[{"id":31748736,"name":"MAKA","trackName":"MAKA","artistName":"Central Cee","albumName":"ALL ROADS LEAD HOME","duration":165.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\nAs long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\nArabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\nWe trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\nOn the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\nThink that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\nPlease and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\nAlright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\nI laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\nMe and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\nThat was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n\nNow me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\nChrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\nShoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\nOT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n\nI was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\nGo to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\nIs it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\nWhat you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n\nPut them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\nI don't know if they'll manage\nDressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\nI got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\nI played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n\nI'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\nAs long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\nArabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\nWe trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\nOn the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\nThink that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\nPlease and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\nWe got guns and balla\nFine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\nRollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\nT-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n\nFilled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\nHer chest too high, but she got no waist\nWhy they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\nLah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\nP-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n\nThe static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\nDXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\nCooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\nLike a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.49] I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n[00:03.45] As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n[00:06.79] Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n[00:10.25] We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n[00:13.45] On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n[00:17.19] Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n[00:20.60] 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n[00:23.86] Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n[00:27.35] Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n[00:30.92] I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n[00:34.24] Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n[00:37.76] That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n[00:41.26] Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n[00:44.56] Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n[00:47.81] Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n[00:51.26] OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n[00:54.30] I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n[00:58.30] Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n[01:01.57] Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n[01:04.79] What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n[01:08.17] Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n[01:11.13] I don't know if they'll manage\n[01:12.02] Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n[01:15.48] I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n[01:19.27] I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n[01:22.14] I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n[01:25.77] As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n[01:29.21] Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n[01:32.46] We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n[01:35.68] On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n[01:39.36] Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n[01:42.76] 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n[01:46.23] Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n[01:49.24] We got guns and balla\n[01:51.90] Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n[01:55.19] Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n[01:58.14] T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n[02:01.60] Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n[02:05.14] Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n[02:06.88] Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n[02:10.21] Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n[02:13.76] P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n[02:17.16] The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n[02:20.56] DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n[02:24.53] Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n[02:27.45] Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n[02:31.74] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: MAKA\n  artist: Central Cee\n  album: ALL ROADS LEAD HOME\n  duration_ms: 165000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  start_ms: 1490\n  end_ms: 3450\n- text: As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  start_ms: 3450\n  end_ms: 6790\n- text: Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  start_ms: 6790\n  end_ms: 10250\n- text: We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n  start_ms: 10250\n  end_ms: 13450\n- text: On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  start_ms: 13450\n  end_ms: 17190\n- text: Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  start_ms: 17190\n  end_ms: 20600\n- text: 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  start_ms: 20600\n  end_ms: 23860\n- text: Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n  start_ms: 23860\n  end_ms: 27350\n- text: Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n  start_ms: 27350\n  end_ms: 30920\n- text: I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n  start_ms: 30920\n  end_ms: 34240\n- text: Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n  start_ms: 34240\n  end_ms: 37760\n- text: That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n  start_ms: 37760\n  end_ms: 41260\n- text: Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n  start_ms: 41260\n  end_ms: 44560\n- text: Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n  start_ms: 44560\n  end_ms: 47810\n- text: Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n  start_ms: 47810\n  end_ms: 51260\n- text: OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n  start_ms: 51260\n  end_ms: 54300\n- text: I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n  start_ms: 54300\n  end_ms: 58300\n- text: Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n  start_ms: 58300\n  end_ms: 61570\n- text: Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n  start_ms: 61570\n  end_ms: 64790\n- text: What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n  start_ms: 64790\n  end_ms: 68170\n- text: Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n  start_ms: 68170\n  end_ms: 71130\n- text: I don't know if they'll manage\n  start_ms: 71130\n  end_ms: 72020\n- text: Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n  start_ms: 72020\n  end_ms: 75480\n- text: I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n  start_ms: 75480\n  end_ms: 79270\n- text: I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n  start_ms: 79270\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 85770\n- text: As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  