[{"id":31445327,"name":"Red, Meth & B","trackName":"Red, Meth & B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Meth & Red in da House","duration":225.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth & B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Meth & Red in da House\n  duration_ms: 225000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":18660397,"name":"Red, Meth and B","trackName":"Red, Meth and B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Meth & Red In Da House","duration":225.294167,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth and B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Meth & Red In Da House\n  duration_ms: 225294\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":6240217,"name":"Cypress Hill / Red, Meth & B (feat. Redman & Method Man)","trackName":"Cypress Hill / Red, Meth & B (feat. Redman & Method Man)","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders","duration":225.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Cypress Hill / Red, Meth & B (feat. Redman & Method Man)\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders\n  duration_ms: 225000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":15974170,"name":"Cypress Hill / Red, Meth & B (feat. Redman & Method Man)","trackName":"Cypress Hill / Red, Meth & B (feat. Redman & Method Man)","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Top 100 Rap","duration":225.38449,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Cypress Hill / Red, Meth & B (feat. Redman & Method Man)\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Top 100 Rap\n  duration_ms: 225384\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":6383648,"name":"Red, Meth & B","trackName":"Red, Meth & B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders","duration":225.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth & B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders\n  duration_ms: 225000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":9113707,"name":"Red, Meth & B","trackName":"Red, Meth & B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Original Album Classics","duration":225.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth & B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Original Album Classics\n  duration_ms: 225000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":13941846,"name":"Red, Meth & B","trackName":"Red, Meth & B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders","duration":211.533333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth & B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders\n  duration_ms: 211533\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":23969312,"name":"Red, Meth & B","trackName":"Red, Meth & B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"VI Stoned Raiders","duration":225.38449,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth & B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: VI Stoned Raiders\n  duration_ms: 225384\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":23661690,"name":"Red, Meth & B","trackName":"Red, Meth & B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders (SPECIAL EDITIO","duration":225.36825,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth & B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders (SPECIAL EDITIO\n  duration_ms: 225368\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":25702334,"name":"RED; METH & B","trackName":"RED; METH & B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Soned Raiders","duration":225.2928,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: RED; METH & B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Soned Raiders\n  duration_ms: 225293\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":37592660,"name":"Red, Meth & B","trackName":"Red, Meth & B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders (special edition)","duration":225.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18]Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96]Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79]Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58]We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75]Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78]Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44]A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12]Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92]We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78]I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47]I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25]Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06]My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75]Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64]My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20]Jersey and house\n[00:48.06]Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91]Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77]Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63]Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38]We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11]Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84]I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62]Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31]Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86]Yeah!\n[01:09.86]We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55]You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91]You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57]You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12]Yo, yo\n[01:27.09]Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73]You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52]I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37]So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09]If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90]Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61]Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42]Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22]My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90]Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79]Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66]I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36]Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04]I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81]Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57]Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21]Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13]Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94]Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74]With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41]They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95]I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78]You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43]You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36]Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05]Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89]Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52]Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36]You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17]You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95]That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth & B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders (special edition)\n  duration_ms: 225000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":4550502,"name":"Red, Meth and B","trackName":"Red, Meth and B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders","duration":225.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth and B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders\n  duration_ms: 225000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":774011,"name":"Red, Meth and B","trackName":"Red, Meth and B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders","duration":212.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.12] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.97] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.60] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.74] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.72] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.14] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.95] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.77] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.49] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.30] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.02] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.73] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.25] Jersey and house\n[00:48.07] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.97] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.79] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.60] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.32] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.12] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.65] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.37] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.89] Yeah!