[{"id":307943,"name":"Since When","trackName":"Since When","artistName":"Cunninlynguists","albumName":"A Piece of Strange","duration":242.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We flavor the music, chop this screw that\nTake you through church in a verse til you view fact\nHoly ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\nFacin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n(We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\nOur tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\nCall it el natural sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n(From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\nYou hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n(Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n(Not never been clever since big pens been about\nReachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\nI hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out your God damned mind\nYeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\nCause niggas been about them lines\nSince when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\nRidin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\nAnd them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n(The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\nRain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\nI might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n(If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\nI spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\nSo save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\nA Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n(We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\nStandin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\nYe' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\nCold as no power, after hours in the winter months\nHot though (crock-pot flow)\nSo here dinner comes\nWalk them shell toes down underground railroads\n(Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\nAnd these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\nYou ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\nI hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out your God damned mind\nYeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\nCause niggas been about them lines\nSince when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\nRidin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\nAnd them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when","syncedLyrics":"[00:37.60] We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n[00:40.71] Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n[00:43.28] Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n[00:45.50] Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n[00:47.98] (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n[00:50.50] Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n[00:52.91] Call it el natural sound of soul\n[00:54.92] You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n[00:57.40] (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n[00:59.82] My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n[01:02.19] You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n[01:04.99] With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n[01:07.27] (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n[01:09.46] (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n[01:12.01] Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n[01:14.36] That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n[01:17.12] I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n[01:19.43] Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n[01:21.85] Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n[01:24.79] Cause niggas been about them lines\n[01:26.78] Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n[01:28.91] Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n[01:31.49] Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n[01:33.61] And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n[01:36.13] (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n[01:38.82] Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n[01:41.25] I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n[01:43.34] (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n[01:45.83] I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n[01:48.23] So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n[01:50.58] A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n[01:53.21] (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n[01:55.77] Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n[01:58.22] Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n[02:00.63] Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n[02:03.14] Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n[02:04.74] So here dinner comes\n[02:05.74] Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n[02:07.99] (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n[02:10.35] And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n[02:13.10] You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n[02:15.24] I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n[02:17.62] Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n[02:19.97] Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n[02:22.97] Cause niggas been about them lines\n[02:24.87] Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n[02:27.05] Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n[02:29.67] Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n[02:31.84] And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When\n  artist: Cunninlynguists\n  album: A Piece of Strange\n  duration_ms: 242000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n  start_ms: 37600\n  end_ms: 40710\n- text: Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  start_ms: 40710\n  end_ms: 43280\n- text: Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  start_ms: 43280\n  end_ms: 45500\n- text: Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n  start_ms: 45500\n  end_ms: 47980\n- text: (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n  start_ms: 47980\n  end_ms: 50500\n- text: Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n  start_ms: 50500\n  end_ms: 52910\n- text: Call it el natural sound of soul\n  start_ms: 52910\n  end_ms: 54920\n- text: You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  start_ms: 54920\n  end_ms: 57400\n- text: (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  start_ms: 57400\n  end_ms: 59820\n- text: My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  start_ms: 59820\n  end_ms: 62190\n- text: You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n  start_ms: 62190\n  end_ms: 64990\n- text: With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  start_ms: 64990\n  end_ms: 67270\n- text: (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n  start_ms: 67270\n  end_ms: 69460\n- text: (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n  start_ms: 69460\n  end_ms: 72010\n- text: Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  start_ms: 72010\n  end_ms: 74360\n- text: That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n  start_ms: 74360\n  end_ms: 77120\n- text: I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 77120\n  end_ms: 79430\n- text: Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  start_ms: 79430\n  end_ms: 81850\n- text: Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 81850\n  end_ms: 84790\n- text: Cause niggas been about them lines\n  start_ms: 84790\n  end_ms: 86780\n- text: Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  start_ms: 86780\n  end_ms: 88910\n- text: Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 88910\n  end_ms: 91490\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  start_ms: 91490\n  end_ms: 93610\n- text: And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n  start_ms: 93610\n  end_ms: 96130\n- text: (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n  start_ms: 96130\n  end_ms: 98820\n- text: Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  start_ms: 98820\n  end_ms: 101250\n- text: I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n  start_ms: 101250\n  end_ms: 103340\n- text: (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n  start_ms: 103340\n  end_ms: 105830\n- text: I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  start_ms: 105830\n  end_ms: 108230\n- text: So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n  start_ms: 108230\n  end_ms: 110580\n- text: A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n  start_ms: 110580\n  end_ms: 113210\n- text: (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n  start_ms: 113210\n  end_ms: 115770\n- text: Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  start_ms: 115770\n  end_ms: 118220\n- text: Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  start_ms: 118220\n  end_ms: 120630\n- text: Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  start_ms: 120630\n  end_ms: 123140\n- text: Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n  start_ms: 123140\n  end_ms: 124740\n- text: So here dinner comes\n  start_ms: 124740\n  end_ms: 125740\n- text: Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n  start_ms: 125740\n  end_ms: 127990\n- text: (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n  start_ms: 127990\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 133100\n- text: You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n  start_ms: 133100\n  end_ms: 135240\n- text: I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 135240\n  end_ms: 137620\n- text: Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  start_ms: 137620\n  end_ms: 139970\n- text: Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 139970\n  end_ms: 142970\n- text: Cause niggas been about them lines\n  start_ms: 142970\n  end_ms: 144870\n- text: Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  start_ms: 144870\n  end_ms: 147050\n- text: Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 147050\n  end_ms: 149670\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  start_ms: 149670\n  end_ms: 151840\n- text: And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when\n  start_ms: 151840\nplain: |-\n  We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n  Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n  (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n  Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n  Call it el natural sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n  (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n  Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n  I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  Cause niggas been about them lines\n  Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n  (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n  Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n  (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n  I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n  A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n  (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n  Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n  So here dinner comes\n  Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n  (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n  And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n  You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n  I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  Cause niggas been about them lines\n  Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when\n"},{"id":30704159,"name":"Since When","trackName":"Since When","artistName":"CunninLynguists","albumName":"Strangestrumentals","duration":171.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We flavor the music, chop this screw that\nTake you through church in a verse til you view fact\nHoly ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\nFacin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n(We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\nOur tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\nCall it el natural sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n(From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\nYou hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n(Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n(Not never been clever since big pens been about\nReachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\nI hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out your God damned mind\nYeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\nCause niggas been about them lines\nSince when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\nRidin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\nAnd them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n(The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\nRain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\nI might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n(If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\nI spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\nSo save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\nA Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n(We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\nStandin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\nYe' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\nCold as no power, after hours in the winter months\nHot though (crock-pot flow)\nSo here dinner comes\nWalk them shell toes down underground railroads\n(Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\nAnd these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\nYou ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\nI hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out your God damned mind\nYeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\nCause niggas been about them lines\nSince when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\nRidin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\nAnd them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when","syncedLyrics":"[00:37.60] We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n[00:40.71] Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n[00:43.28] Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n[00:45.50] Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n[00:47.98] (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n[00:50.50] Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n[00:52.91] Call it el natural sound of soul\n[00:54.92] You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n[00:57.40] (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n[00:59.82] My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n[01:02.19] You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n[01:04.99] With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n[01:07.27] (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n[01:09.46] (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n[01:12.01] Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n[01:14.36] That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n[01:17.12] I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n[01:19.43] Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n[01:21.85] Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n[01:24.79] Cause