start_ms: 85770\n  end_ms: 89210\n- text: Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  start_ms: 89210\n  end_ms: 92460\n- text: We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n  start_ms: 92460\n  end_ms: 95680\n- text: On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  start_ms: 95680\n  end_ms: 99360\n- text: Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  start_ms: 99360\n  end_ms: 102760\n- text: 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  start_ms: 102760\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109240\n- text: We got guns and balla\n  start_ms: 109240\n  end_ms: 111900\n- text: Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n  start_ms: 111900\n  end_ms: 115190\n- text: Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n  start_ms: 115190\n  end_ms: 118140\n- text: T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n  start_ms: 118140\n  end_ms: 121600\n- text: Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n  start_ms: 121600\n  end_ms: 125140\n- text: Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n  start_ms: 125140\n  end_ms: 126880\n- text: Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n  start_ms: 126880\n  end_ms: 130210\n- text: Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n  start_ms: 130210\n  end_ms: 133760\n- text: P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n  start_ms: 133760\n  end_ms: 137160\n- text: The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n  start_ms: 137160\n  end_ms: 140560\n- text: DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n  start_ms: 140560\n  end_ms: 144530\n- text: Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n  start_ms: 144530\n  end_ms: 147450\n- text: Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n  start_ms: 147450\n  end_ms: 151740\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 151740\nplain: |-\n  I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\n  On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\n  Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n  I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n  Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n  That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n\n  Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n  Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n  Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n  OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n\n  I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n  Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n  Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n  What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n\n  Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n  I don't know if they'll manage\n  Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n  I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n  I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n\n  I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\n  On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\n  We got guns and balla\n  Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n  Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n  T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n\n  Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n  Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n  Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n  Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n  P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n\n  The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n  DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n  Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n  Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n"},{"id":36112653,"name":"MAKA","trackName":"MAKA","artistName":"Central Cee","albumName":"YouTube","duration":165.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\nAs long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\nArabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\nWe trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\nOn the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\nThink that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\nPlease and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\nAlright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\nI laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\nMe and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\nThat was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n\nNow me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\nChrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\nShoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\nOT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n\nI was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\nGo to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\nIs it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\nWhat you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n\nPut them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\nI don't know if they'll manage\nDressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\nI got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\nI played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n\nI'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\nAs long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\nArabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\nWe trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\nOn the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\nThink that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\nPlease and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\nWe got guns and balla\nFine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\nRollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\nT-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n\nFilled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\nHer chest too high, but she got no waist\nWhy they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\nLah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\nP-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n\nThe static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\nDXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\nCooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\nLike a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.49] I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n[00:03.45] As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n[00:06.79] Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n[00:10.25] We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n[00:13.45] On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n[00:17.19] Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n[00:20.60] 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n[00:23.86] Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n[00:27.35] Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n[00:30.92] I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n[00:34.24] Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n[00:37.76] That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n[00:41.26] Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n[00:44.56] Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n[00:47.81] Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n[00:51.26] OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n[00:54.30] I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n[00:58.30] Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n[01:01.57] Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n[01:04.79] What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n[01:08.17] Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n[01:11.13] I don't know if they'll manage\n[01:12.02] Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n[01:15.48] I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n[01:19.27] I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n[01:22.14] I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n[01:25.77] As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n[01:29.21] Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n[01:32.46] We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n[01:35.68] On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n[01:39.36] Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n[01:42.76] 