That's the beat right there.\n  I'm about to black out with 100 bars on some professional shit.\n  So don't try this at home  yo.\n  Yo  yo  yo\n  My style of rhymin is ancient like Aztecs and Mayans\n  Because I recognize its all about timin'\n  Me and my freestyle alliance practicin' African voodoo science\n  In front of 20 ft. bonfires lookin' skyward\n  Calculating May 5  2000 the nine planets'll be in alignment\n  The arrival of the prophet in the cockpit\n  Of a starship the size of the Hale-Bopp comet\n  With mercury ion rockets\n  And a big ass \"Canibus comin soon\" poster on the side of it\n  I'm known geographically and intergalactically\n  That's why I got extraterrestrials that want to battle me\n  They even tried kidnappin' me\n  And they would've snatched me\n  If their craft didn't get trapped in the Earth's gravity\n  Engines stalled and failed. Crashed into a farmer's field\n  And that's really what caused Roswell\n  Undercover operatives workin' for COM 12\n  Disguised as a nigga signed with a record deal\n  Lyrically I'm off scale\n  So all hail or get tossed towards Hell, whatever y'all feel\n  Briusin' niggas, confusin' niggas like Chip Fu from the Fu-Schnickens\n  Hit you with nuclear cruiser missiles\n  Hear the wild wolf growl\n  Styles stockpiled for miles from the ground to the clouds\n  Wack niggas want to be down but its not allowed\n  Interrupt the cipher unannounced and you'll get punched in the mouth\n  With the southpaw southern fist\n  I'll bust your shit. Swell your lip and get the Bubba shrimp\n  Back the tougher shit. What a wimp\n  You giant Goliath. Niggas get shot with a rubber sling\n  I'm an experiment gone bad.\n  My brainwave's on an ????? graph. Yo, I'm stark ravin mad\n  Your whole scientific staff'll get killed in a nuclear blast\n  When I throw the ????? flask in my hand\n  Flammable liquids in the lab explode\n  And you get stabbed with all the flyin glass\n  Trained to blow up commercial aircrafts\n  Trained in chemical weapons class\n  Just to see how long a nigga's breath'll last\n  I put him in a leather mask\n  Spray his ass with a can of ???? gas\n  Then watch him grab his neck and gag\n  Watch the nigga choke to death as I laugh\n  \"You want to battle?\" is the type of question you should never ask\n  Nigga, pick a tougher task. See who the fuck'll last\n  Whoever lose'll get a solderin' iron up the ass\n  You need to recognize\n  My hand is quicker than the eye\n  Quicker than the 5 speed Jamiroquai drives\n  A lifespan longer than 9 lives. Infinite rhymes that can't die\n  A nigga with a divine mind\n  I dedicate this to the wise. Dedicate it to dames\n  Dividin' myself into 100 ten times\n  You can't deny the offering's an offer\n  Flows that glow with aurora's the spark of light\n  Water fly like a saucer\n  With the torque of a Porsche\n  Murder a million MCs then autograph all of their coffins\n  Been gettin' it on since I been born and I'm a live long\n  And I'm a be gettin' it on till I'm gone\n  Look at all the stages I been on. All the songs that I spit on\n  I took an oath to rip everything I get on\n  A nigga like me should have Carpal Tunnel syndromes\n  In the wristbones from grippin' microphones this long\n  I'm just a small fish in a big pond\n  And gets pissed off whenever I gets picked on\n  Nigga try to flip and get flipped on\n  My army march a million strong\n  Like the nation of Islam with suede timbs on\n  Extremely hostile\n  Fully armed troops dressed in frog suits and night vision goggles\n  A lyrical lynch mob\n  Shittin' on niggas drawn to a hideous form with horns and a mink on\n  Duckin' down low like Vietnam fightin' the Vietcong\n  Screamin' \"incomin'\" when I see a bomb\n  Speak to your leader. Surrender your arms\n  You need about a million more soldiers to even the odds\n  Plus 800,000 to even consider a war\n  And 200,000 more to even look hard\n  You better drop your flag and withdraw\n  My cavalry charge accompanied by a blizzard of wicked metaphors\n  And smash y'all. Attach y'all to the back of my horse\n  And drag y'all across the motherfuckin' asphalt\n  9 out of 10 niggas is frauds\n  You know who you are always talkin' about your bitches and your cars\n  Your jewelry and your girls. It's like we from two different worlds\n  You motherfuckers really get on my nerves\n  'Cause I'm beyond them, on some futuristic cyborg shit\n  I close my eyes when I freestyle so I could read what picture crossed in\n  Then raise my arms like a sorcerer and cast a fireball into the audience\n  To barbecue your brain organs\n  You feel like you've been thrown in a microwave oven\n  I flame broil suckers and hit 'em with some more shit\n  The raw shit. Call my reinforcements, the four horsemen\n  Take a big piece of chalk and draw a line across the stage pulpit\n  I dare a motherfucker to cross it\n  I'll even call my man Black Rob at two in the mornin\n  Tell him it's important. Tell him to call Sting 3 way and sing a\n  [Chorus]\n  Break your camcorders so you motherfuckers can't record it\n  Call the news, I'll kill your reporters\n  Start a lawsuit, I'll kill your lawyers\n  Fuck the soft shit and fuck what y'all think\n  My album's gold cause my album was the bomb, shit\n  Y'all niggas got your ass beat cause you asked for it\n  Got your picture taken and put in a tabloid\n  'Cause you a man and you like to touch little boys\n  You fuck 'em in the ass, then you give 'em cash for it\n  That's some sick shit homeboy\n  A hundred years ago, they'd have took you to see Sigmund Freud\n  You fraudulent. Feminine. Fragile as a feather is\n  With an effortless blow, I'll crack your whole skeleton\n  You think you're better than Canibus, where's the evidence?\n  You got below average intelligence and poor penmanship\n  You need to shut the fuck up cause your breath stink\n  Take fifty cents and purchase a pack of peppermints\n  Battlin' me you never win\n  You thought you was the only nigga that could sneak a weapon in?\n  Nigga guess again\n  'Cause after I'm finished wreckin this shit\n  I'm a drink a whole bottle of Henney and go fuck a lesbian\n"}]