\n[01:09.81] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.52] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.97] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.50] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.03] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.74] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.56] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.24] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.95] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.77] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.61] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.32] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.03] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.84] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.28] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.20] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.91] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.72] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.43] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.96] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.77] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.49] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.31] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.01] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.82] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.57] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.38] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.10] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.90] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.74] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth and B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders\n  duration_ms: 212000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 120\n  end_ms: 970\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 970\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4600\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4600\n  end_ms: 12740\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12740\n  end_ms: 22720\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22720\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28140\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28140\n  end_ms: 29950\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29950\n  end_ms: 31770\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31770\n  end_ms: 34490\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34490\n  end_ms: 36300\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36300\n  end_ms: 39020\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39020\n  end_ms: 41730\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41730\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46250\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46250\n  end_ms: 48070\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48070\n  end_ms: 48970\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48970\n  end_ms: 50790\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50790\n  end_ms: 52600\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52600\n  end_ms: 55320\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55320\n  end_ms: 57120\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57120\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61650\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61650\n  end_ms: 64370\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64370\n  end_ms: 68890\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68890\n  end_ms: 69810\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69810\n  end_ms: 72520\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72520\n  end_ms: 77970\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77970\n  end_ms: 82500\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82500\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87030\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87030\n  end_ms: 89740\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89740\n  end_ms: 91560\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91560\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104240\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104240\n  end_ms: 106950\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106950\n  end_ms: 108770\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108770\n  end_ms: 110610\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110610\n  end_ms: 113320\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113320\n  end_ms: 116030\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116030\n  end_ms: 117840\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117840\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123280\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123280\n  end_ms: 143200\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143200\n  end_ms: 145910\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145910\n  end_ms: 147720\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147720\n  end_ms: 150430\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150430\n  end_ms: 154960\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154960\n  end_ms: 156770\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156770\n  end_ms: 159490\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159490\n  end_ms: 161310\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161310\n  end_ms: 164010\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164010\n  end_ms: 165820\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165820\n  end_ms: 168570\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168570\n  end_ms: 170380\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170380\n  end_ms: 173100\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173100\n  end_ms: 174900\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174900\n  end_ms: 214740\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214740\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":20959473,"name":"Red, Meth and B","trackName":"Red, Meth and B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders","duration":246.124175,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.12] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.97] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.60] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.74] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.72] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.14] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.95] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.77] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.49] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.30] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.02] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.73] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.25] Jersey and house\n[00:48.07] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.97] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.79] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.60] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.32] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.12] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.65] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.37] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.89] Yeah!\n[01:09.81] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.52] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.97] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.50] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.03] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.74] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.56] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.24] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.95] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.77] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.61] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.32] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.03] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.84] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.28] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.20] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.91] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.72] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.43] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.96] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.77] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.49] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.31] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.01] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.82] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.57] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.38] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.10] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.90] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.74] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth and B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders\n  duration_ms: 246124\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 120\n  end_ms: 970\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 970\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4600\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4600\n  end_ms: 12740\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12740\n  end_ms: 22720\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22720\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28140\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28140\n  end_ms: 29950\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29950\n  end_ms: 31770\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31770\n  