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n[01:46.23] Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n[01:49.24] We got guns and balla\n[01:51.90] Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n[01:55.19] Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n[01:58.14] T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n[02:01.60] Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n[02:05.14] Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n[02:06.88] Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n[02:10.21] Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n[02:13.76] P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n[02:17.16] The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n[02:20.56] DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n[02:24.53] Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n[02:27.45] Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n[02:31.74] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: MAKA\n  artist: Central Cee\n  album: YouTube\n  duration_ms: 165000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  start_ms: 1490\n  end_ms: 3450\n- text: As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  start_ms: 3450\n  end_ms: 6790\n- text: Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  start_ms: 6790\n  end_ms: 10250\n- text: We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n  start_ms: 10250\n  end_ms: 13450\n- text: On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  start_ms: 13450\n  end_ms: 17190\n- text: Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  start_ms: 17190\n  end_ms: 20600\n- text: 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  start_ms: 20600\n  end_ms: 23860\n- text: Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n  start_ms: 23860\n  end_ms: 27350\n- text: Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n  start_ms: 27350\n  end_ms: 30920\n- text: I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n  start_ms: 30920\n  end_ms: 34240\n- text: Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n  start_ms: 34240\n  end_ms: 37760\n- text: That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n  start_ms: 37760\n  end_ms: 41260\n- text: Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n  start_ms: 41260\n  end_ms: 44560\n- text: Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n  start_ms: 44560\n  end_ms: 47810\n- text: Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n  start_ms: 47810\n  end_ms: 51260\n- text: OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n  start_ms: 51260\n  end_ms: 54300\n- text: I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n  start_ms: 54300\n  end_ms: 58300\n- text: Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n  start_ms: 58300\n  end_ms: 61570\n- text: Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n  start_ms: 61570\n  end_ms: 64790\n- text: What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n  start_ms: 64790\n  end_ms: 68170\n- text: Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n  start_ms: 68170\n  end_ms: 71130\n- text: I don't know if they'll manage\n  start_ms: 71130\n  end_ms: 72020\n- text: Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n  start_ms: 72020\n  end_ms: 75480\n- text: I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n  start_ms: 75480\n  end_ms: 79270\n- text: I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n  start_ms: 79270\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 85770\n- text: As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  start_ms: 85770\n  end_ms: 89210\n- text: Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  start_ms: 89210\n  end_ms: 92460\n- text: We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n  start_ms: 92460\n  end_ms: 95680\n- text: On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  start_ms: 95680\n  end_ms: 99360\n- text: Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  start_ms: 99360\n  end_ms: 102760\n- text: 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  start_ms: 102760\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109240\n- text: We got guns and balla\n  start_ms: 109240\n  end_ms: 111900\n- text: Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n  start_ms: 111900\n  end_ms: 115190\n- text: Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n  start_ms: 115190\n  end_ms: 118140\n- text: T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n  start_ms: 118140\n  end_ms: 121600\n- text: Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n  start_ms: 121600\n  end_ms: 125140\n- text: Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n  start_ms: 125140\n  end_ms: 126880\n- text: Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n  start_ms: 126880\n  end_ms: 130210\n- text: Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n  start_ms: 130210\n  end_ms: 133760\n- text: P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n  start_ms: 133760\n  end_ms: 137160\n- text: The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n  start_ms: 137160\n  end_ms: 140560\n- text: DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n  start_ms: 140560\n  end_ms: 144530\n- text: Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n  start_ms: 144530\n  end_ms: 147450\n- text: Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n  start_ms: 147450\n  end_ms: 151740\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 151740\nplain: |-\n  I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\n  On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\n  Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n  I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n  Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n  That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n\n  Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n  Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n  Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n  OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n\n  I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n  Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n  Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n  What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n\n  Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n  I don't know if they'll manage\n  Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n  I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n  I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n\n  I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\n  On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\n  We got guns and balla\n  Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n  Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n  T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n\n  Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n  Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n  Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n  Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n  P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n\n  The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n  DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n  Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n  Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n"},{"id":31709184,"name":"MAKA","trackName":"MAKA","artistName":"Central Cee, A2Anti","albumName":"ALL ROADS LEAD HOME","duration":165.