[{"id":17503866,"name":"Horsementality","trackName":"Horsementality","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)","duration":359.505667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginning of the end niggas!\n\n(Canibus)\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talking bout cheddar\n\n(Ras Kass)\nBrought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen\n\n(Canibus)\nFour swordsmen (From the land of the lost)\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut\nMOTHAFUCKER!\n\n(Both) Wavin the four-four!\n\n(Kurupt)\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlasting, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas\nMotherfuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCuz we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nA Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of this Barkley shit\nNiggas talking shit, I wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again\nPolice calling all cars off then\nPowerful as a motherfucking Vulcan\nMy speciality is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically\nDogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust thirty-thirty shit\nMissile click, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC nigga\n(C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n(Canibus)\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\n\n(Killah Priest)\nMotherfucker, it's started, four apocalyptic prophets\nAppearing outta floating objects\nWearing mid-western garments\nLong trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets\nSlapping all you scary-ass rap artists half retarded\nSwear by our fore fathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side as a carcus\nI'm heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage\nI see all of y'all as moving targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rocket\nCosmic vomic spitting, hitting at ya Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCasting meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next rise comet\nAnd be the first one left unconscious\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt\nHave your seance inside of a dark synagogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike demigod to put a end to y'all\nSpit bites like dogs and get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorching when we be walking\nWit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n(Ras Kass)\nLet's serve it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rocking Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap\nJust modelling, go gold and get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I'm ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines\nCatch me hopping off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference\nSo when my bitch is a six, she really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hitting jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doing my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jacking blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin\nUckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray\n(*Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas*)\n\n(Canibus)\nI kick a with six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightning flash across the sky, every time I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes, give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six masters of ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a Catholic, I'll nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him 'til he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture with six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat him with two-whips, with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew gets bayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot at you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armoured cars and your Kevlar vests is useless\nI'ma fuck all of you pussies like group-sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor biting off another niggas' shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitching on mad niggas' in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentences knocked off, nigga you wilding\n'Cause you'll still be in Riker's Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, with a phobia fear of that\nI'ma tape it on a digital video D.A.T., and send a copy to Mirimax\nLeave you exposed, turn on the Fiction or Fact, so everybody you know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fucking ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by a father figure\nBattle who? I bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you with a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDelivering mind-blowing rhymes and poems\nControlling my tongue when I'm flowing like pilots controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\nThen gallop northwards\nSo, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\nThen gallop northwards\n\nYeah, so just abide by what your ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\nJust abide by what your ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n(All)\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore\n\n(Kurupt)\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWit my motherfucking arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nThrow the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n*Fading*\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fucking 'round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality\n artist: Canibus\n album: 2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)\n duration_ms: 359506\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginning of the end niggas!\n\n (Canibus)\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talking bout cheddar\n\n (Ras Kass)\n Brought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen\n\n (Canibus)\n Four swordsmen (From the land of the lost)\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut\n MOTHAFUCKER!\n\n (Both) Wavin the four-four!\n\n (Kurupt)\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blasting, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas\n Motherfuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cuz we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n A Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of this Barkley shit\n Niggas talking shit, I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again\n Police calling all cars off then\n Powerful as a motherfucking Vulcan\n My speciality is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically\n Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust thirty-thirty shit\n Missile click, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC nigga\n (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n (Canibus)\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n\n (Killah Priest)\n Motherfucker, it's started, four apocalyptic prophets\n Appearing outta floating objects\n Wearing mid-western garments\n Long trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets\n Slapping all you scary-ass rap artists half retarded\n Swear by our fore fathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side as a carcus\n I'm heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage\n I see all of y'all as moving targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rocket\n Cosmic vomic spitting, hitting at ya Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Casting meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next rise comet\n And be the first one left unconscious\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt\n Have your seance inside of a dark synagogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like demigod to put a end to y'all\n Spit bites like dogs and get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorching when we be walking\n Wit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n (Ras Kass)\n Let's serve it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rocking Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap\n Just modelling, go gold and get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I'm ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines\n Catch me hopping off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference\n So when my bitch is a six, she really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hitting jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doing my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jacking blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin\n Uckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray\n (*Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas*)\n\n (Canibus)\n I kick a with six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightning flash across the sky, every time I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes, give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six masters of ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a Catholic, I'll nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him 'til he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture with six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat him with two-whips, with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew gets bayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot at you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armoured cars and your Kevlar vests is useless\n I'ma fuck all of you pussies like group-sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For biting off another niggas' shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitching on mad niggas' in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentences knocked off, nigga you wilding\n 'Cause you'll still be in Riker's Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, with a phobia fear of that\n I'ma tape it on a digital video D.A.T., and send a copy to Mirimax\n Leave you exposed, turn on the Fiction or Fact, so everybody you know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fucking ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by a father figure\n Battle who? I bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you with a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Delivering mind-blowing rhymes and poems\n Controlling my tongue when I'm flowing like pilots controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\n Then gallop northwards\n So, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\n Then gallop northwards\n\n Yeah, so just abide by what your ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n Just abide by what your ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n (All)\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore\n\n (Kurupt)\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n Wit my motherfucking arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n Throw the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n *Fading*\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fucking 'round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog\n"},{"id":20654427,"name":"Horsementality","trackName":"Horsementality","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C.","duration":361.331083,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginning of the end niggas!\n\n(Canibus)\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talking bout cheddar\n\n(Ras Kass)\nBrought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen\n\n(Canibus)\nFour swordsmen (From the land of the lost)\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut\nMOTHAFUCKER!\n\n(Both) Wavin the four-four!\n\n(Kurupt)\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlasting, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas\nMotherfuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCuz we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nA Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of this Barkley shit\nNiggas talking shit, I wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again\nPolice calling all cars off then\nPowerful as a motherfucking Vulcan\nMy speciality is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically\nDogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust thirty-thirty shit\nMissile click, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC nigga\n(C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n(Canibus)\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\n\n(Killah Priest)\nMotherfucker, it's started, four apocalyptic prophets\nAppearing outta floating objects\nWearing mid-western garments\nLong trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets\nSlapping all you scary-ass rap artists half retarded\nSwear by our fore fathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side as a carcus\nI'm heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage\nI see all of y'all as moving targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rocket\nCosmic vomic spitting, hitting at ya Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCasting meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next rise comet\nAnd be the first one left unconscious\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt\nHave your seance inside of a dark synagogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike demigod to put a end to y'all\nSpit bites like dogs and get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorching when we be walking\nWit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n(Ras Kass)\nLet's serve it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rocking Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap\nJust modelling, go gold and get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I'm ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines\nCatch me hopping off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference\nSo when my bitch is a six, she really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hitting jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doing my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jacking blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin\nUckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray\n(*Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas*)\n\n(Canibus)\nI kick a with six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightning flash across the sky, every time I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes, give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six masters of ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a Catholic, I'll nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him 'til he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture with six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat him with two-whips, with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew gets bayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot at you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armoured cars and your Kevlar vests is useless\nI'ma fuck all of you pussies like group-sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor biting off another niggas' shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitching on mad niggas' in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentences knocked off, nigga you wilding\n'Cause you'll still be in Riker's Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, with a phobia fear of that\nI'ma tape it on a digital video D.A.T., and send a copy to Mirimax\nLeave you exposed, turn on the Fiction or Fact, so everybody you know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fucking ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by a father figure\nBattle who? I bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you with a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDelivering mind-blowing rhymes and poems\nControlling my tongue when I'm flowing like pilots controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\nThen gallop northwards\nSo, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\nThen gallop northwards\n\nYeah, so just abide by what your ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\nJust abide by what your ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n(All)\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore\n\n(Kurupt)\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWit my motherfucking arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nThrow the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n*Fading*\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fucking 'round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality\n artist: Canibus\n album: 2000 B.C.\n duration_ms: 361331\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginning of the end niggas!\n\n (Canibus)\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talking bout cheddar\n\n (Ras Kass)\n Brought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen\n\n (Canibus)\n Four swordsmen (From the land of the lost)\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut\n MOTHAFUCKER!\n\n (Both) Wavin the four-four!