niggas been about them lines\n[01:26.78] Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n[01:28.91] Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n[01:31.49] Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n[01:33.61] And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n[01:36.13] (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n[01:38.82] Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n[01:41.25] I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n[01:43.34] (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n[01:45.83] I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n[01:48.23] So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n[01:50.58] A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n[01:53.21] (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n[01:55.77] Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n[01:58.22] Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n[02:00.63] Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n[02:03.14] Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n[02:04.74] So here dinner comes\n[02:05.74] Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n[02:07.99] (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n[02:10.35] And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n[02:13.10] You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n[02:15.24] I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n[02:17.62] Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n[02:19.97] Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n[02:22.97] Cause niggas been about them lines\n[02:24.87] Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n[02:27.05] Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n[02:29.67] Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n[02:31.84] And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When\n  artist: CunninLynguists\n  album: Strangestrumentals\n  duration_ms: 171000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n  start_ms: 37600\n  end_ms: 40710\n- text: Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  start_ms: 40710\n  end_ms: 43280\n- text: Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  start_ms: 43280\n  end_ms: 45500\n- text: Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n  start_ms: 45500\n  end_ms: 47980\n- text: (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n  start_ms: 47980\n  end_ms: 50500\n- text: Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n  start_ms: 50500\n  end_ms: 52910\n- text: Call it el natural sound of soul\n  start_ms: 52910\n  end_ms: 54920\n- text: You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  start_ms: 54920\n  end_ms: 57400\n- text: (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  start_ms: 57400\n  end_ms: 59820\n- text: My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  start_ms: 59820\n  end_ms: 62190\n- text: You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n  start_ms: 62190\n  end_ms: 64990\n- text: With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  start_ms: 64990\n  end_ms: 67270\n- text: (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n  start_ms: 67270\n  end_ms: 69460\n- text: (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n  start_ms: 69460\n  end_ms: 72010\n- text: Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  start_ms: 72010\n  end_ms: 74360\n- text: That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n  start_ms: 74360\n  end_ms: 77120\n- text: I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 77120\n  end_ms: 79430\n- text: Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  start_ms: 79430\n  end_ms: 81850\n- text: Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 81850\n  end_ms: 84790\n- text: Cause niggas been about them lines\n  start_ms: 84790\n  end_ms: 86780\n- text: Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  start_ms: 86780\n  end_ms: 88910\n- text: Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 88910\n  end_ms: 91490\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  start_ms: 91490\n  end_ms: 93610\n- text: And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n  start_ms: 93610\n  end_ms: 96130\n- text: (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n  start_ms: 96130\n  end_ms: 98820\n- text: Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  start_ms: 98820\n  end_ms: 101250\n- text: I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n  start_ms: 101250\n  end_ms: 103340\n- text: (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n  start_ms: 103340\n  end_ms: 105830\n- text: I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  start_ms: 105830\n  end_ms: 108230\n- text: So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n  start_ms: 108230\n  end_ms: 110580\n- text: A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n  start_ms: 110580\n  end_ms: 113210\n- text: (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n  start_ms: 113210\n  end_ms: 115770\n- text: Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  start_ms: 115770\n  end_ms: 118220\n- text: Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  start_ms: 118220\n  end_ms: 120630\n- text: Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  start_ms: 120630\n  end_ms: 123140\n- text: Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n  start_ms: 123140\n  end_ms: 124740\n- text: So here dinner comes\n  start_ms: 124740\n  end_ms: 125740\n- text: Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n  start_ms: 125740\n  end_ms: 127990\n- text: (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n  start_ms: 127990\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 133100\n- text: You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n  start_ms: 133100\n  end_ms: 135240\n- text: I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 135240\n  end_ms: 137620\n- text: Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  start_ms: 137620\n  end_ms: 139970\n- text: Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 139970\n  end_ms: 142970\n- text: Cause niggas been about them lines\n  start_ms: 142970\n  end_ms: 144870\n- text: Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  start_ms: 144870\n  end_ms: 147050\n- text: Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 147050\n  end_ms: 149670\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  start_ms: 149670\n  end_ms: 151840\n- text: And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when\n  start_ms: 151840\nplain: |-\n  We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n  Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n  (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n  Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n  Call it el natural sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n  (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n  Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n  I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  Cause niggas been about them lines\n  Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n  (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n  Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n  (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n  I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n  A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n  (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n  Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n  So here dinner comes\n  Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n  (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n  And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n  You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n  I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  Cause niggas been about them lines\n  Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when\n"},{"id":19274584,"name":"Since When","trackName":"Since When","artistName":"Cunninlynguists","albumName":"Sloppy Seconds Vol. 2","duration":102.930437,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Deacon)\nWe flava the music, chop this screw that\nTake you through church in a verse til you view fact\nHoly ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\nFacing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n(Natti)\nWe own rap\n(Deacon)\nFo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\nOur tracks? see, they be nappy\n(Natti)\nBut you can't comb that\n(Deacon)\nCall it el natural sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n(Natti)\nFrom, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\nYou hear Natti, hot as caddies\nWith no steering column on them\n(Deacon)\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n(Natti)\nSince when did the south\n(Deacon)\nGet pinned in a drought\n(Natti)\nNot never been clever since bic pens been about\nReaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\nI hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\nYeah, its about that time, we got that shine\nAnd niggaz been about them lines\nSince When?\nEver since A Pocket Full of Stones\nRidin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo had food for soul\nAnd them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\nSince When?\n\n(Natti)\nThe Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\nLike night sticks\nRain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\nI might switch, south paw\n(Deacon)\nKnuckle to jaw\n(Natti)\nIf another broke nigga spit about spending it all\nI spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\nSo save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n(Deacon)\nA Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n(Natti)\nWe struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n(Deacon)\nStandin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\nYou Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\nCold as no power, after hours in the winter months\nHot though\n(Natti)\nCrock-pot flow\n(Deacon)\nSo here dinner comes\nWalk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n(Natti)\nNiggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n(Deacon)\nAnd these words are'nt slurred\nMaybe how you listens blurred\nYou ain't feelin sickness served?\nMotherfucker kiss a curb","syncedLyrics":"[00:17.16] (Deacon)\n[00:38.05] We flava the music, chop this screw that\n[00:40.71] Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n[00:43.57] Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n[00:45.32] Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n[00:48.09] (Natti)\n[00:48.93] We own rap\n[00:49.82] (Deacon)\n[00:50.87] Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n[00:51.79] Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n[00:52.60] (Natti)\n[00:53.51] But you can't comb that\n[00:54.42] (Deacon)\n[00:55.32] Call it el natural sound of soul\n[00:56.20] You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n[00:57.19] (Natti)\n[00:58.06] From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n[00:59.86] My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n[01:02.64] You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n[01:05.32] With no steering column on them\n[01:07.17] (Deacon)\n[01:08.01] With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n[01:08.92] (Natti)\n[01:09.84] Since when did the south\n[01:10.75] (Deacon)\n[01:11.61] Get pinned in a drought\n[01:12.55] (Natti)\n[01:13.49] Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n[01:14.33] Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n[01:15.26] That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n[01:17.05] I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n[01:19.89] Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n[01:21.62] Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n[01:25.26] And niggaz been about them lines\n[01:26.17] Since When?\n[01:28.85] Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n[01:29.76] Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n[01:31.60] Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n[01:33.47] And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n[01:36.13] Since When?\n[01:37.00] (Natti)\n[01:37.97] The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n[01:38.85] Like night sticks\n[01:39.72] Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n[01:41.60] I might switch, south paw\n[01:42.55] (Deacon)\n[01:43.41] Knuckle to jaw\n[01:44.37] (Natti)\n[01:45.21] If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n[01:46.16] I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n[01:47.98] So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n[01:48.89] (Deacon)\n[01:50.77] A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n[01:51.60] (Natti)\n[01:52.53] We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n[01:55.21] (Deacon)\n[01:56.11] Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n[01:57.98] You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n[02:00.60] Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n[02:02.45] Hot though\n[02:03.35] (Natti)\n[02:04.35] Crock-pot flow\n[02:05.25] (Deacon)\n[02:06.18] So here dinner comes\n[02:07.92] Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n[02:08.82] (Natti)\n[02:09.74] Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n[02:10.68] (Deacon)\n[02:11.53] And these words are'nt slurred\n[02:12.40] Maybe how you listens blurred\n[02:13.32] You ain't feelin sickness served?