end_ms: 34490\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34490\n  end_ms: 36300\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36300\n  end_ms: 39020\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39020\n  end_ms: 41730\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41730\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46250\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46250\n  end_ms: 48070\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48070\n  end_ms: 48970\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48970\n  end_ms: 50790\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50790\n  end_ms: 52600\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52600\n  end_ms: 55320\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55320\n  end_ms: 57120\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57120\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61650\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61650\n  end_ms: 64370\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64370\n  end_ms: 68890\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68890\n  end_ms: 69810\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69810\n  end_ms: 72520\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72520\n  end_ms: 77970\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77970\n  end_ms: 82500\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82500\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87030\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87030\n  end_ms: 89740\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89740\n  end_ms: 91560\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91560\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104240\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104240\n  end_ms: 106950\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106950\n  end_ms: 108770\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108770\n  end_ms: 110610\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110610\n  end_ms: 113320\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113320\n  end_ms: 116030\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116030\n  end_ms: 117840\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117840\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123280\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123280\n  end_ms: 143200\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143200\n  end_ms: 145910\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145910\n  end_ms: 147720\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147720\n  end_ms: 150430\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150430\n  end_ms: 154960\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154960\n  end_ms: 156770\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156770\n  end_ms: 159490\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159490\n  end_ms: 161310\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161310\n  end_ms: 164010\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164010\n  end_ms: 165820\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165820\n  end_ms: 168570\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168570\n  end_ms: 170380\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170380\n  end_ms: 173100\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173100\n  end_ms: 174900\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174900\n  end_ms: 214740\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214740\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":36342681,"name":"Red, Meth and B","trackName":"Red, Meth and B","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Baldur's Gate 3 (Original Game Soundtrack)","duration":233.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.12] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.97] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.60] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.74] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.72] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.14] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.95] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.77] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.49] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.30] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.02] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.73] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.25] Jersey and house\n[00:48.07] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.97] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.79] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.60] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.32] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.12] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.65] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.37] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.89] Yeah!\n[01:09.81] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.52] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.97] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.50] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.03] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.74] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.56] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.24] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.95] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.77] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.61] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.32] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.03] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.84] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.28] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.20] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.91] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.72] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.43] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.96] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.77] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.49] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.31] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.01] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.82] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.57] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.38] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.10] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.90] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.74] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth and B\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Baldur's Gate 3 (Original Game Soundtrack)\n  duration_ms: 233000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 120\n  end_ms: 970\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 970\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4600\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4600\n  end_ms: 12740\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12740\n  end_ms: 22720\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22720\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28140\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28140\n  end_ms: 29950\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29950\n  end_ms: 31770\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31770\n  end_ms: 34490\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34490\n  end_ms: 36300\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36300\n  end_ms: 39020\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39020\n  end_ms: 41730\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41730\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46250\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46250\n  end_ms: 48070\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48070\n  end_ms: 48970\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48970\n  end_ms: 50790\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50790\n  end_ms: 52600\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52600\n  end_ms: 55320\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55320\n  end_ms: 57120\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57120\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61650\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61650\n  end_ms: 64370\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64370\n  end_ms: 68890\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68890\n  end_ms: 69810\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69810\n  end_ms: 72520\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72520\n  end_ms: 77970\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77970\n  end_ms: 82500\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82500\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87030\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87030\n  end_ms: 89740\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89740\n  end_ms: 91560\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91560\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104240\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104240\n  end_ms: 106950\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106950\n  end_ms: 108770\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108770\n  end_ms: 