\n\n (Kurupt)\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blasting, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas\n Motherfuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cuz we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n A Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of this Barkley shit\n Niggas talking shit, I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again\n Police calling all cars off then\n Powerful as a motherfucking Vulcan\n My speciality is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically\n Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust thirty-thirty shit\n Missile click, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC nigga\n (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n (Canibus)\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n\n (Killah Priest)\n Motherfucker, it's started, four apocalyptic prophets\n Appearing outta floating objects\n Wearing mid-western garments\n Long trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets\n Slapping all you scary-ass rap artists half retarded\n Swear by our fore fathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side as a carcus\n I'm heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage\n I see all of y'all as moving targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rocket\n Cosmic vomic spitting, hitting at ya Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Casting meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next rise comet\n And be the first one left unconscious\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt\n Have your seance inside of a dark synagogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like demigod to put a end to y'all\n Spit bites like dogs and get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorching when we be walking\n Wit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n (Ras Kass)\n Let's serve it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rocking Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap\n Just modelling, go gold and get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I'm ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines\n Catch me hopping off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference\n So when my bitch is a six, she really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hitting jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doing my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jacking blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin\n Uckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray\n (*Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas*)\n\n (Canibus)\n I kick a with six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightning flash across the sky, every time I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes, give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six masters of ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a Catholic, I'll nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him 'til he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture with six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat him with two-whips, with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew gets bayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot at you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armoured cars and your Kevlar vests is useless\n I'ma fuck all of you pussies like group-sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For biting off another niggas' shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitching on mad niggas' in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentences knocked off, nigga you wilding\n 'Cause you'll still be in Riker's Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, with a phobia fear of that\n I'ma tape it on a digital video D.A.T., and send a copy to Mirimax\n Leave you exposed, turn on the Fiction or Fact, so everybody you know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fucking ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by a father figure\n Battle who? I bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you with a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Delivering mind-blowing rhymes and poems\n Controlling my tongue when I'm flowing like pilots controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\n Then gallop northwards\n So, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\n Then gallop northwards\n\n Yeah, so just abide by what your ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n Just abide by what your ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n (All)\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore\n\n (Kurupt)\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n Wit my motherfucking arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n Throw the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n *Fading*\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fucking 'round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog\n"},{"id":13632758,"name":"Horsementality","trackName":"Horsementality","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C.","duration":358.31525,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginning of the end niggas!\n\n(Canibus)\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talking bout cheddar\n\n(Ras Kass)\nBrought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen\n\n(Canibus)\nFour swordsmen (From the land of the lost)\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut\nMOTHAFUCKER!\n\n(Both) Wavin the four-four!\n\n(Kurupt)\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlasting, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas\nMotherfuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCuz we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nA Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of this Barkley shit\nNiggas talking shit, I wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again\nPolice calling all cars off then\nPowerful as a motherfucking Vulcan\nMy speciality is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically\nDogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust thirty-thirty shit\nMissile click, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC nigga\n(C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n(Canibus)\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\n\n(Killah Priest)\nMotherfucker, it's started, four apocalyptic prophets\nAppearing outta floating objects\nWearing mid-western garments\nLong trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets\nSlapping all you scary-ass rap artists half retarded\nSwear by our fore fathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side as a carcus\nI'm heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage\nI see all of y'all as moving targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rocket\nCosmic vomic spitting, hitting at ya Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCasting meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next rise comet\nAnd be the first one left unconscious\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt\nHave your seance inside of a dark synagogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike demigod to put a end to y'all\nSpit bites like dogs and get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorching when we be walking\nWit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n(Ras Kass)\nLet's serve it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rocking Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap\nJust modelling, go gold and get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I'm ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines\nCatch me hopping off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference\nSo when my bitch is a six, she really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hitting jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doing my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jacking blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin\nUckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray\n(*Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas*)\n\n(Canibus)\nI kick a with six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightning flash across the sky, every time I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes, give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six masters of ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a Catholic, I'll nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him 'til he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture with six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat him with two-whips, with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew gets bayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot at you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armoured cars and your Kevlar vests is useless\nI'ma fuck all of you pussies like group-sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor biting off another niggas' shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitching on mad niggas' in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentences knocked off, nigga you wilding\n'Cause you'll still be in Riker's Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, with a phobia fear of that\nI'ma tape it on a digital video D.A.T., and send a copy to Mirimax\nLeave you exposed, turn on the Fiction or Fact, so everybody you know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fucking ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by a father figure\nBattle who? I bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you with a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDelivering mind-blowing rhymes and poems\nControlling my tongue when I'm flowing like pilots controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\nThen gallop northwards\nSo, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\nThen gallop northwards\n\nYeah, so just abide by what your ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\nJust abide by what your ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n(All)\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore\n\n(Kurupt)\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWit my motherfucking arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nThrow the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n*Fading*\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fucking 'round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality\n artist: Canibus\n album: 2000 B.C.\n duration_ms: 358315\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginning of the end niggas!\n\n (Canibus)\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talking bout cheddar\n\n (Ras Kass)\n Brought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen\n\n (Canibus)\n Four swordsmen (From the land of the lost)\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut\n MOTHAFUCKER!\n\n (Both) Wavin the four-four!\n\n (Kurupt)\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blasting, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas\n Motherfuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cuz we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n A Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of this Barkley shit\n Niggas talking shit, I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again\n Police calling all cars off then\n Powerful as a motherfucking Vulcan\n My speciality is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically\n Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust thirty-thirty shit\n Missile click, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC nigga\n (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n (Canibus)\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n\n (Killah Priest)\n Motherfucker, it's started, four apocalyptic prophets\n Appearing outta floating objects\n Wearing mid-western garments\n Long trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets\n Slapping all you scary-ass rap artists half retarded\n Swear by our fore fathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side as a carcus\n I'm heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage\n I see all of y'all as moving targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rocket\n Cosmic vomic spitting, hitting at ya Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Casting meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next rise comet\n And be the first one left unconscious\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt\n Have your seance inside of a dark synagogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like demigod to put a end to y'all\n Spit bites like dogs and get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorching when we be walking\n Wit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n (Ras Kass)\n Let's serve it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rocking Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap\n Just modelling, go gold and get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I'm ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines\n Catch me hopping off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference\n So when my bitch is a six, she really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hitting jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doing my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jacking blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin\n Uckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray\n (*Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas*)\n\n (Canibus)\n I kick a with six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightning flash across the sky, every time I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes, give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six masters of ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a Catholic, I'll nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him 'til he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture with six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat him with two-whips, with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew gets bayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot at you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armoured cars and your Kevlar vests is useless\n I'ma fuck all of you pussies like group-sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For biting off another niggas' shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitching on mad niggas' in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentences knocked off, nigga you wilding\n 'Cause you'll still be in Riker's Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, with a phobia fear of that\n I'ma tape it on a digital video D.A.T., and send a copy to Mirimax\n Leave you exposed, turn on the Fiction or Fact, so everybody you know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fucking ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by a father figure\n Battle who? I bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you with a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Delivering mind-blowing rhymes and poems\n Controlling my tongue when I'm flowing like pilots controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\n Then gallop northwards\n So, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\n Then gallop northwards\n\n Yeah, so just abide by what your ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n Just abide by what your ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n (All)\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore\n\n (Kurupt)\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n Wit my motherfucking arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n Throw the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n *Fading*\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fucking 'round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog\n"},{"id":13474906,"name":"HORSEMENTALITY","trackName":"HORSEMENTALITY","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000B.C","duration":359.505125,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginning of the end niggas!\n\n(Canibus)\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talking bout cheddar\n\n(Ras Kass)\nBrought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen\n\n(Canibus)\nFour swordsmen (From the land of the lost)\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut\nMOTHAFUCKER!\n\n(Both) Wavin the four-four!\n\n(Kurupt)\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlasting, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas\nMotherfuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCuz we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nA Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of this Barkley shit\nNiggas talking shit, I wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again\nPolice calling all cars off then\nPowerful as a motherfucking Vulcan\nMy speciality is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically\nDogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust thirty-thirty shit\nMissile click, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC nigga\n(C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n(Canibus)\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\n\n(Killah Priest)\nMotherfucker, it's started, four apocalyptic prophets\nAppearing outta floating objects\nWearing mid-western garments\nLong trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets\nSlapping all you scary-ass rap artists half retarded\nSwear by our fore fathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side as a carcus\nI'm heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage\nI see all of y'all as moving targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rocket\nCosmic vomic spitting, hitting at ya Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCasting meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next rise comet\nAnd be the first one left unconscious\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt\nHave your seance inside of a dark synagogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike demigod to put a end to y'all\nSpit bites like dogs and get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorching when we be walking\nWit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n(Ras Kass)\nLet's serve it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rocking Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap\nJust modelling, go gold and get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I'm ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines\nCatch me hopping off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference\nSo when my bitch is a six, she really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hitting jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doing my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jacking blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin\nUckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray\n(*Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas*)\n\n(Canibus)\nI kick a with six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightning flash across the sky, every time I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes, give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six masters of ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a Catholic, I'll nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him 'til he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture with six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat him with two-whips, with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew gets bayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot at you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armoured cars and your Kevlar vests is useless\nI'ma fuck all of you pussies like group-sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor biting off another niggas' shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitching on mad niggas' in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentences knocked off, nigga you wilding\n'Cause you'll still be in Riker's Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, with a phobia fear of that\nI'ma tape it on a digital video D.A.T., and send a copy to Mirimax\nLeave you exposed, turn on the Fiction or Fact, so everybody you know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fucking ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by a father figure\nBattle who? I bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you with a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDelivering mind-blowing rhymes and poems\nControlling my tongue when I'm flowing like pilots controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\nThen gallop northwards\nSo, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\nThen gallop northwards\n\nYeah, so just abide by what your ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\nJust abide by what your ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n(All)\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore\n\n(Kurupt)\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWit my motherfucking arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nThrow the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n*Fading*\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fucking 'round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: HORSEMENTALITY\n artist: Canibus\n album: 2000B.C\n duration_ms: 359505\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginning of the end niggas!