\n[02:14.23] Motherfucker kiss a curb\n[02:15.19] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When\n  artist: Cunninlynguists\n  album: Sloppy Seconds Vol. 2\n  duration_ms: 102930\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 17160\n  end_ms: 38050\n- text: We flava the music, chop this screw that\n  start_ms: 38050\n  end_ms: 40710\n- text: Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  start_ms: 40710\n  end_ms: 43570\n- text: Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  start_ms: 43570\n  end_ms: 45320\n- text: Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n  start_ms: 45320\n  end_ms: 48090\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 48090\n  end_ms: 48930\n- text: We own rap\n  start_ms: 48930\n  end_ms: 49820\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 49820\n  end_ms: 50870\n- text: Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n  start_ms: 50870\n  end_ms: 51790\n- text: Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n  start_ms: 51790\n  end_ms: 52600\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 52600\n  end_ms: 53510\n- text: But you can't comb that\n  start_ms: 53510\n  end_ms: 54420\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 54420\n  end_ms: 55320\n- text: Call it el natural sound of soul\n  start_ms: 55320\n  end_ms: 56200\n- text: You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  start_ms: 56200\n  end_ms: 57190\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 57190\n  end_ms: 58060\n- text: From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  start_ms: 58060\n  end_ms: 59860\n- text: My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  start_ms: 59860\n  end_ms: 62640\n- text: You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n  start_ms: 62640\n  end_ms: 65320\n- text: With no steering column on them\n  start_ms: 65320\n  end_ms: 67170\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 67170\n  end_ms: 68010\n- text: With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  start_ms: 68010\n  end_ms: 68920\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 68920\n  end_ms: 69840\n- text: Since when did the south\n  start_ms: 69840\n  end_ms: 70750\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 70750\n  end_ms: 71610\n- text: Get pinned in a drought\n  start_ms: 71610\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 73490\n- text: Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n  start_ms: 73490\n  end_ms: 74330\n- text: Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  start_ms: 74330\n  end_ms: 75260\n- text: That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n  start_ms: 75260\n  end_ms: 77050\n- text: I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 77050\n  end_ms: 79890\n- text: Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n  start_ms: 79890\n  end_ms: 81620\n- text: Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 81620\n  end_ms: 85260\n- text: And niggaz been about them lines\n  start_ms: 85260\n  end_ms: 86170\n- text: Since When?\n  start_ms: 86170\n  end_ms: 88850\n- text: Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  start_ms: 88850\n  end_ms: 89760\n- text: Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 89760\n  end_ms: 91600\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n  start_ms: 91600\n  end_ms: 93470\n- text: And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n  start_ms: 93470\n  end_ms: 96130\n- text: Since When?\n  start_ms: 96130\n  end_ms: 97000\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 97000\n  end_ms: 97970\n- text: The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n  start_ms: 97970\n  end_ms: 98850\n- text: Like night sticks\n  start_ms: 98850\n  end_ms: 99720\n- text: Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  start_ms: 99720\n  end_ms: 101600\n- text: I might switch, south paw\n  start_ms: 101600\n  end_ms: 102550\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 102550\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: Knuckle to jaw\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 104370\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 104370\n  end_ms: 105210\n- text: If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n  start_ms: 105210\n  end_ms: 106160\n- text: I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  start_ms: 106160\n  end_ms: 107980\n- text: So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n  start_ms: 107980\n  end_ms: 108890\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 108890\n  end_ms: 110770\n- text: A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n  start_ms: 110770\n  end_ms: 111600\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 111600\n  end_ms: 112530\n- text: We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n  start_ms: 112530\n  end_ms: 115210\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 115210\n  end_ms: 116110\n- text: Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  start_ms: 116110\n  end_ms: 117980\n- text: You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  start_ms: 117980\n  end_ms: 120600\n- text: Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  start_ms: 120600\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Hot though\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 123350\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 123350\n  end_ms: 124350\n- text: Crock-pot flow\n  start_ms: 124350\n  end_ms: 125250\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 125250\n  end_ms: 126180\n- text: So here dinner comes\n  start_ms: 126180\n  end_ms: 127920\n- text: Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n  start_ms: 127920\n  end_ms: 128820\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 128820\n  end_ms: 129740\n- text: Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n  start_ms: 129740\n  end_ms: 130680\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 130680\n  end_ms: 131530\n- text: And these words are'nt slurred\n  start_ms: 131530\n  end_ms: 132400\n- text: Maybe how you listens blurred\n  start_ms: 132400\n  end_ms: 133320\n- text: You ain't feelin sickness served?\n  start_ms: 133320\n  end_ms: 134230\n- text: Motherfucker kiss a curb\n  start_ms: 134230\n  end_ms: 135190\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 135190\nplain: |-\n  (Deacon)\n  We flava the music, chop this screw that\n  Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n  (Natti)\n  We own rap\n  (Deacon)\n  Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n  Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n  (Natti)\n  But you can't comb that\n  (Deacon)\n  Call it el natural sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  (Natti)\n  From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n  With no steering column on them\n  (Deacon)\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  (Natti)\n  Since when did the south\n  (Deacon)\n  Get pinned in a drought\n  (Natti)\n  Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n  Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\n  I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n  Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n  And niggaz been about them lines\n  Since When?\n  Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n  And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n  Since When?\n\n  (Natti)\n  The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n  Like night sticks\n  Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  I might switch, south paw\n  (Deacon)\n  Knuckle to jaw\n  (Natti)\n  If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n  I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n  (Deacon)\n  A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n  (Natti)\n  We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n  (Deacon)\n  Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  Hot though\n  (Natti)\n  Crock-pot flow\n  (Deacon)\n  So here dinner comes\n  Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n  (Natti)\n  Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n  (Deacon)\n  And these words are'nt slurred\n  Maybe how you listens blurred\n  You ain't feelin sickness served?\n  Motherfucker kiss a curb\n"},{"id":20664513,"name":"Since When","trackName":"Since When","artistName":"CunninLynguists","albumName":"A Piece Of Strange","duration":244.041723,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Deacon)\nWe flava the music, chop this screw that\nTake you through church in a verse til you view fact\nHoly ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\nFacing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n(Natti)\nWe own rap\n(Deacon)\nFo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\nOur tracks? see, they be nappy\n(Natti)\nBut you can't comb that\n(Deacon)\nCall it el natural sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n(Natti)\nFrom, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\nYou hear Natti, hot as caddies\nWith no steering column on them\n(Deacon)\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n(Natti)\nSince when did the south\n(Deacon)\nGet pinned in a drought\n(Natti)\nNot never been clever since bic pens been about\nReaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\nI hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\nYeah, its about that time, we got that shine\nAnd niggaz been about them lines\nSince When?\nEver since A Pocket Full of Stones\nRidin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo had food for soul\nAnd them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\nSince When?\n\n(Natti)\nThe Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\nLike night sticks\nRain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\nI might switch, south paw\n(Deacon)\nKnuckle to jaw\n(Natti)\nIf another broke nigga spit about spending it all\nI spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\nSo save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n(Deacon)\nA Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n(Natti)\nWe struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n(Deacon)\nStandin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\nYou Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\nCold as no power, after hours in the winter months\nHot though\n(Natti)\nCrock-pot flow\n(Deacon)\nSo here dinner comes\nWalk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n(Natti)\nNiggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n(Deacon)\nAnd these words are'nt slurred\nMaybe how you listens blurred\nYou ain't feelin sickness served?\nMotherfucker kiss a curb","syncedLyrics":"[00:17.16] (Deacon)\n[00:38.05] We flava the music, chop this screw that\n[00:40.71] Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n[00:43.57] Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n[00:45.32] Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n[00:48.09] (Natti)\n[00:48.93] We own rap\n[00:49.82] (Deacon)\n[00:50.87] Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n[00:51.79] Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n[00:52.60] (Natti)\n[00:53.51] But you can't comb that\n[00:54.42] (Deacon)\n[00:55.32] Call it el natural sound of soul\n[00:56.20] You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n[00:57.19] (Natti)\n[00:58.06] From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n[00:59.86] My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n[01:02.64] You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n[01:05.32] With no steering column on them\n[01:07.17] (Deacon)\n[01:08.01] With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n[01:08.92] (Natti)\n[01:09.84] Since when did the south\n[01:10.75] (Deacon)\n[01:11.61] Get pinned in a drought\n[01:12.55] (Natti)\n[01:13.49] Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n[01:14.33] Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n[01:15.26] That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n[01:17.05] I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n[01:19.89] Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n[01:21.62] Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n[01:25.26] And niggaz been about them lines\n[01:26.17] Since When?\n[01:28.85] Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n[01:29.76] Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n[01:31.60] Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n[01:33.47] And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n[01:36.13] Since When?\n[01:37.00] (Natti)\n[01:37.97] The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n[01:38.85] Like night sticks\n[01:39.72] Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n[01:41.60] I might switch, south paw\n[01:42.55] (Deacon)\n[01:43.41] Knuckle to jaw\n[01:44.37] (Natti)\n[01:45.21] If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n[01:46.16] I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n[01:47.98] So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n[01:48.89] (Deacon)\n[01:50.77] A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n[01:51.60] (Natti)\n[01:52.53] We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n[01:55.21] (Deacon)\n[01:56.11] Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n[01:57.98] You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n[02:00.60] Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n[02:02.45] Hot though\n[02:03.35] (Natti)\n[02:04.35] Crock-pot flow\n[02:05.25] (Deacon)\n[02:06.18] So here dinner comes\n[02:07.92] Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n[02:08.82] (Natti)\n[02:09.74] Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n[02:10.68] (Deacon)\n[02:11.53] And these words are'nt slurred\n[02:12.40] Maybe how you listens blurred\n[02:13.32] You ain't feelin sickness served?\n[02:14.23] Motherfucker kiss a curb\n[02:15.19] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When\n  artist: CunninLynguists\n  album: A Piece Of Strange\n  duration_ms: 244042\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 17160\n  end_ms: 38050\n- text: We flava the music, chop this screw that\n  start_ms: 38050\n  end_ms: 40710\n- text: Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  start_ms: 40710\n  end_ms: 43570\n- text: Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  start_ms: 43570\n  end_ms: 45320\n- text: Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n  start_ms: 45320\n  end_ms: 48090\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 48090\n  end_ms: 48930\n- text: We own rap\n  start_ms: 48930\n  end_ms: 49820\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 49820\n  end_ms: 50870\n- text: Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n  start_ms: 50870\n  end_ms: 51790\n- text: Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n  start_ms: 51790\n  end_ms: 52600\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 52600\n  end_ms: 53510\n- text: But you can't comb that\n  start_ms: 53510\n  end_ms: 54420\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 54420\n  end_ms: 55320\n- text: Call it el natural sound of soul\n  start_ms: 55320\n  end_ms: 56200\n- text: You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  start_ms: 56200\n  end_ms: 57190\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 57190\n  end_ms: 58060\n- text: From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  start_ms: 58060\n  end_ms: 59860\n- text: My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  start_ms: 59860\n  end_ms: 62640\n- text: You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n  start_ms: 62640\n  end_ms: 65320\n- text: With no steering column on them\n  start_ms: 65320\n  end_ms: 67170\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 67170\n  end_ms: 68010\n- text: With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  start_ms: 68010\n  end_ms: 68920\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 68920\n  end_ms: 69840\n- text: Since when did the south\n  start_ms: 69840\n  end_ms: 70750\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 70750\n  end_ms: 71610\n- text: Get pinned in a drought\n  start_ms: 71610\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 73490\n- text: Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n  start_ms: 73490\n  end_ms: 74330\n- text: Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  start_ms: 74330\n  end_ms: 75260\n- text: That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n  start_ms: 75260\n  end_ms: 77050\n- text: I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 77050\n  end_ms: 79890\n- text: Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n  start_ms: 79890\n  end_ms: 81620\n- text: Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 81620\n  end_ms: 85260\n- text: And niggaz been about them lines\n  start_ms: 85260\n  end_ms: 86170\n- text: Since When?