110610\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110610\n  end_ms: 113320\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113320\n  end_ms: 116030\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116030\n  end_ms: 117840\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117840\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123280\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123280\n  end_ms: 143200\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143200\n  end_ms: 145910\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145910\n  end_ms: 147720\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147720\n  end_ms: 150430\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150430\n  end_ms: 154960\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154960\n  end_ms: 156770\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156770\n  end_ms: 159490\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159490\n  end_ms: 161310\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161310\n  end_ms: 164010\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164010\n  end_ms: 165820\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165820\n  end_ms: 168570\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168570\n  end_ms: 170380\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170380\n  end_ms: 173100\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173100\n  end_ms: 174900\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174900\n  end_ms: 214740\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214740\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":17200495,"name":"Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders - red, meth & b (feat. redman, method man)","trackName":"Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders - red, meth & b (feat. redman, method man)","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders","duration":225.462875,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders - red, meth & b (feat. redman, method man)\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders\n  duration_ms: 225463\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":32020196,"name":"Red, Meth & B (Featuring Redma","trackName":"Red, Meth & B (Featuring Redma","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders","duration":226.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa, I don't think so\nYeah, oh, listen to this\nWe gonna come at ya\n\nCypress Hill\nYo, yo, yo, all my niggaz say jump up\nDoc broke out the kennel\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up, it ain't no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe\nYou gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, run\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body\nWith Cypress Hill, yeah\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\nYou try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo, blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half assed like semi colon\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art\nThen let me paint a picture I'm gone\nKodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, let's be realer\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\nYou try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break off, mental breakdown\nAnd shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n'Cause you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\nYou try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\nYou try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.37] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:01.15] Ha, I don't think so\n[00:02.73] Yeah, oh, listen to this\n[00:04.52] We gonna come at ya\n[00:13.28] Cypress Hill\n[00:22.40] Yo, yo, yo, all my niggaz say jump up\n[00:24.60] Doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.84] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.27] Jump up, it ain't no need to fight\n[00:30.27] We may squeeze the pipe\n[00:31.39] You gonna bleed tonight\n[00:32.52] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.99] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:37.39] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.57] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.74] Home grown, thick, dirty\n[00:43.44] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.34] Jersey and house\n[00:47.88] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:49.46] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.99] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.99] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.54] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.67] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[01:00.00] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.88] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, run\n[01:05.09] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body\n[01:07.61] With Cypress Hill, yeah\n[01:09.28] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:13.70] You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:18.16] You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.84] You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.85] Yo, yo, blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.58] You either holdin' or half assed like semi colon\n[01:31.88] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:34.15] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.37] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:38.68] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.79] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.73] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.93] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:47.38] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:49.56] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:51.02] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.38] Meth the mister, if crime is an art\n[01:55.13] Then let me paint a picture I'm gone\n[01:57.07] Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:58.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:01.07] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, let's be realer\n[02:03.44] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[02:08.07] You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n[02:12.57] You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[02:17.01] You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n[02:21.29] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.14] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:26.23] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:28.37] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:31.02] They go on the break off, mental breakdown\n[02:33.83] And shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:35.05] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:37.54] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.49] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.70] 'Cause you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.20] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:46.46] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.66] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.63] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one\n[02:53.04] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:55.44] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[02:57.73] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[03:02.37] You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n[03:06.88] You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[03:11.40] You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n[03:15.84] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[03:20.40] You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n[03:24.87] You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[03:29.57] You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n[03:34.48] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth & B (Featuring Redma\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders\n  duration_ms: 226000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 370\n  end_ms: 1150\n- text: Ha, I don't think so\n  start_ms: 1150\n  end_ms: 2730\n- text: Yeah, oh, listen to this\n  start_ms: 2730\n  end_ms: 4520\n- text: We gonna come at ya\n  start_ms: 4520\n  end_ms: 13280\n- text: Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 13280\n  end_ms: 22400\n- text: Yo, yo, yo, all my niggaz say jump up\n  start_ms: 22400\n  end_ms: 24600\n- text: Doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 24600\n  end_ms: 25840\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25840\n  end_ms: 28270\n- text: Jump up, it ain't no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28270\n  end_ms: 30270\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe\n  start_ms: 30270\n  end_ms: 31390\n- text: You gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 31390\n  end_ms: 32520\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 32520\n  end_ms: 34990\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34990\n  end_ms: 37390\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 37390\n  end_ms: 39570\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39570\n  end_ms: 41740\n- text: Home grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41740\n  end_ms: 43440\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 43440\n  end_ms: 46340\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46340\n  end_ms: 