\n\n (Canibus)\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talking bout cheddar\n\n (Ras Kass)\n Brought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen\n\n (Canibus)\n Four swordsmen (From the land of the lost)\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut\n MOTHAFUCKER!\n\n (Both) Wavin the four-four!\n\n (Kurupt)\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blasting, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas\n Motherfuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cuz we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n A Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of this Barkley shit\n Niggas talking shit, I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again\n Police calling all cars off then\n Powerful as a motherfucking Vulcan\n My speciality is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically\n Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust thirty-thirty shit\n Missile click, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC nigga\n (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n (Canibus)\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n\n (Killah Priest)\n Motherfucker, it's started, four apocalyptic prophets\n Appearing outta floating objects\n Wearing mid-western garments\n Long trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets\n Slapping all you scary-ass rap artists half retarded\n Swear by our fore fathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side as a carcus\n I'm heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage\n I see all of y'all as moving targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rocket\n Cosmic vomic spitting, hitting at ya Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Casting meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next rise comet\n And be the first one left unconscious\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt\n Have your seance inside of a dark synagogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like demigod to put a end to y'all\n Spit bites like dogs and get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorching when we be walking\n Wit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n (Ras Kass)\n Let's serve it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rocking Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap\n Just modelling, go gold and get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I'm ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines\n Catch me hopping off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference\n So when my bitch is a six, she really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hitting jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doing my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jacking blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin\n Uckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray\n (*Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas*)\n\n (Canibus)\n I kick a with six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightning flash across the sky, every time I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes, give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six masters of ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a Catholic, I'll nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him 'til he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture with six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat him with two-whips, with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew gets bayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot at you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armoured cars and your Kevlar vests is useless\n I'ma fuck all of you pussies like group-sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For biting off another niggas' shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitching on mad niggas' in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentences knocked off, nigga you wilding\n 'Cause you'll still be in Riker's Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, with a phobia fear of that\n I'ma tape it on a digital video D.A.T., and send a copy to Mirimax\n Leave you exposed, turn on the Fiction or Fact, so everybody you know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fucking ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by a father figure\n Battle who? I bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you with a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Delivering mind-blowing rhymes and poems\n Controlling my tongue when I'm flowing like pilots controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\n Then gallop northwards\n So, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\n Then gallop northwards\n\n Yeah, so just abide by what your ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n Just abide by what your ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n (All)\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore\n\n (Kurupt)\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n Wit my motherfucking arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n Throw the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n *Fading*\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fucking 'round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog\n"},{"id":21910477,"name":"Horsementality","trackName":"Horsementality","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 BC","duration":361.331083,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginning of the end niggas!\n\n(Canibus)\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talking bout cheddar\n\n(Ras Kass)\nBrought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen\n\n(Canibus)\nFour swordsmen (From the land of the lost)\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut\nMOTHAFUCKER!\n\n(Both) Wavin the four-four!\n\n(Kurupt)\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlasting, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas\nMotherfuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCuz we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nA Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of this Barkley shit\nNiggas talking shit, I wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again\nPolice calling all cars off then\nPowerful as a motherfucking Vulcan\nMy speciality is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically\nDogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust thirty-thirty shit\nMissile click, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC nigga\n(C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n(Canibus)\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\n\n(Killah Priest)\nMotherfucker, it's started, four apocalyptic prophets\nAppearing outta floating objects\nWearing mid-western garments\nLong trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets\nSlapping all you scary-ass rap artists half retarded\nSwear by our fore fathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side as a carcus\nI'm heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage\nI see all of y'all as moving targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rocket\nCosmic vomic spitting, hitting at ya Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCasting meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next rise comet\nAnd be the first one left unconscious\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt\nHave your seance inside of a dark synagogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike demigod to put a end to y'all\nSpit bites like dogs and get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorching when we be walking\nWit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n(Ras Kass)\nLet's serve it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rocking Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap\nJust modelling, go gold and get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I'm ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines\nCatch me hopping off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference\nSo when my bitch is a six, she really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hitting jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doing my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jacking blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin\nUckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray\n(*Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas*)\n\n(Canibus)\nI kick a with six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightning flash across the sky, every time I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes, give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six masters of ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a Catholic, I'll nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him 'til he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture with six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat him with two-whips, with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew gets bayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot at you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armoured cars and your Kevlar vests is useless\nI'ma fuck all of you pussies like group-sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor biting off another niggas' shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitching on mad niggas' in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentences knocked off, nigga you wilding\n'Cause you'll still be in Riker's Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, with a phobia fear of that\nI'ma tape it on a digital video D.A.T., and send a copy to Mirimax\nLeave you exposed, turn on the Fiction or Fact, so everybody you know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fucking ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by a father figure\nBattle who? I bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you with a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDelivering mind-blowing rhymes and poems\nControlling my tongue when I'm flowing like pilots controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\nThen gallop northwards\nSo, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\nThen gallop northwards\n\nYeah, so just abide by what your ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by\nJust abide by what your ride by\nCuz we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n(All)\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore\n\n(Kurupt)\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWit my motherfucking arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nThrow the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n*Fading*\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fucking 'round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality\n artist: Canibus\n album: 2000 BC\n duration_ms: 361331\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginning of the end niggas!\n\n (Canibus)\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever, the alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talking bout cheddar\n\n (Ras Kass)\n Brought to you by your millennium group The Horsemen\n\n (Canibus)\n Four swordsmen (From the land of the lost)\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut\n MOTHAFUCKER!\n\n (Both) Wavin the four-four!\n\n (Kurupt)\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blasting, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas\n Motherfuck a six, the condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cuz we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n A Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of this Barkley shit\n Niggas talking shit, I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again\n Police calling all cars off then\n Powerful as a motherfucking Vulcan\n My speciality is poetically lyrically energetically ultramagnetically\n Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust thirty-thirty shit\n Missile click, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC nigga\n (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n (Canibus)\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n\n (Killah Priest)\n Motherfucker, it's started, four apocalyptic prophets\n Appearing outta floating objects\n Wearing mid-western garments\n Long trenchcoats wit our hands in our pockets\n Slapping all you scary-ass rap artists half retarded\n Swear by our fore fathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side as a carcus\n I'm heartless, regardless if you claim to be gods or goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage\n I see all of y'all as moving targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rocket\n Cosmic vomic spitting, hitting at ya Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Casting meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next rise comet\n And be the first one left unconscious\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like in a colt\n Have your seance inside of a dark synagogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like demigod to put a end to y'all\n Spit bites like dogs and get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorching when we be walking\n Wit the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n (Ras Kass)\n Let's serve it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rocking Bogari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap\n Just modelling, go gold and get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill em out\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I'm ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, western civilization declines\n Catch me hopping off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference\n So when my bitch is a six, she really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hitting jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paperate and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doing my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jacking blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin\n Uckfe uye ichbe echbe a igginebe and free Keith Murray\n (*Translation: Fuck you bitch ass niggas*)\n\n (Canibus)\n I kick a with six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightning flash across the sky, every time I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes, give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six masters of ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a Catholic, I'll nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him 'til he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture with six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat him with two-whips, with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew gets bayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot at you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armoured cars and your Kevlar vests is useless\n I'ma fuck all of you pussies like group-sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For biting off another niggas' shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitching on mad niggas' in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentences knocked off, nigga you wilding\n 'Cause you'll still be in Riker's Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, with a phobia fear of that\n I'ma tape it on a digital video D.A.T., and send a copy to Mirimax\n Leave you exposed, turn on the Fiction or Fact, so everybody you know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fucking ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by a father figure\n Battle who? I bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you with a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Delivering mind-blowing rhymes and poems\n Controlling my tongue when I'm flowing like pilots controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\n Then gallop northwards\n So, take caution, the Four Horsemen will chop your head off with a sword\n Then gallop northwards\n\n Yeah, so just abide by what your ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by\n Just abide by what your ride by\n Cuz we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n (All)\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore\n\n (Kurupt)\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n Wit my motherfucking arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n Throw the jockey off the saddle, now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n *Fading*\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fucking 'round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog\n"},{"id":39246380,"name":"Horsementality","trackName":"Horsementality","artistName":"Killah Priest, Canibus, Kurupt","albumName":"Wu-Banga 2001 (Volume Five)","duration":360.