\n  start_ms: 86170\n  end_ms: 88850\n- text: Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  start_ms: 88850\n  end_ms: 89760\n- text: Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 89760\n  end_ms: 91600\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n  start_ms: 91600\n  end_ms: 93470\n- text: And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n  start_ms: 93470\n  end_ms: 96130\n- text: Since When?\n  start_ms: 96130\n  end_ms: 97000\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 97000\n  end_ms: 97970\n- text: The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n  start_ms: 97970\n  end_ms: 98850\n- text: Like night sticks\n  start_ms: 98850\n  end_ms: 99720\n- text: Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  start_ms: 99720\n  end_ms: 101600\n- text: I might switch, south paw\n  start_ms: 101600\n  end_ms: 102550\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 102550\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: Knuckle to jaw\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 104370\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 104370\n  end_ms: 105210\n- text: If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n  start_ms: 105210\n  end_ms: 106160\n- text: I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  start_ms: 106160\n  end_ms: 107980\n- text: So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n  start_ms: 107980\n  end_ms: 108890\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 108890\n  end_ms: 110770\n- text: A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n  start_ms: 110770\n  end_ms: 111600\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 111600\n  end_ms: 112530\n- text: We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n  start_ms: 112530\n  end_ms: 115210\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 115210\n  end_ms: 116110\n- text: Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  start_ms: 116110\n  end_ms: 117980\n- text: You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  start_ms: 117980\n  end_ms: 120600\n- text: Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  start_ms: 120600\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Hot though\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 123350\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 123350\n  end_ms: 124350\n- text: Crock-pot flow\n  start_ms: 124350\n  end_ms: 125250\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 125250\n  end_ms: 126180\n- text: So here dinner comes\n  start_ms: 126180\n  end_ms: 127920\n- text: Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n  start_ms: 127920\n  end_ms: 128820\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 128820\n  end_ms: 129740\n- text: Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n  start_ms: 129740\n  end_ms: 130680\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 130680\n  end_ms: 131530\n- text: And these words are'nt slurred\n  start_ms: 131530\n  end_ms: 132400\n- text: Maybe how you listens blurred\n  start_ms: 132400\n  end_ms: 133320\n- text: You ain't feelin sickness served?\n  start_ms: 133320\n  end_ms: 134230\n- text: Motherfucker kiss a curb\n  start_ms: 134230\n  end_ms: 135190\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 135190\nplain: |-\n  (Deacon)\n  We flava the music, chop this screw that\n  Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n  (Natti)\n  We own rap\n  (Deacon)\n  Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n  Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n  (Natti)\n  But you can't comb that\n  (Deacon)\n  Call it el natural sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  (Natti)\n  From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n  With no steering column on them\n  (Deacon)\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  (Natti)\n  Since when did the south\n  (Deacon)\n  Get pinned in a drought\n  (Natti)\n  Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n  Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\n  I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n  Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n  And niggaz been about them lines\n  Since When?\n  Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n  And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n  Since When?\n\n  (Natti)\n  The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n  Like night sticks\n  Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  I might switch, south paw\n  (Deacon)\n  Knuckle to jaw\n  (Natti)\n  If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n  I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n  (Deacon)\n  A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n  (Natti)\n  We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n  (Deacon)\n  Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  Hot though\n  (Natti)\n  Crock-pot flow\n  (Deacon)\n  So here dinner comes\n  Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n  (Natti)\n  Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n  (Deacon)\n  And these words are'nt slurred\n  Maybe how you listens blurred\n  You ain't feelin sickness served?\n  Motherfucker kiss a curb\n"},{"id":24247225,"name":"Since When","trackName":"Since When","artistName":"CunninLynguists","albumName":"A Piece of Strange (10th Anniversary Edition)","duration":241.64,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We flavor the music, chop this screw that\nTake you through church in a verse til you view fact\nHoly ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\nFacin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n(We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\nOur tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\nCall it el natural sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n(From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\nYou hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n(Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n(Not never been clever since big pens been about\nReachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\nI hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out your God damned mind\nYeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\nCause niggas been about them lines\nSince when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\nRidin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\nAnd them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n(The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\nRain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\nI might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n(If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\nI spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\nSo save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\nA Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n(We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\nStandin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\nYe' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\nCold as no power, after hours in the winter months\nHot though (crock-pot flow)\nSo here dinner comes\nWalk them shell toes down underground railroads\n(Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\nAnd these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\nYou ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\nI hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out your God damned mind\nYeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\nCause niggas been about them lines\nSince when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\nRidin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\nAnd them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when","syncedLyrics":"[00:37.60] We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n[00:40.71] Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n[00:43.28] Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n[00:45.50] Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n[00:47.98] (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n[00:50.50] Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n[00:52.91] Call it el natural sound of soul\n[00:54.92] You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n[00:57.40] (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n[00:59.82] My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n[01:02.19] You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n[01:04.99] With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n[01:07.27] (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n[01:09.46] (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n[01:12.01] Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n[01:14.36] That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n[01:17.12] I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n[01:19.43] Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n[01:21.85] Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n[01:24.79] Cause niggas been about them lines\n[01:26.78] Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n[01:28.91] Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n[01:31.49] Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n[01:33.61] And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n[01:36.13] (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n[01:38.82] Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n[01:41.25] I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n[01:43.34] (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n[01:45.83] I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n[01:48.23] So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n[01:50.58] A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n[01:53.21] (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n[01:55.77] Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n[01:58.22] Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n[02:00.63] Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n[02:03.14] Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n[02:04.74] So here dinner comes\n[02:05.74] Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n[02:07.99] (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n[02:10.35] And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n[02:13.10] You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n[02:15.24] I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n[02:17.62] Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n[02:19.97] Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n[02:22.97] Cause niggas been about them lines\n[02:24.87] Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n[02:27.05] Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n[02:29.67] Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n[02:31.84] And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When\n  artist: CunninLynguists\n  album: A Piece of Strange (10th Anniversary Edition)\n  duration_ms: 241640\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n  start_ms: 37600\n  end_ms: 40710\n- text: Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  start_ms: 40710\n  end_ms: 43280\n- text: Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  start_ms: 43280\n  end_ms: 45500\n- text: Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n  start_ms: 45500\n  end_ms: 47980\n- text: (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n  start_ms: 47980\n  end_ms: 50500\n- text: Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n  start_ms: 50500\n  end_ms: 52910\n- text: Call it el natural sound of soul\n  start_ms: 52910\n  end_ms: 54920\n- text: You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  start_ms: 54920\n  end_ms: 57400\n- text: (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  start_ms: 57400\n  end_ms: 59820\n- text: My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  start_ms: 59820\n  end_ms: 62190\n- text: You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n  start_ms: 62190\n  end_ms: 64990\n- text: With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  start_ms: 64990\n  end_ms: 67270\n- text: (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n  start_ms: 67270\n  end_ms: 69460\n- text: (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n  start_ms: 69460\n  end_ms: 72010\n- text: Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  start_ms: 72010\n  end_ms: 74360\n- text: That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n  start_ms: 74360\n  end_ms: 77120\n- text: I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 77120\n  end_ms: 79430\n- text: Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  start_ms: 79430\n  end_ms: 81850\n- text: Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 81850\n  end_ms: 84790\n- text: Cause niggas been about them lines\n  start_ms: 84790\n  end_ms: 86780\n- text: Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  start_ms: 86780\n  end_ms: 88910\n- text: Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 88910\n  end_ms: 91490\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  start_ms: 91490\n  end_ms: 93610\n- text: And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n  start_ms: 93610\n  end_ms: 96130\n- text: (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n  start_ms: 96130\n  end_ms: 98820\n- text: Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  start_ms: 98820\n  end_ms: 101250\n- text: I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n  start_ms: 101250\n  end_ms: 103340\n- text: (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n  start_ms: 103340\n  end_ms: 105830\n- text: I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  start_ms: 105830\n  end_ms: 108230\n- text: So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n  start_ms: 108230\n  end_ms: 110580\n- text: A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n  start_ms: 110580\n  end_ms: 113210\n- text: (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n  start_ms: 113210\n  end_ms: 115770\n- text: Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  start_ms: 115770\n  end_ms: 118220\n- text: Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  start_ms: 118220\n  end_ms: 120630\n- text: Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  start_ms: 120630\n  end_ms: 123140\n- text: Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n  start_ms: 