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\nAs long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\nArabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\nWe trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\nOn the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\nThink that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\nPlease and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\nAlright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\nI laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\nMe and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\nThat was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n\nNow me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\nChrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\nShoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\nOT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n\nI was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\nGo to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\nIs it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\nWhat you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n\nPut them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\nI don't know if they'll manage\nDressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\nI got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\nI played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n\nI'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\nAs long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\nArabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\nWe trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\nOn the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\nThink that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\nPlease and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\nWe got guns and balla\nFine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\nRollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\nT-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n\nFilled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\nHer chest too high, but she got no waist\nWhy they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\nLah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\nP-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n\nThe static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\nDXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\nCooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\nLike a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.49] I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n[00:03.45] As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n[00:06.79] Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n[00:10.25] We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n[00:13.45] On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n[00:17.19] Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n[00:20.60] 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n[00:23.86] Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n[00:27.35] Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n[00:30.92] I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n[00:34.24] Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n[00:37.76] That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n[00:41.26] Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n[00:44.56] Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n[00:47.81] Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n[00:51.26] OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n[00:54.30] I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n[00:58.30] Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n[01:01.57] Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n[01:04.79] What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n[01:08.17] Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n[01:11.13] I don't know if they'll manage\n[01:12.02] Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n[01:15.48] I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n[01:19.27] I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n[01:22.14] I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n[01:25.77] As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n[01:29.21] Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n[01:32.46] We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n[01:35.68] On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n[01:39.36] Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n[01:42.76] 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n[01:46.23] Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n[01:49.24] We got guns and balla\n[01:51.90] Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n[01:55.19] Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n[01:58.14] T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n[02:01.60] Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n[02:05.14] Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n[02:06.88] Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n[02:10.21] Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n[02:13.76] P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n[02:17.16] The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n[02:20.56] DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n[02:24.53] Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n[02:27.45] Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n[02:31.74] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: MAKA\n  artist: Central Cee, A2Anti\n  album: ALL ROADS LEAD HOME\n  duration_ms: 165000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  start_ms: 1490\n  end_ms: 3450\n- text: As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  start_ms: 3450\n  end_ms: 6790\n- text: Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  start_ms: 6790\n  end_ms: 10250\n- text: We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n  start_ms: 10250\n  end_ms: 13450\n- text: On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  start_ms: 13450\n  end_ms: 17190\n- text: Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  start_ms: 17190\n  end_ms: 20600\n- text: 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  start_ms: 20600\n  end_ms: 23860\n- text: Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n  start_ms: 23860\n  end_ms: 27350\n- text: Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n  start_ms: 27350\n  end_ms: 30920\n- text: I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n  start_ms: 30920\n  end_ms: 34240\n- text: Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n  start_ms: 34240\n  end_ms: 37760\n- text: That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n  start_ms: 37760\n  end_ms: 41260\n- text: Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n  start_ms: 41260\n  end_ms: 44560\n- text: Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n  start_ms: 44560\n  end_ms: 47810\n- text: Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n  start_ms: 47810\n  end_ms: 51260\n- text: OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n  start_ms: 51260\n  end_ms: 54300\n- text: I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n  start_ms: 54300\n  end_ms: 58300\n- text: Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n  start_ms: 58300\n  end_ms: 61570\n- text: Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n  start_ms: 61570\n  end_ms: 64790\n- text: What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n  start_ms: 64790\n  end_ms: 68170\n- text: Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n  start_ms: 68170\n  end_ms: 71130\n- text: I don't know if they'll manage\n  start_ms: 71130\n  end_ms: 72020\n- text: Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n  start_ms: 72020\n  end_ms: 75480\n- text: I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n  start_ms: 75480\n  end_ms: 79270\n- text: I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n  start_ms: 79270\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 85770\n- text: As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  start_ms: 85770\n  end_ms: 89210\n- text: Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  start_ms: 89210\n  end_ms: 92460\n- text: We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n  start_ms: 92460\n  end_ms: 95680\n- text: On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  start_ms: 95680\n  end_ms: 99360\n- text: Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  start_ms: 99360\n  end_ms: 102760\n- text: 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  start_ms: 102760\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109240\n- text: We got guns and balla\n  start_ms: 109240\n  end_ms: 