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginnin of the end niggas!\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\nThe alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\nBrought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\nFour swordsmen\nFrom the land of the lost\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\nWavin the four-four!\n\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlastin, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\nThe condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nI'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\nI wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\nPowerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\nMy specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\nUltramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\nMxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by, the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\n\nWhat the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\nAppearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\nLong trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\nSlappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\nSwear by our forefathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side, as a carcass\nI'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\nHittin at y'all Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCastin meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next ras comment\nAnd be the first one left unconscious?\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\nHave your seance inside of a dark synogogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike the Men of God to put a end to y'all\nI sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\nWith the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\nLet's air it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\nAnd get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\nCatch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference;\nSo when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\nUck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\nAnd free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\nYo, yo, yo\nI kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes\nGive out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew get spayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\nI'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\nBut you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\nI'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\nAnd send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\nTurn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n(No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDeliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\nControllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward\nMC's take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\nSo just abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by, what we ride by\nJust abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWith my motherfuckin arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nTo throw the jockey off the saddle\nNow who the fuck really wanna battle?\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality\n artist: Killah Priest, Canibus, Kurupt\n album: Wu-Banga 2001 (Volume Five)\n duration_ms: 359506\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginnin of the end niggas!\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\n The alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\n Brought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\n Four swordsmen\n From the land of the lost\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\n Wavin the four-four!\n\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blastin, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\n The condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n I'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\n I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\n Powerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\n My specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\n Ultramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\n Mxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by, the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n\n What the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\n Appearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\n Long trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\n Slappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\n Swear by our forefathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side, as a carcass\n I'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\n Hittin at y'all Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Castin meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next ras comment\n And be the first one left unconscious?\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\n Have your seance inside of a dark synogogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like the Men of God to put a end to y'all\n I sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\n With the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n Let's air it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\n And get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\n Catch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference;\n So when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\n Uck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\n And free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\n Yo, yo, yo\n I kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes\n Give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew get spayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\n I'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\n But you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\n I'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\n And send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\n Turn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n (No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Deliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\n Controllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward\n MC's take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\n So just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by, what we ride by\n Just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n With my motherfuckin arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n To throw the jockey off the saddle\n Now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog.\n"},{"id":18162593,"name":"Horsementality feat. Kurupt, R","trackName":"Horsementality feat. Kurupt, R","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C. [Before Can-I-bus]","duration":359.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"-- Synced by NoMan --\nThe beginnin of the end niggas!\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\nThe alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFuck y'all niggas talkin' bout cheddar\nBrought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\nFour swordsmen\nFrom the land of the lost\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-I-Bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut, motherfucker\nWavin' the four-four!\n\nI'm headless, nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlastin', they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\nThe condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n'Cause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee, I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nI'm a Horseman, nigga, and that's all I'll be\nSee, I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin' shit\nI wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again, police callin' all cars off and\nPowerful as a motherfuckin' Vulcan\nMy specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\nUltramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\nMxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by, the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC (C...C...C...C), yeah, bitch!\n\nSo just abide by what you ride by\n'Cause we abide, by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\n'Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n\nWhat the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\nAppearin' outta floatin' objects, wearin' Middle Eastern garments\nLong trench coats with our hands in our pockets\nSlappin' all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\nSwear by our forefathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side, as a carcass\nI'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin' targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin'\nHittin' at y'all Vietnam vets\nWit' military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCastin' meteor storms and comets\nNow, who wanna make the next Ras comment?\nAnd be the first one left unconscious?\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\nHave your seance inside of a dark synagogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike the Men of God to put a end to y'all\nI sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorchin' when we be walkin'\nWith the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\nLet's air it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rockin' Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\nAnd get big-headed like they swallowin' colleges\nI spit empty grave sites, rap stars fill 'em up\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\nCatch me hoppin' off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference;\nSo when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hittin' jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit' a paper weight and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doin' my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happenin'? From P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jackin' blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\nUck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a igga-nay play\nAnd free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\nYo, yo, yo\nI kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightnin' flash across the sky every time I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes\nGive out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat him with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew get spayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\nI'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor bitin' off another nigga's shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitchin' on mad niggas in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentence knocked off (Nah, nigga) you wildin'\nBut you still be in Riker's Island gettin' forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, wit' a phobia fear of that\nI'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\nAnd send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\nTurn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin' ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n(No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you wit' a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDeliverin' mind blowin' rhymes and poems\nControllin' my tongue when I'm flowin' like pilot controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit' a sword then\nGallop Northward\nMC's take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit' a sword then\nGallop Northward, motherfuckers; yeah\n\nSo just abide by, what your ride by\n'Cause we abide by, what we ride by\nJust abide by, what your ride by\n'Cause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin' the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin' the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin' the four-four! Ayo, Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\nYeah, nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWith my motherfuckin' arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nThrow the jockey off the saddle\nNow, who the fuck really wanna battle?\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fuckin' round wit' the Dogg\nI'm a hog\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.05] -- Synced by NoMan --\n[00:02.36] The beginnin of the end niggas!\n[00:03.95] Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\n[00:06.31] The alpha and the omega\n[00:07.75] The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n[00:09.51] Fuck y'all niggas talkin' bout cheddar\n[00:11.55] Brought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\n[00:14.83] Four swordsmen\n[00:16.23] From the land of the lost\n[00:17.27] Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-I-Bus\n[00:19.87] Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut, motherfucker\n[00:23.39] Wavin' the four-four!\n\n[00:24.91] I'm headless, nigga, but I packs a big piece\n[00:27.28] Blastin', they let assassins loose on the street\n[00:29.55] Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n[00:32.19] I toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\n[00:34.76] The condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n[00:37.23] All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n[00:40.03] I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n[00:42.07] Next a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n[00:44.99] Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n[00:47.15] 'Cause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n[00:49.52] See, I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n[00:52.04] I'm a Horseman, nigga, and that's all I'll be\n[00:54.44] See, I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin' shit\n[00:57.64] I wanna see the streets dark again\n[00:59.43] Let the heaters spark again, police callin' all cars off and\n[01:02.71] Powerful as a motherfuckin' Vulcan\n[01:04.75] My specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\n[01:07.62] Ultramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\n[01:09.71] Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n[01:12.26] Dirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\n[01:14.50] Mxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\n[01:16.74] Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n[01:19.54] For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n[01:21.55] Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n[01:24.47] And we abide by, the code of the streets\n[01:26.82] The makings of a real MC (C...C...C...C), yeah, bitch!\n\n[01:31.26] So just abide by what you ride by\n[01:34.26] 'Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n[01:36.63] Just abide by what you ride by\n[01:39.14] 'Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n\n[01:41.63] What the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\n[01:44.19] Appearin' outta floatin' objects, wearin' Middle Eastern garments\n[01:46.94] Long trench coats with our hands in our pockets\n[01:48.90] Slappin' all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\n[01:51.75] Swear by our forefathers\n[01:53.18] Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n[01:55.78] Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n[01:57.86] Bring you out the other side, as a carcass\n[02:00.10] I'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\n[02:02.90] To me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin' targets\n[02:05.98] And my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin'\n[02:09.50] Hittin' at y'all Vietnam vets\n[02:11.51] Wit' military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n[02:13.74] Castin' meteor storms and comets\n[02:16.11] Now, who wanna make the next Ras comment?\n[02:18.15] And be the first one left unconscious?