123140\n  end_ms: 124740\n- text: So here dinner comes\n  start_ms: 124740\n  end_ms: 125740\n- text: Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n  start_ms: 125740\n  end_ms: 127990\n- text: (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n  start_ms: 127990\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 133100\n- text: You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n  start_ms: 133100\n  end_ms: 135240\n- text: I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 135240\n  end_ms: 137620\n- text: Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  start_ms: 137620\n  end_ms: 139970\n- text: Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 139970\n  end_ms: 142970\n- text: Cause niggas been about them lines\n  start_ms: 142970\n  end_ms: 144870\n- text: Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  start_ms: 144870\n  end_ms: 147050\n- text: Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 147050\n  end_ms: 149670\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  start_ms: 149670\n  end_ms: 151840\n- text: And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when\n  start_ms: 151840\nplain: |-\n  We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n  Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n  (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n  Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n  Call it el natural sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n  (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n  Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n  I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  Cause niggas been about them lines\n  Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n  (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n  Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n  (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n  I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n  A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n  (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n  Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n  So here dinner comes\n  Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n  (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n  And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n  You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n  I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  Cause niggas been about them lines\n  Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when\n"},{"id":21469700,"name":"Since When","trackName":"Since When","artistName":"CunninLynguists","albumName":"Sloppy Seconds Volume Two","duration":102.799875,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Deacon)\nWe flava the music, chop this screw that\nTake you through church in a verse til you view fact\nHoly ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\nFacing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n(Natti)\nWe own rap\n(Deacon)\nFo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\nOur tracks? see, they be nappy\n(Natti)\nBut you can't comb that\n(Deacon)\nCall it el natural sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n(Natti)\nFrom, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\nYou hear Natti, hot as caddies\nWith no steering column on them\n(Deacon)\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n(Natti)\nSince when did the south\n(Deacon)\nGet pinned in a drought\n(Natti)\nNot never been clever since bic pens been about\nReaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\nI hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\nYeah, its about that time, we got that shine\nAnd niggaz been about them lines\nSince When?\nEver since A Pocket Full of Stones\nRidin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo had food for soul\nAnd them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\nSince When?\n\n(Natti)\nThe Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\nLike night sticks\nRain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\nI might switch, south paw\n(Deacon)\nKnuckle to jaw\n(Natti)\nIf another broke nigga spit about spending it all\nI spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\nSo save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n(Deacon)\nA Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n(Natti)\nWe struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n(Deacon)\nStandin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\nYou Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\nCold as no power, after hours in the winter months\nHot though\n(Natti)\nCrock-pot flow\n(Deacon)\nSo here dinner comes\nWalk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n(Natti)\nNiggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n(Deacon)\nAnd these words are'nt slurred\nMaybe how you listens blurred\nYou ain't feelin sickness served?\nMotherfucker kiss a curb","syncedLyrics":"[00:17.16] (Deacon)\n[00:38.05] We flava the music, chop this screw that\n[00:40.71] Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n[00:43.57] Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n[00:45.32] Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n[00:48.09] (Natti)\n[00:48.93] We own rap\n[00:49.82] (Deacon)\n[00:50.87] Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n[00:51.79] Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n[00:52.60] (Natti)\n[00:53.51] But you can't comb that\n[00:54.42] (Deacon)\n[00:55.32] Call it el natural sound of soul\n[00:56.20] You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n[00:57.19] (Natti)\n[00:58.06] From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n[00:59.86] My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n[01:02.64] You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n[01:05.32] With no steering column on them\n[01:07.17] (Deacon)\n[01:08.01] With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n[01:08.92] (Natti)\n[01:09.84] Since when did the south\n[01:10.75] (Deacon)\n[01:11.61] Get pinned in a drought\n[01:12.55] (Natti)\n[01:13.49] Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n[01:14.33] Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n[01:15.26] That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n[01:17.05] I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n[01:19.89] Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n[01:21.62] Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n[01:25.26] And niggaz been about them lines\n[01:26.17] Since When?\n[01:28.85] Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n[01:29.76] Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n[01:31.60] Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n[01:33.47] And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n[01:36.13] Since When?\n[01:37.00] (Natti)\n[01:37.97] The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n[01:38.85] Like night sticks\n[01:39.72] Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n[01:41.60] I might switch, south paw\n[01:42.55] (Deacon)\n[01:43.41] Knuckle to jaw\n[01:44.37] (Natti)\n[01:45.21] If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n[01:46.16] I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n[01:47.98] So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n[01:48.89] (Deacon)\n[01:50.77] A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n[01:51.60] (Natti)\n[01:52.53] We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n[01:55.21] (Deacon)\n[01:56.11] Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n[01:57.98] You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n[02:00.60] Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n[02:02.45] Hot though\n[02:03.35] (Natti)\n[02:04.35] Crock-pot flow\n[02:05.25] (Deacon)\n[02:06.18] So here dinner comes\n[02:07.92] Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n[02:08.82] (Natti)\n[02:09.74] Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n[02:10.68] (Deacon)\n[02:11.53] And these words are'nt slurred\n[02:12.40] Maybe how you listens blurred\n[02:13.32] You ain't feelin sickness served?\n[02:14.23] Motherfucker kiss a curb\n[02:15.19] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When\n  artist: CunninLynguists\n  album: Sloppy Seconds Volume Two\n  duration_ms: 102800\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 17160\n  end_ms: 38050\n- text: We flava the music, chop this screw that\n  start_ms: 38050\n  end_ms: 40710\n- text: Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  start_ms: 40710\n  end_ms: 43570\n- text: Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  start_ms: 43570\n  end_ms: 45320\n- text: Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n  start_ms: 45320\n  end_ms: 48090\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 48090\n  end_ms: 48930\n- text: We own rap\n  start_ms: 48930\n  end_ms: 49820\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 49820\n  end_ms: 50870\n- text: Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n  start_ms: 50870\n  end_ms: 51790\n- text: Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n  start_ms: 51790\n  end_ms: 52600\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 52600\n  end_ms: 53510\n- text: But you can't comb that\n  start_ms: 53510\n  end_ms: 54420\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 54420\n  end_ms: 55320\n- text: Call it el natural sound of soul\n  start_ms: 55320\n  end_ms: 56200\n- text: You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  start_ms: 56200\n  end_ms: 57190\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 57190\n  end_ms: 58060\n- text: From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  start_ms: 58060\n  end_ms: 59860\n- text: My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  start_ms: 59860\n  end_ms: 62640\n- text: You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n  start_ms: 62640\n  end_ms: 65320\n- text: With no steering column on them\n  start_ms: 65320\n  end_ms: 67170\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 67170\n  end_ms: 68010\n- text: With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  start_ms: 68010\n  end_ms: 68920\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 68920\n  end_ms: 69840\n- text: Since when did the south\n  start_ms: 69840\n  end_ms: 70750\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 70750\n  end_ms: 71610\n- text: Get pinned in a drought\n  start_ms: 71610\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 73490\n- text: Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n  start_ms: 73490\n  end_ms: 74330\n- text: Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  start_ms: 74330\n  end_ms: 75260\n- text: That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n  start_ms: 75260\n  end_ms: 77050\n- text: I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 77050\n  end_ms: 79890\n- text: Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n  start_ms: 79890\n  end_ms: 81620\n- text: Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 81620\n  end_ms: 85260\n- text: And niggaz been about them lines\n  start_ms: 85260\n  end_ms: 86170\n- text: Since When?\n  start_ms: 86170\n  end_ms: 88850\n- text: Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  start_ms: 88850\n  end_ms: 89760\n- text: Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 89760\n  end_ms: 91600\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n  start_ms: 91600\n  end_ms: 93470\n- text: And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n  start_ms: 93470\n  end_ms: 96130\n- text: Since When?\n  start_ms: 96130\n  end_ms: 97000\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 97000\n  end_ms: 97970\n- text: The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n  start_ms: 97970\n  end_ms: 98850\n- text: Like night sticks\n  start_ms: 98850\n  end_ms: 99720\n- text: Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  start_ms: 99720\n  end_ms: 101600\n- text: I might switch, south paw\n  start_ms: 101600\n  end_ms: 102550\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 102550\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: Knuckle to jaw\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 104370\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 104370\n  end_ms: 105210\n- text: If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n  start_ms: 105210\n  end_ms: 106160\n- text: I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  start_ms: 106160\n  end_ms: 107980\n- text: So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n  start_ms: 107980\n  end_ms: 108890\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 108890\n  end_ms: 110770\n- text: A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n  start_ms: 110770\n  end_ms: 111600\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 111600\n  end_ms: 112530\n- text: We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n  start_ms: 112530\n  end_ms: 115210\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 115210\n  end_ms: 116110\n- text: Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  start_ms: 116110\n  end_ms: 117980\n- text: You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  start_ms: 117980\n  end_ms: 120600\n- text: Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  start_ms: 120600\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: Hot though\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 123350\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 123350\n  end_ms: 124350\n- text: Crock-pot flow\n  start_ms: 124350\n  end_ms: 125250\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 125250\n  end_ms: 126180\n- text: So here dinner comes\n  start_ms: 126180\n  end_ms: 127920\n- text: Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n  start_ms: 127920\n  end_ms: 128820\n- text: (Natti)\n  start_ms: 128820\n  end_ms: 129740\n- text: Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n  start_ms: 129740\n  end_ms: 130680\n- text: (Deacon)\n  start_ms: 130680\n  end_ms: 131530\n- text: And these words are'nt slurred\n  start_ms: 131530\n  end_ms: 132400\n- text: Maybe how you listens blurred\n  start_ms: 132400\n  end_ms: 133320\n- text: You ain't feelin sickness served?\n  start_ms: 133320\n  end_ms: 134230\n- text: Motherfucker kiss a curb\n  start_ms: 134230\n  end_ms: 135190\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 135190\nplain: |-\n  (Deacon)\n  We flava the music, chop this screw that\n  Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n  (Natti)\n  We own rap\n  (Deacon)\n  Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n  Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n  (Natti)\n  But you can't comb that\n  (Deacon)\n  Call it el natural sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  (Natti)\n  From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n  With no steering column on them\n  (Deacon)\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  (Natti)\n  Since when did the south\n  (Deacon)\n  Get pinned in a drought\n  (Natti)\n  Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n  Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\n  I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n  Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n  And niggaz been about them lines\n  Since When?