47880\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 47880\n  end_ms: 49460\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 49460\n  end_ms: 50990\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50990\n  end_ms: 52990\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52990\n  end_ms: 55540\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55540\n  end_ms: 57670\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57670\n  end_ms: 60000\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 60000\n  end_ms: 61880\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, run\n  start_ms: 61880\n  end_ms: 65090\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body\n  start_ms: 65090\n  end_ms: 67610\n- text: With Cypress Hill, yeah\n  start_ms: 67610\n  end_ms: 69280\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69280\n  end_ms: 73700\n- text: You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 73700\n  end_ms: 78160\n- text: You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 78160\n  end_ms: 82840\n- text: You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82840\n  end_ms: 86850\n- text: Yo, yo, blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 86850\n  end_ms: 89580\n- text: You either holdin' or half assed like semi colon\n  start_ms: 89580\n  end_ms: 91880\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91880\n  end_ms: 94150\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 94150\n  end_ms: 96370\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96370\n  end_ms: 98680\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 98680\n  end_ms: 100790\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100790\n  end_ms: 102730\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102730\n  end_ms: 104930\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104930\n  end_ms: 107380\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 107380\n  end_ms: 109560\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 109560\n  end_ms: 111020\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 111020\n  end_ms: 113380\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art\n  start_ms: 113380\n  end_ms: 115130\n- text: Then let me paint a picture I'm gone\n  start_ms: 115130\n  end_ms: 117070\n- text: Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 117070\n  end_ms: 118810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 118810\n  end_ms: 121070\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, let's be realer\n  start_ms: 121070\n  end_ms: 123440\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 123440\n  end_ms: 128070\n- text: You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 128070\n  end_ms: 132570\n- text: You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 132570\n  end_ms: 137010\n- text: You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 137010\n  end_ms: 141290\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 141290\n  end_ms: 143140\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143140\n  end_ms: 146230\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 146230\n  end_ms: 148370\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 148370\n  end_ms: 151020\n- text: They go on the break off, mental breakdown\n  start_ms: 151020\n  end_ms: 153830\n- text: And shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 153830\n  end_ms: 155050\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 155050\n  end_ms: 157540\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 157540\n  end_ms: 159490\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159490\n  end_ms: 161700\n- text: '''Cause you couldn''t hang with the John Blaze methods'\n  start_ms: 161700\n  end_ms: 164200\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164200\n  end_ms: 166460\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 166460\n  end_ms: 168660\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168660\n  end_ms: 170630\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one\n  start_ms: 170630\n  end_ms: 173040\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173040\n  end_ms: 175440\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 175440\n  end_ms: 177730\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 177730\n  end_ms: 182370\n- text: You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 182370\n  end_ms: 186880\n- text: You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 186880\n  end_ms: 191400\n- text: You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 191400\n  end_ms: 195840\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 195840\n  end_ms: 200400\n- text: You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 200400\n  end_ms: 204870\n- text: You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 204870\n  end_ms: 209570\n- text: You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 209570\n  end_ms: 214480\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214480\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha, I don't think so\n  Yeah, oh, listen to this\n  We gonna come at ya\n\n  Cypress Hill\n  Yo, yo, yo, all my niggaz say jump up\n  Doc broke out the kennel\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up, it ain't no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe\n  You gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, run\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body\n  With Cypress Hill, yeah\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo, blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half assed like semi colon\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art\n  Then let me paint a picture I'm gone\n  Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, let's be realer\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break off, mental breakdown\n  And shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  'Cause you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us but you got no blunts to get high\n"},{"id":15560275,"name":"Red, Meth & B (Explicit Version)","trackName":"Red, Meth & B (Explicit Version)","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Original Album Classics","duration":225.333333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth & B (Explicit Version)\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Original Album Classics\n  duration_ms: 225333\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":27807282,"name":"Red, Meth & B (Explicit Version)","trackName":"Red, Meth & B (Explicit Version)","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders","duration":225.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so!\nYeah! Oh, listen to this!\nWe gonna come at ya!\n\nCypress Hill!\nYo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It aint no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house\nGun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo\nBlunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\nMy mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\nCos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.18] Y'all ready for this?\n[00:00.96] Ha! I don't think so!\n[00:02.79] Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n[00:04.58] We gonna come at ya!\n[00:12.75] Cypress Hill!\n[00:22.78] Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n[00:25.44] A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n[00:28.12] Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n[00:29.92] We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n[00:31.78] I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n[00:34.47] I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n[00:36.25] Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n[00:39.06] My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n[00:41.75] Home-grown, thick, dirty\n[00:42.64] My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n[00:46.20] Jersey and house\n[00:48.06] Gun like an elephants snout\n[00:48.91] Pull ya ambulance out\n[00:50.77] Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n[00:52.63] Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n[00:55.38] We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n[00:57.11] Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n[00:59.84] I won't leave till the job is done\n[01:01.62] Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n[01:04.31] Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n[01:08.86] Yeah!