\n[02:20.23] After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n[02:22.22] Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n[02:24.59] And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n[02:27.43] Satanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\n[02:30.03] Have your seance inside of a dark synagogue\n[02:32.50] We was lyrically sent to y'all\n[02:33.98] Like the Men of God to put a end to y'all\n[02:36.02] I sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\n[02:38.35] Horsemen, we be scorchin' when we be walkin'\n[02:40.94] With the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n[02:43.74] Let's air it out like the breeze\n[02:45.07] Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n[02:46.79] And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n[02:49.95] Streets is Lebanese\n[02:51.35] Be rockin' Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\n[02:54.34] Most of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\n[02:57.18] And get big-headed like they swallowin' colleges\n[02:59.50] I spit empty grave sites, rap stars fill 'em up\n[03:01.74] You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n[03:04.23] Me? I ain't even in my prime\n[03:06.15] When I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\n[03:09.14] Catch me hoppin' off the A train in a New York state of mind\n[03:11.74] But I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\n[03:13.99] That's a three-hour difference;\n[03:15.51] So when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\n[03:17.59] In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n[03:19.14] Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin' jugular veins\n[03:21.38] Crack open your skull wit' a paper weight and suck out your brains\n[03:24.15] Kiddo, I be doin' my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n[03:26.75] And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n[03:29.08] So what's happenin'? From P.I. to '99 Madden\n[03:31.63] Since police be jackin' blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\n[03:34.47] Uck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a igga-nay play\n[03:37.63] And free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\n[03:39.74] Yo, yo, yo\n[03:41.39] I kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n[03:43.95] Make lightnin' flash across the sky every time I curse\n[03:46.51] Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes\n[03:48.23] Give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n[03:50.47] To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\n[03:54.22] Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n[03:56.67] If he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\n[03:58.94] Then I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\n[04:00.90] Then perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n[04:03.98] Beat him with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n[04:06.99] Your whole crew get spayed and neutered\n[04:08.87] As soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\n[04:11.59] Your armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\n[04:14.19] I'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\n[04:16.35] You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n[04:19.02] For bitin' off another nigga's shit, you bitch\n[04:21.38] You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n[04:23.75] Snitchin' on mad niggas in a soundproof court\n[04:26.35] To get some of your sentence knocked off (Nah, nigga) you wildin'\n[04:28.92] But you still be in Riker's Island gettin' forced to toss salads\n[04:31.79] You scared of that, wit' a phobia fear of that\n[04:34.06] I'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\n[04:36.42] And send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\n[04:38.95] Turn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\n[04:41.42] You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin' ass nigga\n[04:44.19] That got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n[04:46.52] (No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\n[04:49.15] Autograph you wit' a bullet wound for a tattoo\n[04:51.51] Deliverin' mind blowin' rhymes and poems\n[04:53.74] Controllin' my tongue when I'm flowin' like pilot controlled Boeings\n[04:56.44] When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n[04:59.00] I don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\n[05:01.43] So, take caution\n[05:02.86] The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit' a sword then\n[05:05.27] Gallop Northward\n[05:06.31] MC's take caution\n[05:07.67] The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit' a sword then\n[05:10.19] Gallop Northward, motherfuckers; yeah\n\n[05:11.73] So just abide by, what your ride by\n[05:13.52] 'Cause we abide by, what we ride by\n[05:15.96] Just abide by, what your ride by\n[05:18.45] 'Cause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n[05:22.56] Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n[05:27.49] Wavin' the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n[05:32.28] Wavin' the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n[05:37.28] Wavin' the four-four! Ayo, Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\n[05:41.08] Yeah, nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n[05:42.48] With my motherfuckin' arms crossed\n[05:44.41] I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n[05:46.29] Took over the whole race course\n[05:47.68] Throw the jockey off the saddle\n[05:49.48] Now, who the fuck really wanna battle?\n[05:51.32] Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n[05:53.72] Let it whistle, they fall fuckin' round wit' the Dogg\n[05:56.33] I'm a hog\n[05:59.10] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality feat. Kurupt, R\n artist: Canibus\n album: 2000 B.C. [Before Can-I-bus]\n duration_ms: 359000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: -- Synced by NoMan --\n start_ms: 50\n end_ms: 2360\n- text: The beginnin of the end niggas!\n start_ms: 2360\n end_ms: 3950\n- text: Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\n start_ms: 3950\n end_ms: 6310\n- text: The alpha and the omega\n start_ms: 6310\n end_ms: 7750\n- text: The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n start_ms: 7750\n end_ms: 9510\n- text: Fuck y'all niggas talkin' bout cheddar\n start_ms: 9510\n end_ms: 11550\n- text: Brought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\n start_ms: 11550\n end_ms: 14830\n- text: Four swordsmen\n start_ms: 14830\n end_ms: 16230\n- text: From the land of the lost\n start_ms: 16230\n end_ms: 17270\n- text: Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-I-Bus\n start_ms: 17270\n end_ms: 19870\n- text: Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut, motherfucker\n start_ms: 19870\n end_ms: 23390\n- text: Wavin' the four-four!\n start_ms: 23390\n end_ms: 24910\n- text: I'm headless, nigga, but I packs a big piece\n start_ms: 24910\n end_ms: 27280\n- text: Blastin', they let assassins loose on the street\n start_ms: 27280\n end_ms: 29550\n- text: Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n start_ms: 29550\n end_ms: 32190\n- text: I toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\n start_ms: 32190\n end_ms: 34760\n- text: The condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n start_ms: 34760\n end_ms: 37230\n- text: All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n start_ms: 37230\n end_ms: 40030\n- text: I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n start_ms: 40030\n end_ms: 42070\n- text: Next a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n start_ms: 42070\n end_ms: 44990\n- text: Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n start_ms: 44990\n end_ms: 47150\n- text: '''Cause we don''t give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt'\n start_ms: 47150\n end_ms: 49520\n- text: See, I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n start_ms: 49520\n end_ms: 52040\n- text: I'm a Horseman, nigga, and that's all I'll be\n start_ms: 52040\n end_ms: 54440\n- text: See, I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin' shit\n start_ms: 54440\n end_ms: 57640\n- text: I wanna see the streets dark again\n start_ms: 57640\n end_ms: 59430\n- text: Let the heaters spark again, police callin' all cars off and\n start_ms: 59430\n end_ms: 62710\n- text: Powerful as a motherfuckin' Vulcan\n start_ms: 62710\n end_ms: 64750\n- text: My specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\n start_ms: 64750\n end_ms: 67620\n- text: Ultramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\n start_ms: 67620\n end_ms: 69710\n- text: Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n start_ms: 69710\n end_ms: 72260\n- text: Dirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\n start_ms: 72260\n end_ms: 74500\n- text: Mxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\n start_ms: 74500\n end_ms: 76740\n- text: Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n start_ms: 76740\n end_ms: 79540\n- text: For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n start_ms: 79540\n end_ms: 81550\n- text: Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n start_ms: 81550\n end_ms: 84470\n- text: And we abide by, the code of the streets\n start_ms: 84470\n end_ms: 86820\n- text: The makings of a real MC (C...C...C...C), yeah, bitch!\n start_ms: 86820\n end_ms: 91260\n- text: So just abide by what you ride by\n start_ms: 91260\n end_ms: 94260\n- text: '''Cause we abide, by what we ride by'\n start_ms: 94260\n end_ms: 96630\n- text: Just abide by what you ride by\n start_ms: 96630\n end_ms: 99140\n- text: '''Cause we abide, by what we ride by'\n start_ms: 99140\n end_ms: 101630\n- text: What the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\n start_ms: 101630\n end_ms: 104190\n- text: Appearin' outta floatin' objects, wearin' Middle Eastern garments\n start_ms: 104190\n end_ms: 106940\n- text: Long trench coats with our hands in our pockets\n start_ms: 106940\n end_ms: 108900\n- text: Slappin' all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\n start_ms: 108900\n end_ms: 111750\n- text: Swear by our forefathers\n start_ms: 111750\n end_ms: 113180\n- text: Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n start_ms: 113180\n end_ms: 115780\n- text: Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n start_ms: 115780\n end_ms: 117860\n- text: Bring you out the other side, as a carcass\n start_ms: 117860\n end_ms: 120100\n- text: I'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\n start_ms: 120100\n end_ms: 122900\n- text: To me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin' targets\n start_ms: 122900\n end_ms: 125980\n- text: And my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin'\n start_ms: 125980\n end_ms: 129500\n- text: Hittin' at y'all Vietnam vets\n start_ms: 129500\n end_ms: 131510\n- text: Wit' military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n start_ms: 131510\n end_ms: 133740\n- text: Castin' meteor storms and comets\n start_ms: 133740\n end_ms: 136110\n- text: Now, who wanna make the next Ras comment?\n start_ms: 136110\n end_ms: 138150\n- text: And be the first one left unconscious?\n start_ms: 138150\n end_ms: 140230\n- text: After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n start_ms: 140230\n end_ms: 142220\n- text: Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n start_ms: 142220\n end_ms: 144590\n- text: And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n start_ms: 144590\n end_ms: 147430\n- text: Satanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\n start_ms: 147430\n end_ms: 150030\n- text: Have your seance inside of a dark synagogue\n start_ms: 150030\n end_ms: 152500\n- text: We was lyrically sent to y'all\n start_ms: 152500\n end_ms: 153980\n- text: Like the Men of God to put a end to y'all\n start_ms: 153980\n end_ms: 156020\n- text: I sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\n start_ms: 156020\n end_ms: 158350\n- text: Horsemen, we be scorchin' when we be walkin'\n start_ms: 158350\n end_ms: 160940\n- text: With the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n start_ms: 160940\n end_ms: 163740\n- text: Let's air it out like the breeze\n start_ms: 163740\n end_ms: 165070\n- text: Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n start_ms: 165070\n end_ms: 166790\n- text: And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n start_ms: 166790\n end_ms: 169950\n- text: Streets is Lebanese\n start_ms: 169950\n end_ms: 171350\n- text: Be rockin' Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\n start_ms: 171350\n end_ms: 174340\n- text: Most of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\n start_ms: 174340\n end_ms: 177180\n- text: And get big-headed like they swallowin' colleges\n start_ms: 177180\n end_ms: 179500\n- text: I spit empty grave sites, rap stars fill 'em up\n start_ms: 179500\n end_ms: 181740\n- text: You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n start_ms: 181740\n end_ms: 184230\n- text: Me? I ain't even in my prime\n start_ms: 184230\n end_ms: 186150\n- text: When I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\n start_ms: 186150\n end_ms: 189140\n- text: Catch me hoppin' off the A train in a New York state of mind\n start_ms: 189140\n end_ms: 191740\n- text: But I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\n start_ms: 191740\n end_ms: 193990\n- text: That's a three-hour difference;\n start_ms: 193990\n end_ms: 195510\n- text: So when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\n start_ms: 195510\n end_ms: 197590\n- text: In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n start_ms: 197590\n end_ms: 199140\n- text: Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin' jugular veins\n start_ms: 199140\n end_ms: 201380\n- text: Crack open your skull wit' a paper weight and suck out your brains\n start_ms: 201380\n end_ms: 204150\n- text: Kiddo, I be doin' my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n start_ms: 204150\n end_ms: 206750\n- text: And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n start_ms: 206750\n end_ms: 209080\n- text: So what's happenin'? From P.I. to '99 Madden\n start_ms: 209080\n end_ms: 211630\n- text: 'Since police be jackin'' blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:'\n start_ms: 211630\n end_ms: 214470\n- text: Uck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a igga-nay play\n start_ms: 214470\n end_ms: 217630\n- text: And free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n start_ms: 217630\n end_ms: 219740\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n start_ms: 219740\n end_ms: 221390\n- text: I kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n start_ms: 221390\n end_ms: 223950\n- text: Make lightnin' flash across the sky every time I curse\n start_ms: 223950\n end_ms: 226510\n- text: Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes\n start_ms: 226510\n end_ms: 228230\n- text: Give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n start_ms: 228230\n end_ms: 230470\n- text: To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\n start_ms: 230470\n end_ms: 234220\n- text: Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n start_ms: 234220\n end_ms: 236670\n- text: If he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\n start_ms: 236670\n end_ms: 238940\n- text: Then I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\n start_ms: 238940\n end_ms: 240900\n- text: Then perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n start_ms: 240900\n end_ms: 243980\n- text: Beat him with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n start_ms: 243980\n end_ms: 246990\n- text: Your whole crew get spayed and neutered\n start_ms: 246990\n end_ms: 248870\n- text: As soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\n start_ms: 248870\n end_ms: 251590\n- text: Your armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\n start_ms: 251590\n end_ms: 254190\n- text: I'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\n start_ms: 254190\n end_ms: 256350\n- text: You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n start_ms: 256350\n end_ms: 259020\n- text: For bitin' off another nigga's shit, you bitch\n start_ms: 259020\n end_ms: 261380\n- text: You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n start_ms: 261380\n end_ms: 263750\n- text: Snitchin' on mad niggas in a soundproof court\n start_ms: 263750\n end_ms: 266350\n- text: To get some of your sentence knocked off (Nah, nigga) you wildin'\n start_ms: 266350\n end_ms: 268920\n- text: But you still be in Riker's Island gettin' forced to toss salads\n start_ms: 268920\n end_ms: 271790\n- text: You scared of that, wit' a phobia fear of that\n start_ms: 271790\n end_ms: 274060\n- text: I'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\n start_ms: 274060\n end_ms: 276420\n- text: And send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\n start_ms: 276420\n end_ms: 278950\n- text: Turn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\n start_ms: 278950\n end_ms: 281420\n- text: You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin' ass nigga\n start_ms: 281420\n end_ms: 284190\n- text: That got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n start_ms: 284190\n end_ms: 286520\n- text: (No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\n start_ms: 286520\n end_ms: 289150\n- text: Autograph you wit' a bullet wound for a tattoo\n start_ms: 289150\n end_ms: 291510\n- text: Deliverin' mind blowin' rhymes and poems\n start_ms: 291510\n end_ms: 293740\n- text: Controllin' my tongue when I'm flowin' like pilot controlled Boeings\n start_ms: 293740\n end_ms: 296440\n- text: When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n start_ms: 296440\n end_ms: 299000\n- text: I don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\n start_ms: 299000\n end_ms: 301430\n- text: So, take caution\n start_ms: 301430\n end_ms: 302860\n- text: The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit' a sword then\n start_ms: 302860\n end_ms: 305270\n- text: Gallop Northward\n start_ms: 305270\n end_ms: 306310\n- text: MC's take caution\n start_ms: 306310\n end_ms: 307670\n- text: The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit' a sword then\n start_ms: 307670\n end_ms: 310190\n- text: Gallop Northward, motherfuckers; yeah\n start_ms: 310190\n end_ms: 311730\n- text: So just abide by, what your ride by\n start_ms: 311730\n end_ms: 313520\n- text: '''Cause we abide by, what we ride by'\n start_ms: 313520\n end_ms: 315960\n- text: Just abide by, what your ride by\n start_ms: 315960\n end_ms: 318450\n- text: '''Cause we abide by what we ride by, HA!'\n start_ms: 318450\n end_ms: 322560\n- text: Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n start_ms: 322560\n end_ms: 327490\n- text: Wavin' the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n start_ms: 327490\n end_ms: 332280\n- text: Wavin' the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n start_ms: 332280\n end_ms: 337280\n- text: Wavin' the four-four! Ayo, Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n start_ms: 337280\n end_ms: 341080\n- text: Yeah, nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n start_ms: 341080\n end_ms: 342480\n- text: With my motherfuckin' arms crossed\n start_ms: 342480\n end_ms: 344410\n- text: I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n start_ms: 344410\n end_ms: 346290\n- text: Took over the whole race course\n start_ms: 346290\n end_ms: 347680\n- text: Throw the jockey off the saddle\n start_ms: 347680\n end_ms: 349480\n- text: Now, who the fuck really wanna battle?