\n  Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n  And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n  Since When?\n\n  (Natti)\n  The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n  Like night sticks\n  Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  I might switch, south paw\n  (Deacon)\n  Knuckle to jaw\n  (Natti)\n  If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n  I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n  (Deacon)\n  A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n  (Natti)\n  We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n  (Deacon)\n  Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  Hot though\n  (Natti)\n  Crock-pot flow\n  (Deacon)\n  So here dinner comes\n  Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n  (Natti)\n  Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n  (Deacon)\n  And these words are'nt slurred\n  Maybe how you listens blurred\n  You ain't feelin sickness served?\n  Motherfucker kiss a curb\n"},{"id":36226466,"name":"Since When?","trackName":"Since When?","artistName":"CunninLynguists","albumName":"Sloppy Seconds Vol. 2","duration":242.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We flavor the music, chop this screw that\nTake you through church in a verse til you view fact\nHoly ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\nFacin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n(We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\nOur tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\nCall it el natural sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n(From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\nYou hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n(Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n(Not never been clever since big pens been about\nReachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\nI hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out your God damned mind\nYeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\nCause niggas been about them lines\nSince when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\nRidin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\nAnd them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n(The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\nRain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\nI might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n(If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\nI spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\nSo save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\nA Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n(We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\nStandin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\nYe' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\nCold as no power, after hours in the winter months\nHot though (crock-pot flow)\nSo here dinner comes\nWalk them shell toes down underground railroads\n(Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\nAnd these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\nYou ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\nI hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out your God damned mind\nYeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\nCause niggas been about them lines\nSince when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\nRidin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\nAnd them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when","syncedLyrics":"[00:37.60] We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n[00:40.71] Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n[00:43.28] Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n[00:45.50] Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n[00:47.98] (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n[00:50.50] Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n[00:52.91] Call it el natural sound of soul\n[00:54.92] You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n[00:57.40] (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n[00:59.82] My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n[01:02.19] You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n[01:04.99] With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n[01:07.27] (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n[01:09.46] (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n[01:12.01] Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n[01:14.36] That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n[01:17.12] I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n[01:19.43] Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n[01:21.85] Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n[01:24.79] Cause niggas been about them lines\n[01:26.78] Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n[01:28.91] Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n[01:31.49] Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n[01:33.61] And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n[01:36.13] (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n[01:38.82] Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n[01:41.25] I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n[01:43.34] (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n[01:45.83] I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n[01:48.23] So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n[01:50.58] A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n[01:53.21] (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n[01:55.77] Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n[01:58.22] Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n[02:00.63] Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n[02:03.14] Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n[02:04.74] So here dinner comes\n[02:05.74] Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n[02:07.99] (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n[02:10.35] And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n[02:13.10] You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n[02:15.24] I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n[02:17.62] Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n[02:19.97] Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n[02:22.97] Cause niggas been about them lines\n[02:24.87] Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n[02:27.05] Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n[02:29.67] Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n[02:31.84] And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When?\n  artist: CunninLynguists\n  album: Sloppy Seconds Vol. 2\n  duration_ms: 242000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n  start_ms: 37600\n  end_ms: 40710\n- text: Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  start_ms: 40710\n  end_ms: 43280\n- text: Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  start_ms: 43280\n  end_ms: 45500\n- text: Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n  start_ms: 45500\n  end_ms: 47980\n- text: (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n  start_ms: 47980\n  end_ms: 50500\n- text: Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n  start_ms: 50500\n  end_ms: 52910\n- text: Call it el natural sound of soul\n  start_ms: 52910\n  end_ms: 54920\n- text: You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  start_ms: 54920\n  end_ms: 57400\n- text: (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  start_ms: 57400\n  end_ms: 59820\n- text: My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  start_ms: 59820\n  end_ms: 62190\n- text: You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n  start_ms: 62190\n  end_ms: 64990\n- text: With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  start_ms: 64990\n  end_ms: 67270\n- text: (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n  start_ms: 67270\n  end_ms: 69460\n- text: (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n  start_ms: 69460\n  end_ms: 72010\n- text: Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  start_ms: 72010\n  end_ms: 74360\n- text: That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n  start_ms: 74360\n  end_ms: 77120\n- text: I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 77120\n  end_ms: 79430\n- text: Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  start_ms: 79430\n  end_ms: 81850\n- text: Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 81850\n  end_ms: 84790\n- text: Cause niggas been about them lines\n  start_ms: 84790\n  end_ms: 86780\n- text: Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  start_ms: 86780\n  end_ms: 88910\n- text: Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 88910\n  end_ms: 91490\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  start_ms: 91490\n  end_ms: 93610\n- text: And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n  start_ms: 93610\n  end_ms: 96130\n- text: (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n  start_ms: 96130\n  end_ms: 98820\n- text: Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  start_ms: 98820\n  end_ms: 101250\n- text: I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n  start_ms: 101250\n  end_ms: 103340\n- text: (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n  start_ms: 103340\n  end_ms: 105830\n- text: I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  start_ms: 105830\n  end_ms: 108230\n- text: So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n  start_ms: 108230\n  end_ms: 110580\n- text: A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n  start_ms: 110580\n  end_ms: 113210\n- text: (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n  start_ms: 113210\n  end_ms: 115770\n- text: Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  start_ms: 115770\n  end_ms: 118220\n- text: Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  start_ms: 118220\n  end_ms: 120630\n- text: Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  start_ms: 120630\n  end_ms: 123140\n- text: Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n  start_ms: 123140\n  end_ms: 124740\n- text: So here dinner comes\n  start_ms: 124740\n  end_ms: 125740\n- text: Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n  start_ms: 125740\n  end_ms: 127990\n- text: (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n  start_ms: 127990\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 133100\n- text: You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n  start_ms: 133100\n  end_ms: 135240\n- text: I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 135240\n  end_ms: 137620\n- text: Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  start_ms: 137620\n  end_ms: 139970\n- text: Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 139970\n  end_ms: 142970\n- text: Cause niggas been about them lines\n  start_ms: 142970\n  end_ms: 144870\n- text: Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  start_ms: 144870\n  end_ms: 147050\n- text: Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 147050\n  end_ms: 149670\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  start_ms: 149670\n  end_ms: 151840\n- text: And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when\n  start_ms: 151840\nplain: |-\n  We flavor the music, chop this screw that\n  Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  Facin critics cold fronts, blockin our humidity\n  (We own rap) fo sho as Cognac'll twist yo dome back\n  Our tracks? See, they be nappy (but you can't comb that)\n  Call it el natural sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  (From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  You hear Natti, hot as Caddies with no steering column on 'em)\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  (Since when did the south) get pinned in a drought?\n  (Not never been clever since big pens been about\n  Reachin whateva levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as yo kids when this mics to our mouth)\n  I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  Cause niggas been about them lines\n  Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do'\n  (The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind like night-sticks\n  Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  I might switch, south-paw), knuckle to jaw\n  (If another broke nigga spit about spendin it all\n  I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  So save that to pay back all your loans and debts)\n  A Maybach and a plaque, is that all you get? Shit\n  (We struggle to juggle talent with a helluva sales pitch)\n  Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  Ye' ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  Hot though (crock-pot flow)\n  So here dinner comes\n  Walk them shell toes down underground railroads\n  (Niggas fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hell's close)\n  And these words at slurred, maybe how you listen's blurred\n  You ain't feelin sickness served? Muhfucka kiss a curb\n  I hear 'em talkin 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out your God damned mind\n  Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  Cause niggas been about them lines\n  Since when? E'ry since a \"Pocket Full of Stones\"\n  Ridin dirty in a Chevy sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  And them dirty red dawgs done hit the do', since when\n"},{"id":23467755,"name":"Since When (live)","trackName":"Since When (live)","artistName":"CunninLynguists","albumName":"A Piece of Strange (10th Anniversary Edition)","duration":156.946667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We flava the music, chop this screw that\nTake you through church in a verse til you view fact\nHoly ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\nFacing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n(Natti)\nWe own rap\n(Deacon)\nFo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\nOur tracks? see, they be nappy\n(Natti)\nBut you can't comb that\n(Deacon)\nCall it el natural sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n(Natti)\nFrom, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\nYou hear Natti, hot as caddies\nWith no steering column on them\n(Deacon)\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n(Natti)\nSince when did the south\n(Deacon)\nGet pinned in a drought\n(Natti)\nNot never been clever since bic pens been about\nReaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\nI hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\nYeah, its about that time, we got that shine\nAnd niggaz been about them lines\nSince When?\nEver since A Pocket Full of Stones\nRidin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo had food for soul\nAnd them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\nSince When?