111900\n- text: Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n  start_ms: 111900\n  end_ms: 115190\n- text: Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n  start_ms: 115190\n  end_ms: 118140\n- text: T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n  start_ms: 118140\n  end_ms: 121600\n- text: Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n  start_ms: 121600\n  end_ms: 125140\n- text: Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n  start_ms: 125140\n  end_ms: 126880\n- text: Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n  start_ms: 126880\n  end_ms: 130210\n- text: Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n  start_ms: 130210\n  end_ms: 133760\n- text: P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n  start_ms: 133760\n  end_ms: 137160\n- text: The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n  start_ms: 137160\n  end_ms: 140560\n- text: DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n  start_ms: 140560\n  end_ms: 144530\n- text: Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n  start_ms: 144530\n  end_ms: 147450\n- text: Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n  start_ms: 147450\n  end_ms: 151740\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 151740\nplain: |-\n  I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\n  On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\n  Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n  I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n  Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n  That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n\n  Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n  Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n  Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n  OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n\n  I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n  Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n  Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n  What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n\n  Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n  I don't know if they'll manage\n  Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n  I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n  I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n\n  I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\n  On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\n  We got guns and balla\n  Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n  Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n  T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n\n  Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n  Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n  Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n  Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n  P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n\n  The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n  DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n  Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n  Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n"},{"id":31821809,"name":"MAKA FT A2ANTI","trackName":"MAKA FT A2ANTI","artistName":"Central Cee","albumName":"ALL ROADS LEAD HOME","duration":165.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\nAs long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\nArabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\nWe trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\nOn the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\nThink that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\nPlease and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\nAlright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\nI laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\nMe and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\nThat was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n\nNow me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\nChrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\nShoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\nOT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n\nI was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\nGo to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\nIs it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\nWhat you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n\nPut them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\nI don't know if they'll manage\nDressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\nI got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\nI played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n\nI'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\nAs long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\nArabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\nWe trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\nOn the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\nThink that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\nPlease and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\nWe got guns and balla\nFine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\nRollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\nT-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n\nFilled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\nHer chest too high, but she got no waist\nWhy they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\nLah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\nP-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n\nThe static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\nDXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\nCooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\nLike a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.49] I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n[00:03.45] As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n[00:06.79] Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n[00:10.25] We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n[00:13.45] On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n[00:17.19] Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n[00:20.60] 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n[00:23.86] Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n[00:27.35] Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n[00:30.92] I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n[00:34.24] Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n[00:37.76] That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n[00:41.26] Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n[00:44.56] Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n[00:47.81] Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n[00:51.26] OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n[00:54.30] I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n[00:58.30] Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n[01:01.57] Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n[01:04.79] What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n[01:08.17] Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n[01:11.13] I don't know if they'll manage\n[01:12.02] Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n[01:15.48] I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n[01:19.27] I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n[01:22.14] I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n[01:25.77] As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n[01:29.21] Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n[01:32.46] We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n[01:35.68] On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n[01:39.36] Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n[01:42.76] 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n[01:46.23] Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n[01:49.24] We got guns and