\n start_ms: 349480\n end_ms: 351320\n- text: Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n start_ms: 351320\n end_ms: 353720\n- text: Let it whistle, they fall fuckin' round wit' the Dogg\n start_ms: 353720\n end_ms: 356330\n- text: I'm a hog\n start_ms: 356330\n end_ms: 359100\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 359100\nplain: |\n -- Synced by NoMan --\n The beginnin of the end niggas!\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\n The alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n Fuck y'all niggas talkin' bout cheddar\n Brought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\n Four swordsmen\n From the land of the lost\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-I-Bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut, motherfucker\n Wavin' the four-four!\n\n I'm headless, nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blastin', they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\n The condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n 'Cause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See, I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n I'm a Horseman, nigga, and that's all I'll be\n See, I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin' shit\n I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again, police callin' all cars off and\n Powerful as a motherfuckin' Vulcan\n My specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\n Ultramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\n Mxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by, the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC (C...C...C...C), yeah, bitch!\n\n So just abide by what you ride by\n 'Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n 'Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n\n What the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\n Appearin' outta floatin' objects, wearin' Middle Eastern garments\n Long trench coats with our hands in our pockets\n Slappin' all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\n Swear by our forefathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side, as a carcass\n I'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin' targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin'\n Hittin' at y'all Vietnam vets\n Wit' military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Castin' meteor storms and comets\n Now, who wanna make the next Ras comment?\n And be the first one left unconscious?\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\n Have your seance inside of a dark synagogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like the Men of God to put a end to y'all\n I sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorchin' when we be walkin'\n With the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n Let's air it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rockin' Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\n And get big-headed like they swallowin' colleges\n I spit empty grave sites, rap stars fill 'em up\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\n Catch me hoppin' off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference;\n So when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin' jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit' a paper weight and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doin' my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happenin'? From P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jackin' blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\n Uck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a igga-nay play\n And free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\n Yo, yo, yo\n I kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightnin' flash across the sky every time I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes\n Give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat him with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew get spayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\n I'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For bitin' off another nigga's shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitchin' on mad niggas in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentence knocked off (Nah, nigga) you wildin'\n But you still be in Riker's Island gettin' forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, wit' a phobia fear of that\n I'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\n And send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\n Turn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin' ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n (No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you wit' a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Deliverin' mind blowin' rhymes and poems\n Controllin' my tongue when I'm flowin' like pilot controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a fuck if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit' a sword then\n Gallop Northward\n MC's take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit' a sword then\n Gallop Northward, motherfuckers; yeah\n\n So just abide by, what your ride by\n 'Cause we abide by, what we ride by\n Just abide by, what your ride by\n 'Cause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin' the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin' the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin' the four-four! Ayo, Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\n Yeah, nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n With my motherfuckin' arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n Throw the jockey off the saddle\n Now, who the fuck really wanna battle?\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fuckin' round wit' the Dogg\n I'm a hog\n"},{"id":8310247,"name":"Horsementality","trackName":"Horsementality","artistName":"Canibus, Rass Kass, Killah Priest & Kurupt","albumName":"2000 B.C. (Explicit Version)","duration":360.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginnin of the end niggas!\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\nThe alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\nBrought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\nFour swordsmen\nFrom the land of the lost\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\nWavin the four-four!\n\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlastin, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\nThe condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nI'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\nI wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\nPowerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\nMy specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\nUltramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\nMxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by, the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\n\nWhat the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\nAppearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\nLong trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\nSlappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\nSwear by our forefathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side, as a carcass\nI'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\nHittin at y'all Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCastin meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next ras comment\nAnd be the first one left unconscious?\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\nHave your seance inside of a dark synogogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike the Men of God to put a end to y'all\nI sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\nWith the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\nLet's air it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\nAnd get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\nCatch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference;\nSo when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\nUck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\nAnd free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\nYo, yo, yo\nI kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes\nGive out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew get spayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\nI'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\nBut you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\nI'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\nAnd send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\nTurn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n(No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDeliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\nControllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward\nMC's take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\nSo just abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by, what we ride by\nJust abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWith my motherfuckin arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nTo throw the jockey off the saddle\nNow who the fuck really wanna battle?\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality\n artist: Canibus, Rass Kass, Killah Priest & Kurupt\n album: 2000 B.C. (Explicit Version)\n duration_ms: 360000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginnin of the end niggas!\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\n The alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\n Brought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\n Four swordsmen\n From the land of the lost\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\n Wavin the four-four!\n\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blastin, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\n The condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n I'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\n I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\n Powerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\n My specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\n Ultramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\n Mxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by, the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n\n What the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\n Appearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\n Long trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\n Slappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\n Swear by our forefathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side, as a carcass\n I'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\n Hittin at y'all Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Castin meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next ras comment\n And be the first one left unconscious?\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\n Have your seance inside of a dark synogogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like the Men of God to put a end to y'all\n I sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\n With the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n Let's air it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\n And get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\n Catch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference;\n So when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\n Uck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\n And free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\n Yo, yo, yo\n I kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes\n Give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew get spayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\n I'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\n But you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\n I'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\n And send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\n Turn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n (No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Deliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\n Controllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward\n MC's take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\n So just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by, what we ride by\n Just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n With my motherfuckin arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n To throw the jockey off the saddle\n Now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog.\n"},{"id":39473278,"name":"Horsementality","trackName":"Horsementality","artistName":"Canibus/Kurupt/Killah Priest/Rass Kass","albumName":"2000 B.C.","duration":360.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginnin of the end niggas!\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\nThe alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\nBrought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\nFour swordsmen\nFrom the land of the lost\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\nWavin the four-four!\n\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlastin, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\nThe condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nI'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\nI wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\nPowerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\nMy specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\nUltramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\nMxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by, the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\n\nWhat the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\nAppearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\nLong trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\nSlappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\nSwear by our forefathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side, as a carcass\nI'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\nHittin at y'all Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCastin meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next ras comment\nAnd be the first one left unconscious?\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\nHave your seance inside of a dark synogogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike the Men of God to put a end to y'all\nI sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\nWith the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\nLet's air it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\nAnd get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\nCatch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference;\nSo when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\nUck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\nAnd free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\nYo, yo, yo\nI kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes\nGive out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew get spayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\nI'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\nBut you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\nI'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\nAnd send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\nTurn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n(No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDeliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\nControllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward\nMC's take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\nSo just abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by, what we ride by\nJust abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWith my motherfuckin arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nTo throw the jockey off the saddle\nNow who the fuck really wanna battle?\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality\n artist: Canibus/Kurupt/Killah Priest/Rass Kass\n album: 2000 B.C.\n duration_ms: 359506\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginnin of the end niggas!\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\n The alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\n Brought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\n Four swordsmen\n From the land of the lost\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\n Wavin the four-four!\n\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blastin, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\n The condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n I'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\n I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\n Powerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\n My specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\n Ultramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\n Mxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by, the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n\n What the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\n Appearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\n Long trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\n Slappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\n Swear by our forefathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side, as a carcass\n I'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\n Hittin at y'all Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Castin meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next ras comment\n And be the first one left unconscious?