\n\n(Natti)\nThe Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\nLike night sticks\nRain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\nI might switch, south paw\n(Deacon)\nKnuckle to jaw\n(Natti)\nIf another broke nigga spit about spending it all\nI spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\nSo save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n(Deacon)\nA Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n(Natti)\nWe struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n(Deacon)\nStandin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\nYou Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\nCold as no power, after hours in the winter months\nHot though\n(Natti)\nCrock-pot flow\n(Deacon)\nSo here dinner comes\nWalk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n(Natti)\nNiggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n(Deacon)\nAnd these words are'nt slurred\nMaybe how you listens blurred\nYou ain't feelin sickness served?\nMotherfucker kiss a curb","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When (live)\n  artist: CunninLynguists\n  album: A Piece of Strange (10th Anniversary Edition)\n  duration_ms: 156947\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  We flava the music, chop this screw that\n  Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n  (Natti)\n  We own rap\n  (Deacon)\n  Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n  Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n  (Natti)\n  But you can't comb that\n  (Deacon)\n  Call it el natural sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  (Natti)\n  From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n  With no steering column on them\n  (Deacon)\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  (Natti)\n  Since when did the south\n  (Deacon)\n  Get pinned in a drought\n  (Natti)\n  Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n  Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\n  I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n  Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n  And niggaz been about them lines\n  Since When?\n  Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n  And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n  Since When?\n\n  (Natti)\n  The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n  Like night sticks\n  Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  I might switch, south paw\n  (Deacon)\n  Knuckle to jaw\n  (Natti)\n  If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n  I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n  (Deacon)\n  A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n  (Natti)\n  We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n  (Deacon)\n  Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  Hot though\n  (Natti)\n  Crock-pot flow\n  (Deacon)\n  So here dinner comes\n  Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n  (Natti)\n  Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n  (Deacon)\n  And these words are'nt slurred\n  Maybe how you listens blurred\n  You ain't feelin sickness served?\n  Motherfucker kiss a curb\n"},{"id":22001134,"name":"Since When (Live)","trackName":"Since When (Live)","artistName":"CunninLynguists","albumName":"A Piece of Strange Live In NYC 2009","duration":156.952812,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We flava the music, chop this screw that\nTake you through church in a verse til you view fact\nHoly ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\nFacing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n(Natti)\nWe own rap\n(Deacon)\nFo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\nOur tracks? see, they be nappy\n(Natti)\nBut you can't comb that\n(Deacon)\nCall it el natural sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n(Natti)\nFrom, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\nYou hear Natti, hot as caddies\nWith no steering column on them\n(Deacon)\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n(Natti)\nSince when did the south\n(Deacon)\nGet pinned in a drought\n(Natti)\nNot never been clever since bic pens been about\nReaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\nI hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\nYeah, its about that time, we got that shine\nAnd niggaz been about them lines\nSince When?\nEver since A Pocket Full of Stones\nRidin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo had food for soul\nAnd them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\nSince When?\n\n(Natti)\nThe Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\nLike night sticks\nRain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\nI might switch, south paw\n(Deacon)\nKnuckle to jaw\n(Natti)\nIf another broke nigga spit about spending it all\nI spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\nSo save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n(Deacon)\nA Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n(Natti)\nWe struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n(Deacon)\nStandin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\nYou Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\nCold as no power, after hours in the winter months\nHot though\n(Natti)\nCrock-pot flow\n(Deacon)\nSo here dinner comes\nWalk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n(Natti)\nNiggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n(Deacon)\nAnd these words are'nt slurred\nMaybe how you listens blurred\nYou ain't feelin sickness served?\nMotherfucker kiss a curb","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When (Live)\n  artist: CunninLynguists\n  album: A Piece of Strange Live In NYC 2009\n  duration_ms: 156953\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  We flava the music, chop this screw that\n  Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n  (Natti)\n  We own rap\n  (Deacon)\n  Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n  Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n  (Natti)\n  But you can't comb that\n  (Deacon)\n  Call it el natural sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  (Natti)\n  From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n  With no steering column on them\n  (Deacon)\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  (Natti)\n  Since when did the south\n  (Deacon)\n  Get pinned in a drought\n  (Natti)\n  Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n  Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\n  I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n  Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n  And niggaz been about them lines\n  Since When?\n  Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n  And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n  Since When?\n\n  (Natti)\n  The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n  Like night sticks\n  Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  I might switch, south paw\n  (Deacon)\n  Knuckle to jaw\n  (Natti)\n  If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n  I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n  (Deacon)\n  A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n  (Natti)\n  We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n  (Deacon)\n  Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  Hot though\n  (Natti)\n  Crock-pot flow\n  (Deacon)\n  So here dinner comes\n  Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n  (Natti)\n  Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n  (Deacon)\n  And these words are'nt slurred\n  Maybe how you listens blurred\n  You ain't feelin sickness served?\n  Motherfucker kiss a curb\n"},{"id":27936429,"name":"Since When (live)","trackName":"Since When (live)","artistName":"CunninLynguists","albumName":"A Piece of Strange","duration":157.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"We flava the music, chop this screw that\nTake you through church in a verse til you view fact\nHoly ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\nFacing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n(Natti)\nWe own rap\n(Deacon)\nFo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\nOur tracks? see, they be nappy\n(Natti)\nBut you can't comb that\n(Deacon)\nCall it el natural sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n(Natti)\nFrom, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\nYou hear Natti, hot as caddies\nWith no steering column on them\n(Deacon)\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n(Natti)\nSince when did the south\n(Deacon)\nGet pinned in a drought\n(Natti)\nNot never been clever since bic pens been about\nReaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\nI hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\nYeah, its about that time, we got that shine\nAnd niggaz been about them lines\nSince When?\nEver since A Pocket Full of Stones\nRidin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo had food for soul\nAnd them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\nSince When?\n\n(Natti)\nThe Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\nLike night sticks\nRain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\nI might switch, south paw\n(Deacon)\nKnuckle to jaw\n(Natti)\nIf another broke nigga spit about spending it all\nI spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\nSo save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n(Deacon)\nA Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n(Natti)\nWe struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n(Deacon)\nStandin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\nYou Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\nCold as no power, after hours in the winter months\nHot though\n(Natti)\nCrock-pot flow\n(Deacon)\nSo here dinner comes\nWalk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n(Natti)\nNiggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n(Deacon)\nAnd these words are'nt slurred\nMaybe how you listens blurred\nYou ain't feelin sickness served?\nMotherfucker kiss a curb","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When (live)\n  artist: CunninLynguists\n  album: A Piece of Strange\n  duration_ms: 157000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  We flava the music, chop this screw that\n  Take you through church in a verse til you view fact\n  Holy ghost, from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  Facing critics cold fronts, blocking our humidity\n\n  (Natti)\n  We own rap\n  (Deacon)\n  Fo sho as cognac'll twist you dome back\n  Our tracks? see, they be nappy\n  (Natti)\n  But you can't comb that\n  (Deacon)\n  Call it el natural sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they've flown\n  (Natti)\n  From, 'tween these parts and the ones 'nere known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on earlobes\n  You hear Natti, hot as caddies\n  With no steering column on them\n  (Deacon)\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  (Natti)\n  Since when did the south\n  (Deacon)\n  Get pinned in a drought\n  (Natti)\n  Not never been clever since bic pens been about\n  Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as you kids when this mics to our mouth\n\n  I hear 'em talking about souther folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out of your god damn mind\n  Yeah, its about that time, we got that shine\n  And niggaz been about them lines\n  Since When?\n  Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  Ridin Dirty in a chevy, sittin heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo had food for soul\n  And them dirty Red Dawgs done hit the do'\n  Since When?\n\n  (Natti)\n  The Mason-Dixon Line, been across ya mind\n  Like night sticks\n  Rain down on the game and fuck it up like white kicks\n  I might switch, south paw\n  (Deacon)\n  Knuckle to jaw\n  (Natti)\n  If another broke nigga spit about spending it all\n  I spit the gems that you splurge to put around neck\n  So save that to pay back all your loans and debts\n  (Deacon)\n  A Maybach and a plague? Is that all you get? Shhhit\n  (Natti)\n  We struggle to juggle talent with a hell of a sales pitch\n  (Deacon)\n  Standin on southern dirt that helped America get rich\n  You Ain't gotta struggle with a shovel to dig this\n  Cold as no power, after hours in the winter months\n  Hot though\n  (Natti)\n  Crock-pot flow\n  (Deacon)\n  So here dinner comes\n  Walk them sheltoes down underground railroads\n  (Natti)\n  Niggaz fresh outta jail clothes, spittin like hells close\n  (Deacon)\n  And these words are'nt slurred\n  Maybe how you listens blurred\n  You ain't feelin sickness served?\n  Motherfucker kiss a curb\n"},{"id":36388571,"name":"Since When? (preview)","trackName":"Since When? (preview)","artistName":"CunninLynguists Natti","albumName":"Sloppy Seconds, Volume 2","duration":103.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I know a lot of y'all players out there thought\nWe wasn't gon' come back at y'all with this thing\nAgain, but it's gon' look something like this\nLike this\nLike this\nLike this\nLike this\n\nWe flavor the music, chop this, cruise that\nTake you through church in a verse, leave you cued phat\nHoly ghost from the lowly coast, spit humility\n\nFacing critics cold fronts, blocking out humidity\nWe own rap, fo' sho' as cognac'll twist yo' dome back\nOur tracks, see they be nappy, but you can't comb that\nCall it au naturale, sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they flown\n\nFrom 'tween these parts and the ones ne'er known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on ear lobes\nYou hear daddy hot as patties with no steering collar on 'em\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\nAnd since when did the South get pinned in a drought?\nNot never, been clever since B.I.G. pens been about\nReaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as yo' kids when there's mics to our mouth\n\nI hear 'em talking 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out your goddamn mind\nYeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n'Cause niggas been about them lines\n\nEver since A Pocket Full of Stones\nRiding dirty in a Chevy, sitting heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\nAnd them dirty red dogs done hit the door\n\nY'all ain't ready for that shit yet, but be on the\nLookout for Cunnilingua's next album, A Piece of Strange","syncedLyrics":"[00:12.44] I know a lot of y'all players out there thought\n[00:14.78] We wasn't gon' come back at y'all with this thing\n[00:16.64] Again, but it's gon' look something like this\n[00:21.38] \n[00:33.12] Like this\n[00:33.47] Like this\n[00:33.47] Like this\n[00:33.47] Like this\n[00:35.97] \n[00:38.54] We flavor the music, chop this, cruise that\n[00:41.36] Take you through church in a verse, leave you cued phat\n[00:43.77] Holy ghost from the lowly coast, spit humility\n[00:46.09] Facing critics cold fronts, blocking out humidity\n[00:48.48] We own rap, fo' sho' as cognac'll twist yo' dome back\n[00:51.02] Our tracks, see they be nappy, but you can't comb that\n[00:53.42] Call it au naturale, sound of soul\n[00:55.48] You ain't seen these darts or how fast they flown\n[00:57.98] From 'tween these parts and the ones ne'er known\n[01:00.20] My slang bang with a twang and hang on ear lobes\n[01:02.70] You hear daddy hot as patties with no steering collar on 'em\n[01:05.26] With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n[01:07.43] And since when did the South get pinned in a drought?