balla\n[01:51.90] Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n[01:55.19] Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n[01:58.14] T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n[02:01.60] Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n[02:05.14] Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n[02:06.88] Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n[02:10.21] Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n[02:13.76] P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n[02:17.16] The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n[02:20.56] DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n[02:24.53] Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n[02:27.45] Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n[02:31.74] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: MAKA FT A2ANTI\n  artist: Central Cee\n  album: ALL ROADS LEAD HOME\n  duration_ms: 165000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  start_ms: 1490\n  end_ms: 3450\n- text: As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  start_ms: 3450\n  end_ms: 6790\n- text: Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  start_ms: 6790\n  end_ms: 10250\n- text: We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n  start_ms: 10250\n  end_ms: 13450\n- text: On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  start_ms: 13450\n  end_ms: 17190\n- text: Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  start_ms: 17190\n  end_ms: 20600\n- text: 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  start_ms: 20600\n  end_ms: 23860\n- text: Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n  start_ms: 23860\n  end_ms: 27350\n- text: Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n  start_ms: 27350\n  end_ms: 30920\n- text: I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n  start_ms: 30920\n  end_ms: 34240\n- text: Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n  start_ms: 34240\n  end_ms: 37760\n- text: That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n  start_ms: 37760\n  end_ms: 41260\n- text: Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n  start_ms: 41260\n  end_ms: 44560\n- text: Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n  start_ms: 44560\n  end_ms: 47810\n- text: Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n  start_ms: 47810\n  end_ms: 51260\n- text: OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n  start_ms: 51260\n  end_ms: 54300\n- text: I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n  start_ms: 54300\n  end_ms: 58300\n- text: Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n  start_ms: 58300\n  end_ms: 61570\n- text: Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n  start_ms: 61570\n  end_ms: 64790\n- text: What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n  start_ms: 64790\n  end_ms: 68170\n- text: Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n  start_ms: 68170\n  end_ms: 71130\n- text: I don't know if they'll manage\n  start_ms: 71130\n  end_ms: 72020\n- text: Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n  start_ms: 72020\n  end_ms: 75480\n- text: I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n  start_ms: 75480\n  end_ms: 79270\n- text: I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n  start_ms: 79270\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 85770\n- text: As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  start_ms: 85770\n  end_ms: 89210\n- text: Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  start_ms: 89210\n  end_ms: 92460\n- text: We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n  start_ms: 92460\n  end_ms: 95680\n- text: On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  start_ms: 95680\n  end_ms: 99360\n- text: Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  start_ms: 99360\n  end_ms: 102760\n- text: 50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  start_ms: 102760\n  end_ms: 106230\n- text: Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n  start_ms: 106230\n  end_ms: 109240\n- text: We got guns and balla\n  start_ms: 109240\n  end_ms: 111900\n- text: Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n  start_ms: 111900\n  end_ms: 115190\n- text: Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n  start_ms: 115190\n  end_ms: 118140\n- text: T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n  start_ms: 118140\n  end_ms: 121600\n- text: Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n  start_ms: 121600\n  end_ms: 125140\n- text: Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n  start_ms: 125140\n  end_ms: 126880\n- text: Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n  start_ms: 126880\n  end_ms: 130210\n- text: Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n  start_ms: 130210\n  end_ms: 133760\n- text: P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n  start_ms: 133760\n  end_ms: 137160\n- text: The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n  start_ms: 137160\n  end_ms: 140560\n- text: DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n  start_ms: 140560\n  end_ms: 144530\n- text: Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n  start_ms: 144530\n  end_ms: 147450\n- text: Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n  start_ms: 147450\n  end_ms: 151740\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 151740\nplain: |-\n  I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\n  On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\n  Alright (alright), between me and them, there's a serious gap\n  I laugh out loud when I hear them brag, I was just like them, I was sharin' clothes\n  Me and bro took turns, I'd share with wads like the back of my hand, got the area mapped\n  That was crack cocaine and heroin wraps, it was Cathmore Park where they buried the waps\n\n  Now me and 'em boys got nothin' in common, they can't compare me, nothin' ain't similar\n  Chrome Heart shades on my face, remember the ones that I teefed from the 3D cinema\n  Shoulda went collie and not skipped seminar, bro pushed weight like cellulite\n  OT sellin' like court on sell site, risk jail time for a cash flow regular\n\n  I was only a kid peekin' through the window, and I got gassed when I heard it slap\n  Go to the club, get paid and cut, they buy tables and get burst off yak\n  Is it worth all of that to get turf by yats? For me and my batch, it don't work like that\n  What you lot hear don't hurt me, so I make sure when I cheat, no words get back\n\n  Put them in my shoes, I don't know if them dudes gonna make it through\n  I don't know if they'll manage\n  Dressed like skaters, still got my 'nan Condette when I'm wearin' Supreme or Palace\n  I got beef, but I ain't liftin' a finger, I make P that can make people vanish\n  I played FIFA with the fiends in the bando, shit WiFi had my P'4 laggin'\n\n  I'm tired, drained, exhausted, knackered, I ball like Shaq when the backboard's shattered\n  As long as the money and family's patterned, I don't give a fuck 'cause that's all that matters\n  Arabic one, she a blatant gaffer, but she don't think that I know she a badders\n  We trap, but we shoulda kicked back, been scammers, I seen bro call and wack that baller\n\n  On the stove, cook rollin' stones, but the jackboys cream off her moves like Jagger\n  Think that I poured up too much Maka', my belly is bloated, I fucked my bladder\n  50 notes, got hella red faces, makin' her blush, one touch, she's flattered\n  Please and thank you, remember your manners, I don't even live in a crib, it's a manor\n\n  We got guns and balla\n  Fine shit came with a friend, I'm not even knowin' which one's badder\n  Rollin' low, it's ski in the Benz, I'm back on the ends, I feel like Spragga\n  T-ten zigs, I'm twillin' blems, they don't want that, it's filled with cancer\n\n  Filled to the brim, ain't got no space, I fucked with three, but you bought that bag\n  Her chest too high, but she got no waist\n  Why they watchin' man so much while I'm watchin' gyal? I-I don't think they're straight\n  Lah, banged that off, make space, he's pushin' his friend like they're havin' a race\n  P-p-play with somethin' that's safe, the hash is high, and so the states\n\n  The static's loud, and so is the, and so is the bass\n  DXB, I'm flyin' Emirates, he woulda turned pack, but he got on a plane, huh\n  Cooked in the brain, he thought he was bad, got took for his chain (bitch)\n  Like a Tucson double-cup tuck, they're askin', \"What's that, pink lemonade?\"\n"}]