\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\n Have your seance inside of a dark synogogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like the Men of God to put a end to y'all\n I sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\n With the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n Let's air it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\n And get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\n Catch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference;\n So when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\n Uck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\n And free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\n Yo, yo, yo\n I kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes\n Give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew get spayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\n I'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\n But you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\n I'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\n And send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\n Turn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n (No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Deliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\n Controllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward\n MC's take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\n So just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by, what we ride by\n Just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n With my motherfuckin arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n To throw the jockey off the saddle\n Now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog.\n"},{"id":8310248,"name":"Horsementality","trackName":"Horsementality","artistName":"Canibus feat. Ras Kass, Killah Priest & Kurupt","albumName":"2000 B.C.","duration":360.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginnin of the end niggas!\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\nThe alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\nBrought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\nFour swordsmen\nFrom the land of the lost\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\nWavin the four-four!\n\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlastin, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\nThe condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nI'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\nI wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\nPowerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\nMy specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\nUltramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\nMxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by, the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\n\nWhat the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\nAppearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\nLong trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\nSlappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\nSwear by our forefathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side, as a carcass\nI'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\nHittin at y'all Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCastin meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next ras comment\nAnd be the first one left unconscious?\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\nHave your seance inside of a dark synogogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike the Men of God to put a end to y'all\nI sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\nWith the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\nLet's air it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\nAnd get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\nCatch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference;\nSo when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\nUck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\nAnd free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\nYo, yo, yo\nI kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes\nGive out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew get spayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\nI'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\nBut you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\nI'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\nAnd send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\nTurn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n(No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDeliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\nControllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward\nMC's take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\nSo just abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by, what we ride by\nJust abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWith my motherfuckin arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nTo throw the jockey off the saddle\nNow who the fuck really wanna battle?\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality\n artist: Canibus feat. Ras Kass, Killah Priest & Kurupt\n album: 2000 B.C.\n duration_ms: 360000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginnin of the end niggas!\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\n The alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\n Brought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\n Four swordsmen\n From the land of the lost\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\n Wavin the four-four!\n\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blastin, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\n The condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n I'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\n I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\n Powerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\n My specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\n Ultramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\n Mxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by, the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n\n What the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\n Appearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\n Long trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\n Slappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\n Swear by our forefathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side, as a carcass\n I'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\n Hittin at y'all Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Castin meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next ras comment\n And be the first one left unconscious?\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\n Have your seance inside of a dark synogogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like the Men of God to put a end to y'all\n I sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\n With the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n Let's air it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\n And get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\n Catch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference;\n So when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\n Uck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\n And free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\n Yo, yo, yo\n I kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes\n Give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew get spayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\n I'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\n But you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\n I'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\n And send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\n Turn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n (No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Deliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\n Controllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward\n MC's take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\n So just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by, what we ride by\n Just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n With my motherfuckin arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n To throw the jockey off the saddle\n Now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog.\n"},{"id":28651381,"name":"Horsementality","trackName":"Horsementality","artistName":"Canibus feat. Ras Kass, Killah Priest & Kurupt","albumName":"2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)","duration":359.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginnin of the end niggas!\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\nThe alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\nBrought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\nFour swordsmen\nFrom the land of the lost\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\nWavin the four-four!\n\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlastin, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\nThe condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nI'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\nI wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\nPowerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\nMy specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\nUltramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\nMxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by, the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\n\nWhat the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\nAppearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\nLong trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\nSlappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\nSwear by our forefathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side, as a carcass\nI'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\nHittin at y'all Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCastin meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next ras comment\nAnd be the first one left unconscious?\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\nHave your seance inside of a dark synogogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike the Men of God to put a end to y'all\nI sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\nWith the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\nLet's air it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\nAnd get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\nCatch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference;\nSo when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\nUck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\nAnd free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\nYo, yo, yo\nI kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes\nGive out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew get spayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\nI'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\nBut you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\nI'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\nAnd send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\nTurn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n(No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDeliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\nControllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward\nMC's take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\nSo just abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by, what we ride by\nJust abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWith my motherfuckin arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nTo throw the jockey off the saddle\nNow who the fuck really wanna battle?\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality\n artist: Canibus feat. Ras Kass, Killah Priest & Kurupt\n album: 2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)\n duration_ms: 359000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginnin of the end niggas!\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\n The alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\n Brought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\n Four swordsmen\n From the land of the lost\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\n Wavin the four-four!\n\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blastin, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\n The condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n I'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\n I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\n Powerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\n My specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\n Ultramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\n Mxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by, the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n\n What the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\n Appearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\n Long trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\n Slappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\n Swear by our forefathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side, as a carcass\n I'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\n Hittin at y'all Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Castin meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next ras comment\n And be the first one left unconscious?\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\n Have your seance inside of a dark synogogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like the Men of God to put a end to y'all\n I sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\n With the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n Let's air it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\n And get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\n Catch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference;\n So when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\n Uck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\n And free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\n Yo, yo, yo\n I kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes\n Give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew get spayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\n I'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\n But you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\n I'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\n And send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\n Turn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n (No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Deliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\n Controllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward\n MC's take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\n So just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by, what we ride by\n Just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n With my motherfuckin arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n To throw the jockey off the saddle\n Now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog.\n"},{"id":17983241,"name":"Horsementality feat. Ras Kass, Killah Priest, Kurupt","trackName":"Horsementality feat. Ras Kass, Killah Priest, Kurupt","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)","duration":359.506667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginnin of the end niggas!\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\nThe alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\nBrought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\nFour swordsmen\nFrom the land of the lost\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\nWavin the four-four!\n\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlastin, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\nThe condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nI'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\nI wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\nPowerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\nMy specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\nUltramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\nMxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by, the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\n\nWhat the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\nAppearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\nLong trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\nSlappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\nSwear by our forefathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side, as a carcass\nI'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\nHittin at y'all Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCastin meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next ras comment\nAnd be the first one left unconscious?\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\nHave your seance inside of a dark synogogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike the Men of God to put a end to y'all\nI sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\nWith the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\nLet's air it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\nAnd get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\nCatch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference;\nSo when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\nUck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\nAnd free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\nYo, yo, yo\nI kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes\nGive out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew get spayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\nI'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\nBut you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\nI'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\nAnd send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\nTurn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n(No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDeliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\nControllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward\nMC's take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\nSo just abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by, what we ride by\nJust abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWith my motherfuckin arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nTo throw the jockey off the saddle\nNow who the fuck really wanna battle?