\n[01:10.06] Not never, been clever since B.I.G. pens been about\n[01:12.52] Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n[01:14.85] That we as bad as yo' kids when there's mics to our mouth\n[01:17.55] I hear 'em talking 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n[01:20.08] Some of y'all must be out your goddamn mind\n[01:22.57] Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n[01:25.36] 'Cause niggas been about them lines\n[01:28.07] Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n[01:29.46] Riding dirty in a Chevy, sitting heavy on chrome\n[01:31.92] Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n[01:34.21] And them dirty red dogs done hit the door\n[01:36.95] Y'all ain't ready for that shit yet, but be on the\n[01:39.24] Lookout for Cunnilingua's next album, A Piece of Strange\n[01:42.84] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When? (preview)\n  artist: CunninLynguists Natti\n  album: Sloppy Seconds, Volume 2\n  duration_ms: 103000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I know a lot of y'all players out there thought\n  start_ms: 12440\n  end_ms: 14780\n- text: We wasn't gon' come back at y'all with this thing\n  start_ms: 14780\n  end_ms: 16640\n- text: Again, but it's gon' look something like this\n  start_ms: 16640\n  end_ms: 21380\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 21380\n  end_ms: 33120\n- text: Like this\n  start_ms: 33120\n  end_ms: 33470\n- text: Like this\n  start_ms: 33470\n  end_ms: 33470\n- text: Like this\n  start_ms: 33470\n  end_ms: 33470\n- text: Like this\n  start_ms: 33470\n  end_ms: 35970\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 35970\n  end_ms: 38540\n- text: We flavor the music, chop this, cruise that\n  start_ms: 38540\n  end_ms: 41360\n- text: Take you through church in a verse, leave you cued phat\n  start_ms: 41360\n  end_ms: 43770\n- text: Holy ghost from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  start_ms: 43770\n  end_ms: 46090\n- text: Facing critics cold fronts, blocking out humidity\n  start_ms: 46090\n  end_ms: 48480\n- text: We own rap, fo' sho' as cognac'll twist yo' dome back\n  start_ms: 48480\n  end_ms: 51020\n- text: Our tracks, see they be nappy, but you can't comb that\n  start_ms: 51020\n  end_ms: 53420\n- text: Call it au naturale, sound of soul\n  start_ms: 53420\n  end_ms: 55480\n- text: You ain't seen these darts or how fast they flown\n  start_ms: 55480\n  end_ms: 57980\n- text: From 'tween these parts and the ones ne'er known\n  start_ms: 57980\n  end_ms: 60200\n- text: My slang bang with a twang and hang on ear lobes\n  start_ms: 60200\n  end_ms: 62700\n- text: You hear daddy hot as patties with no steering collar on 'em\n  start_ms: 62700\n  end_ms: 65260\n- text: With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  start_ms: 65260\n  end_ms: 67430\n- text: And since when did the South get pinned in a drought?\n  start_ms: 67430\n  end_ms: 70060\n- text: Not never, been clever since B.I.G. pens been about\n  start_ms: 70060\n  end_ms: 72520\n- text: Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  start_ms: 72520\n  end_ms: 74850\n- text: That we as bad as yo' kids when there's mics to our mouth\n  start_ms: 74850\n  end_ms: 77550\n- text: I hear 'em talking 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 77550\n  end_ms: 80080\n- text: Some of y'all must be out your goddamn mind\n  start_ms: 80080\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 85360\n- text: '''Cause niggas been about them lines'\n  start_ms: 85360\n  end_ms: 88070\n- text: Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  start_ms: 88070\n  end_ms: 89460\n- text: Riding dirty in a Chevy, sitting heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 89460\n  end_ms: 91920\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  start_ms: 91920\n  end_ms: 94210\n- text: And them dirty red dogs done hit the door\n  start_ms: 94210\n  end_ms: 96950\n- text: Y'all ain't ready for that shit yet, but be on the\n  start_ms: 96950\n  end_ms: 99240\n- text: Lookout for Cunnilingua's next album, A Piece of Strange\n  start_ms: 99240\n  end_ms: 102840\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 102840\nplain: |-\n  I know a lot of y'all players out there thought\n  We wasn't gon' come back at y'all with this thing\n  Again, but it's gon' look something like this\n  Like this\n  Like this\n  Like this\n  Like this\n\n  We flavor the music, chop this, cruise that\n  Take you through church in a verse, leave you cued phat\n  Holy ghost from the lowly coast, spit humility\n\n  Facing critics cold fronts, blocking out humidity\n  We own rap, fo' sho' as cognac'll twist yo' dome back\n  Our tracks, see they be nappy, but you can't comb that\n  Call it au naturale, sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they flown\n\n  From 'tween these parts and the ones ne'er known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on ear lobes\n  You hear daddy hot as patties with no steering collar on 'em\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  And since when did the South get pinned in a drought?\n  Not never, been clever since B.I.G. pens been about\n  Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as yo' kids when there's mics to our mouth\n\n  I hear 'em talking 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out your goddamn mind\n  Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  'Cause niggas been about them lines\n\n  Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  Riding dirty in a Chevy, sitting heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  And them dirty red dogs done hit the door\n\n  Y'all ain't ready for that shit yet, but be on the\n  Lookout for Cunnilingua's next album, A Piece of Strange\n"},{"id":31654770,"name":"Since When? (preview) (feat. Natti)","trackName":"Since When? (preview) (feat. Natti)","artistName":"CunninLynguists","albumName":"Sloppy Seconds, Volume 2","duration":103.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I know a lot of y'all players out there thought\nWe wasn't gon' come back at y'all with this thing\nAgain, but it's gon' look something like this\nLike this\nLike this\nLike this\nLike this\n\nWe flavor the music, chop this, cruise that\nTake you through church in a verse, leave you cued phat\nHoly ghost from the lowly coast, spit humility\n\nFacing critics cold fronts, blocking out humidity\nWe own rap, fo' sho' as cognac'll twist yo' dome back\nOur tracks, see they be nappy, but you can't comb that\nCall it au naturale, sound of soul\nYou ain't seen these darts or how fast they flown\n\nFrom 'tween these parts and the ones ne'er known\nMy slang bang with a twang and hang on ear lobes\nYou hear daddy hot as patties with no steering collar on 'em\nWith enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\nAnd since when did the South get pinned in a drought?\nNot never, been clever since B.I.G. pens been about\nReaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\nThat we as bad as yo' kids when there's mics to our mouth\n\nI hear 'em talking 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\nSome of y'all must be out your goddamn mind\nYeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n'Cause niggas been about them lines\n\nEver since A Pocket Full of Stones\nRiding dirty in a Chevy, sitting heavy on chrome\nEver since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\nAnd them dirty red dogs done hit the door\n\nY'all ain't ready for that shit yet, but be on the\nLookout for Cunnilingua's next album, A Piece of Strange","syncedLyrics":"[00:12.44] I know a lot of y'all players out there thought\n[00:14.78] We wasn't gon' come back at y'all with this thing\n[00:16.64] Again, but it's gon' look something like this\n[00:21.38] \n[00:33.12] Like this\n[00:33.47] Like this\n[00:33.47] Like this\n[00:33.47] Like this\n[00:35.97] \n[00:38.54] We flavor the music, chop this, cruise that\n[00:41.36] Take you through church in a verse, leave you cued phat\n[00:43.77] Holy ghost from the lowly coast, spit humility\n[00:46.09] Facing critics cold fronts, blocking out humidity\n[00:48.48] We own rap, fo' sho' as cognac'll twist yo' dome back\n[00:51.02] Our tracks, see they be nappy, but you can't comb that\n[00:53.42] Call it au naturale, sound of soul\n[00:55.48] You ain't seen these darts or how fast they flown\n[00:57.98] From 'tween these parts and the ones ne'er known\n[01:00.20] My slang bang with a twang and hang on ear lobes\n[01:02.70] You hear daddy hot as patties with no steering collar on 'em\n[01:05.26] With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n[01:07.43] And since when did the South get pinned in a drought?\n[01:10.06] Not never, been clever since B.I.G. pens been about\n[01:12.52] Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n[01:14.85] That we as bad as yo' kids when there's mics to our mouth\n[01:17.55] I hear 'em talking 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n[01:20.08] Some of y'all must be out your goddamn mind\n[01:22.57] Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n[01:25.36] 'Cause niggas been about them lines\n[01:28.07] Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n[01:29.46] Riding dirty in a Chevy, sitting heavy on chrome\n[01:31.92] Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n[01:34.21] And them dirty red dogs done hit the door\n[01:36.95] Y'all ain't ready for that shit yet, but be on the\n[01:39.24] Lookout for Cunnilingua's next album, A Piece of Strange\n[01:42.84] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Since When? (preview) (feat. Natti)\n  artist: CunninLynguists\n  album: Sloppy Seconds, Volume 2\n  duration_ms: 103000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: I know a lot of y'all players out there thought\n  start_ms: 12440\n  end_ms: 14780\n- text: We wasn't gon' come back at y'all with this thing\n  start_ms: 14780\n  end_ms: 16640\n- text: Again, but it's gon' look something like this\n  start_ms: 16640\n  end_ms: 21380\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 21380\n  end_ms: 33120\n- text: Like this\n  start_ms: 33120\n  end_ms: 33470\n- text: Like this\n  start_ms: 33470\n  end_ms: 33470\n- text: Like this\n  start_ms: 33470\n  end_ms: 33470\n- text: Like this\n  start_ms: 33470\n  end_ms: 35970\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 35970\n  end_ms: 38540\n- text: We flavor the music, chop this, cruise that\n  start_ms: 38540\n  end_ms: 41360\n- text: Take you through church in a verse, leave you cued phat\n  start_ms: 41360\n  end_ms: 43770\n- text: Holy ghost from the lowly coast, spit humility\n  start_ms: 43770\n  end_ms: 46090\n- text: Facing critics cold fronts, blocking out humidity\n  start_ms: 46090\n  end_ms: 48480\n- text: We own rap, fo' sho' as cognac'll twist yo' dome back\n  start_ms: 48480\n  end_ms: 51020\n- text: Our tracks, see they be nappy, but you can't comb that\n  start_ms: 51020\n  end_ms: 53420\n- text: Call it au naturale, sound of soul\n  start_ms: 53420\n  end_ms: 55480\n- text: You ain't seen these darts or how fast they flown\n  start_ms: 55480\n  end_ms: 57980\n- text: From 'tween these parts and the ones ne'er known\n  start_ms: 57980\n  end_ms: 60200\n- text: My slang bang with a twang and hang on ear lobes\n  start_ms: 60200\n  end_ms: 62700\n- text: You hear daddy hot as patties with no steering collar on 'em\n  start_ms: 62700\n  end_ms: 65260\n- text: With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  start_ms: 65260\n  end_ms: 67430\n- text: And since when did the South get pinned in a drought?\n  start_ms: 67430\n  end_ms: 70060\n- text: Not never, been clever since B.I.G. pens been about\n  start_ms: 70060\n  end_ms: 72520\n- text: Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  start_ms: 72520\n  end_ms: 74850\n- text: That we as bad as yo' kids when there's mics to our mouth\n  start_ms: 74850\n  end_ms: 77550\n- text: I hear 'em talking 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  start_ms: 77550\n  end_ms: 80080\n- text: Some of y'all must be out your goddamn mind\n  start_ms: 80080\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 85360\n- text: '''Cause niggas been about them lines'\n  start_ms: 85360\n  end_ms: 88070\n- text: Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  start_ms: 88070\n  end_ms: 89460\n- text: Riding dirty in a Chevy, sitting heavy on chrome\n  start_ms: 89460\n  end_ms: 91920\n- text: Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  start_ms: 91920\n  end_ms: 94210\n- text: And them dirty red dogs done hit the door\n  start_ms: 94210\n  end_ms: 96950\n- text: Y'all ain't ready for that shit yet, but be on the\n  start_ms: 96950\n  end_ms: 99240\n- text: Lookout for Cunnilingua's next album, A Piece of Strange\n  start_ms: 99240\n  end_ms: 102840\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 102840\nplain: |-\n  I know a lot of y'all players out there thought\n  We wasn't gon' come back at y'all with this thing\n  Again, but it's gon' look something like this\n  Like this\n  Like this\n  Like this\n  Like this\n\n  We flavor the music, chop this, cruise that\n  Take you through church in a verse, leave you cued phat\n  Holy ghost from the lowly coast, spit humility\n\n  Facing critics cold fronts, blocking out humidity\n  We own rap, fo' sho' as cognac'll twist yo' dome back\n  Our tracks, see they be nappy, but you can't comb that\n  Call it au naturale, sound of soul\n  You ain't seen these darts or how fast they flown\n\n  From 'tween these parts and the ones ne'er known\n  My slang bang with a twang and hang on ear lobes\n  You hear daddy hot as patties with no steering collar on 'em\n  With enough lines to dry all the clothes that you own\n  And since when did the South get pinned in a drought?\n  Not never, been clever since B.I.G. pens been about\n  Reaching whatever levels that'll suspend any doubt\n  That we as bad as yo' kids when there's mics to our mouth\n\n  I hear 'em talking 'bout Southern folks can't rhyme\n  Some of y'all must be out your goddamn mind\n  Yeah, it's about that time, we got that shine\n  'Cause niggas been about them lines\n\n  Ever since A Pocket Full of Stones\n  Riding dirty in a Chevy, sitting heavy on chrome\n  Ever since Goodie Mo' had Food for Soul\n  And them dirty red dogs done hit the door\n\n  Y'all ain't ready for that shit yet, but be on the\n  Lookout for Cunnilingua's next album, A Piece of Strange\n"}]