\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality feat. Ras Kass, Killah Priest, Kurupt\n artist: Canibus\n album: 2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)\n duration_ms: 359507\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginnin of the end niggas!\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\n The alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\n Brought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\n Four swordsmen\n From the land of the lost\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\n Wavin the four-four!\n\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blastin, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\n The condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n I'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\n I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\n Powerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\n My specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\n Ultramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\n Mxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by, the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n\n What the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\n Appearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\n Long trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\n Slappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\n Swear by our forefathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side, as a carcass\n I'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\n Hittin at y'all Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Castin meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next ras comment\n And be the first one left unconscious?\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\n Have your seance inside of a dark synogogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like the Men of God to put a end to y'all\n I sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\n With the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n Let's air it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\n And get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\n Catch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference;\n So when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\n Uck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\n And free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\n Yo, yo, yo\n I kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes\n Give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew get spayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\n I'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\n But you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\n I'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\n And send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\n Turn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n (No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Deliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\n Controllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward\n MC's take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\n So just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by, what we ride by\n Just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n With my motherfuckin arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n To throw the jockey off the saddle\n Now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog.\n"},{"id":14570706,"name":"Horsementality Ft. Ras Kass, Killah Priest & Kurupt","trackName":"Horsementality Ft. Ras Kass, Killah Priest & Kurupt","artistName":"Canibus","albumName":"2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)","duration":359.523265,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The beginnin of the end niggas!\nYeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\nThe alpha and the omega\nThe Canibus'll make your eyes redder\nFUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\nBrought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\nFour swordsmen\nFrom the land of the lost\nRas Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\nThrow your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\nWavin the four-four!\n\nI'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\nBlastin, they let assassins loose on the street\nMurderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\nI toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\nThe condos is supposed to be flip bricks\nAll thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\nI'll throw some fucked up kicks on\nNext is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\nBeat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\nCause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\nSee I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\nI'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\nSee I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\nI wanna see the streets dark again\nLet the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\nPowerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\nMy specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\nUltramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\nFuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\nDirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\nMxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\nKill women and kill men, and kidnap children\nFor vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\nSlice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\nAnd we abide by, the code of the streets\nThe makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\nSo just abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\nJust abide by what you ride by\nCause we abide, by what we ride by\n\nWhat the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\nAppearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\nLong trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\nSlappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\nSwear by our forefathers\nAnything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\nThen I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\nBring you out the other side, as a carcass\nI'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\nTo me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\nAnd my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\nHittin at y'all Vietnam vets\nWit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\nCastin meteor storms and comets\nNow who wanna make the next ras comment\nAnd be the first one left unconscious?\nAfter I squeeze your head like the Charmin\nFuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\nAnd squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\nSatanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\nHave your seance inside of a dark synogogue\nWe was lyrically sent to y'all\nLike the Men of God to put a end to y'all\nI sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\nHorsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\nWith the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\nLet's air it out like the breeze\nNow watch me do one-armed handstands\nAnd hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\nStreets is Lebanese\nBe rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\nMost of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\nAnd get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\nI spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\nYou what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\nMe? I ain't even in my prime\nWhen I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\nCatch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\nBut I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\nThat's a three-hour difference;\nSo when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\nIn seven days, she'd still be a dime\nCall me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\nCrack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\nKiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\nAnd the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\nSo what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\nSince police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\nUck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\nAnd free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\nYo, yo, yo\nI kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\nMake lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\nSix-hundred and sixty-six flashes\nGive out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\nTo the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\nPut a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\nIf he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\nThen I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\nThen perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\nBeat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\nYour whole crew get spayed and neutered\nAs soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\nYour armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\nI'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\nYou get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\nFor bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\nYou got caught, now you on the other side of the law\nSnitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\nTo get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\nBut you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\nYou scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\nI'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\nAnd send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\nTurn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\nYou a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\nThat got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n(No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\nAutograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\nDeliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\nControllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\nWhen I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\nI don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\nSo, take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward\nMC's take caution\nThe Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\nGallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\nSo just abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by, what we ride by\nJust abide by, what your ride by\nCause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\nWavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\nYeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\nWith my motherfuckin arms crossed\nI transform from a Dogg to a Horse\nTook over the whole race course\nTo throw the jockey off the saddle\nNow who the fuck really wanna battle?\nGot me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\nLet it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\nI'm a hog.","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Horsementality Ft. Ras Kass, Killah Priest & Kurupt\n artist: Canibus\n album: 2000 B.C. (Before Can-I-Bus)\n duration_ms: 359523\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n The beginnin of the end niggas!\n Yeah, we gon' rock this shit forever\n The alpha and the omega\n The Canibus'll make your eyes redder\n FUCK y'all niggas talkin bout cheddar\n Brought to you by your millennium group, The Horsemen\n Four swordsmen\n From the land of the lost\n Ras Kass, Killah Priest and Kurupt wit Can-i-bus\n Throw your 4's up or get your vocal cords cut MOTHERFUCKER\n Wavin the four-four!\n\n I'm headless nigga, but I packs a big piece\n Blastin, they let assassins loose on the street\n Murderous notes I wrote, I lacerate throats\n I toss fire at niggas; motherfuck the six\n The condos is supposed to be flip bricks\n All thirty-nine of your bitches, pretty-ass bitch nigga\n I'll throw some fucked up kicks on\n Next is a small tank top, the spot, shot it up\n Beat you in your face wit a rope knotted up\n Cause we don't give a fuck, the Headless Horseman Kurupt\n See I'm off the wall nigga, Horsementality\n I'm a Horseman nigga and that's all I'll be\n See I'm tired of the sparkly shit, niggas talkin shit\n I wanna see the streets dark again\n Let the heaters spark again, police callin all cars off\n Powerful as a motherfuckin Vulcan\n My specialty is - poetically lyrically energetically\n Ultramagnetically Dogg Pound pedigree\n Fuck the shiny shit, fuck a bitch, only grimy shit\n Dirty shit, holocaust in thirty-thirty shit\n Mxyzptlk, assassin Sicilian\n Kill women and kill men, and kidnap children\n For vengeance in the name of the Horsemen\n Slice your Achilles tendon, the Headless Horseman\n And we abide by, the code of the streets\n The makings of a real MC (C... C... C... C) yeah bitch!\n\n So just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n Just abide by what you ride by\n Cause we abide, by what we ride by\n\n What the fuck y'all done started; four apocalypic prophets\n Appearin outta floatin objects, wearin Middle Eastern garments\n Long trenchcoats with our hands in our pockets\n Slappin all you scary-ass rap artists, half-retarded\n Swear by our forefathers\n Anything you speak, think, or show will be disregarded\n Then I drag your frightened ass through the darkness\n Bring you out the other side, as a carcass\n I'm heartless, regardless if y'all claim to be Gods or Goddess\n To me, y'all all garbage; I see all of y'all as movin targets\n And my lyrics be the atomic rockets, cosmic vomic - spittin\n Hittin at y'all Vietnam vets\n Wit military arms and bombs strapped to our chest\n Castin meteor storms and comets\n Now who wanna make the next ras comment\n And be the first one left unconscious?\n After I squeeze your head like the Charmin\n Fuck around and see a lightning bolt around your throat\n And squeeze till your head smoke from all the electric volts\n Satanically sacrifice your ass like an occult\n Have your seance inside of a dark synogogue\n We was lyrically sent to y'all\n Like the Men of God to put a end to y'all\n I sniff bites like dogs to get the scent of y'all\n Horsemen, we be scorchin when we be walkin\n With the power to put a graveyard inside a coffin\n\n Let's air it out like the breeze\n Now watch me do one-armed handstands\n And hang these N-U-T's over seven continents and seven seas\n Streets is Lebanese\n Be rockin Bulgari wrist watches and sniper marines\n Most of these MC's can't even rap, just model and go gold\n And get big-headed like they swallowin colleges\n I spit empty gravesites, rap stars fill 'em up\n You what? Thirty, forty years old and still wack as fuck\n Me? I ain't even in my prime\n When I write my dopest rhyme, Western civilization declines\n Catch me hoppin off the A train in a New York state of mind\n But I rep Westside, so I keep L.A. time\n That's a three-hour difference;\n So when my bitch is a six, she's really a nine\n In seven days, she'd still be a dime\n Call me Blaze Skywalker hittin jugular veins\n Crack open your skull wit a paper weight and suck out your brains\n Kiddo, I be doin my thug-thizzo for shizzo\n And the wife of a careless man is almost a widow\n So what's happening, from P.I. to '99 Madden\n Since police be jackin blacks, I talk to pigs in Pig Latin:\n Uck-fay ou-yay itch-bay et-lay a-igga-nay-play\n And free Keith Mur-ray (Horsemen)\n\n Yo, yo, yo\n I kick a verse at six-hundred and sixty-six megahertz\n Make lightnin flash across the sky everytime I curse\n Six-hundred and sixty-six flashes\n Give out six-hundred and sixty-six lashes\n To the backs of six-hundred and sixty-six Master of Ceremony has-beens\n Put a crown of thorns on whoever the king of rap is\n If he's a *Catholic* I nail him to a crucifix\n Then I beat him till he's blackish-blueish\n Then perform acupuncture wit six-hundred and sixty-six toothpicks\n Beat em with two whips; with pieces of broken glass glued to it\n Your whole crew get spayed and neutered\n As soon as I aim and shoot it, you get sprayed with bullets\n Your armored cars and your kevlar vest, is useless\n I'mma fuck all of you pussies like group sex\n You get six-hundred and sixty-six years imprisonment\n For bitin off another nigga's shit, you bitch\n You got caught, now you on the other side of the law\n Snitchin on mad niggas in a soundproof court\n To get some of your sentence knocked off (nah nigga) you wildin'\n But you still be in Rikers Island getting forced to toss salads\n You scared of that, wit a phobia fear of that\n I'mma tape it on the digital video DAT\n And send a copy to Miramax - leave you exposed\n Turn all the fiction to fact, so everybody will know\n You a sucker-ass nigga, father-fuckin ass nigga\n That got fucked in the ass by your father figure\n (No matter who?) I'll bruise and bash you, blast you\n Autograph you wit a bullet wound for a tattoo\n Deliverin mind blowin rhymes and poems\n Controllin my tongue when I'm flowin like pilot controlled Boeings\n When I get bitten, I bite back, quicker than Tyson attacks\n I don't give a FUCK if I don't get my license back\n So, take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward\n MC's take caution\n The Four Horsemen'll chop your head off wit a sword then\n Gallop Northward motherfuckers; yeah\n\n So just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by, what we ride by\n Just abide by, what your ride by\n Cause we abide by what we ride by, HA!\n\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Priest, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Bis, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! All you heard was \"Ras, don't hit me no more\"\n Wavin the four-four! Aiyyo Kurupt, hit them niggas wit the hardcore!\n\n Yeah nigga, I'm headless without thoughts\n With my motherfuckin arms crossed\n I transform from a Dogg to a Horse\n Took over the whole race course\n To throw the jockey off the saddle\n Now who the fuck really wanna battle?\n Got me a pistol, launch it off like a missile\n Let it whistle, they fall fuckin round wit the Dogg\n I'm a hog.\n"}]