\n[01:09.86] We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n[01:12.55] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:17.91] You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n[01:22.57] You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n[01:26.12] Yo, yo\n[01:27.09] Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n[01:29.73] You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n[01:31.52] I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n[01:33.37] So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n[01:36.09] If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n[01:37.90] Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n[01:40.61] Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n[01:42.42] Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n[01:44.22] My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n[01:46.90] Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n[01:48.79] Now who's hot and who's not\n[01:50.66] I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n[01:53.36] Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n[01:56.04] I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n[01:57.81] Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n[02:00.57] Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n[02:03.21] Take the back seat and smash beats\n[02:23.13] Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n[02:25.94] Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n[02:27.74] With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n[02:30.41] They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n[02:34.95] I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n[02:36.78] You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n[02:39.43] You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n[02:41.36] Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n[02:44.05] Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n[02:45.89] Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n[02:48.52] Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n[02:50.36] You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n[02:53.17] You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n[02:54.95] That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n[03:34.76] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth & B (Explicit Version)\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders\n  duration_ms: 225000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Y'all ready for this?\n  start_ms: 180\n  end_ms: 960\n- text: Ha! I don't think so!\n  start_ms: 960\n  end_ms: 2790\n- text: Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  start_ms: 2790\n  end_ms: 4580\n- text: We gonna come at ya!\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 12750\n- text: Cypress Hill!\n  start_ms: 12750\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 25440\n- text: A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  start_ms: 25440\n  end_ms: 28120\n- text: Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  start_ms: 28120\n  end_ms: 29920\n- text: We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  start_ms: 29920\n  end_ms: 31780\n- text: I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  start_ms: 31780\n  end_ms: 34470\n- text: I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  start_ms: 34470\n  end_ms: 36250\n- text: Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  start_ms: 36250\n  end_ms: 39060\n- text: My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  start_ms: 39060\n  end_ms: 41750\n- text: Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  start_ms: 41750\n  end_ms: 42640\n- text: My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  start_ms: 42640\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Jersey and house\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48060\n- text: Gun like an elephants snout\n  start_ms: 48060\n  end_ms: 48910\n- text: Pull ya ambulance out\n  start_ms: 48910\n  end_ms: 50770\n- text: Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  start_ms: 50770\n  end_ms: 52630\n- text: Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  start_ms: 52630\n  end_ms: 55380\n- text: We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  start_ms: 55380\n  end_ms: 57110\n- text: Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  start_ms: 57110\n  end_ms: 59840\n- text: I won't leave till the job is done\n  start_ms: 59840\n  end_ms: 61620\n- text: Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  start_ms: 61620\n  end_ms: 64310\n- text: Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 64310\n  end_ms: 68860\n- text: Yeah!\n  start_ms: 68860\n  end_ms: 69860\n- text: We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  start_ms: 69860\n  end_ms: 72550\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 72550\n  end_ms: 77910\n- text: You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  start_ms: 77910\n  end_ms: 82570\n- text: You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  start_ms: 82570\n  end_ms: 86120\n- text: Yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86120\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 89730\n- text: You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  start_ms: 89730\n  end_ms: 91520\n- text: I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  start_ms: 91520\n  end_ms: 93370\n- text: So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  start_ms: 93370\n  end_ms: 96090\n- text: If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  start_ms: 96090\n  end_ms: 97900\n- text: Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  start_ms: 97900\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 102420\n- text: Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  start_ms: 102420\n  end_ms: 104220\n- text: My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  start_ms: 104220\n  end_ms: 106900\n- text: Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  start_ms: 106900\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Now who's hot and who's not\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 110660\n- text: I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  start_ms: 110660\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116040\n- text: I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  start_ms: 116040\n  end_ms: 117810\n- text: Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  start_ms: 117810\n  end_ms: 120570\n- text: Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n  start_ms: 120570\n  end_ms: 123210\n- text: Take the back seat and smash beats\n  start_ms: 123210\n  end_ms: 143130\n- text: Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  start_ms: 143130\n  end_ms: 145940\n- text: Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  start_ms: 145940\n  end_ms: 147740\n- text: With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  start_ms: 147740\n  end_ms: 150410\n- text: They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  start_ms: 150410\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 159430\n- text: You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  start_ms: 159430\n  end_ms: 161360\n- text: Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  start_ms: 161360\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 165890\n- text: Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  start_ms: 165890\n  end_ms: 168520\n- text: Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  start_ms: 168520\n  end_ms: 170360\n- text: You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  start_ms: 170360\n  end_ms: 173170\n- text: You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  start_ms: 173170\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214760\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so!\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this!\n  We gonna come at ya!\n\n  Cypress Hill!\n  Yo yo yo - all my niggas say jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It aint no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house\n  Gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target, and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, RUN\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo\n  Blunt smokin', half a bottle of remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like Simmy Colan\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n  My mind is my glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, lets be realer\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown and shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  Cos you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, glock clickin', stop shittin'\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one (ha!)\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n"},{"id":13819213,"name":"Red, Meth & B","trackName":"Red, Meth & B","artistName":"Method Man, Redman & Cypress Hill","albumName":"Stoned Raiders / Til Death Do Us Part","duration":225.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Y'all ready for this?\nHa! I don't think so\nYeah! Oh, listen to this\nWe gonna come at ya\n\nYo yo yo, all my niggas say, jump up, doc broke out the kennel\nA dog on four paws spittin' out the window\nJump up! It ain't no need to fight\nWe may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n\nI eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\nI walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\nDoctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\nMy bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n\nHome-grown, thick, dirty\nMy family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\nJersey and house gun like an elephants snout\nPull ya ambulance out\n\nYa whole team'll get bombarded\nYa on target and bombed by some unsigned artists\nWe leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\nCut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n\nI won't leave till the job is done\nTill the last prick nigga take ya wallet, run\nDoc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\nYeah!\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nYo, yo, blunt smokin', half a bottle of Remi open\nYou either holdin' or half-assed like semi-colon\nI leave ya chokin' on them lollipop, rhymes ya callin'\nSo hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n\nIf the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\nEver since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\nYa know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\nPlus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n\nMy mind is my Glock, keep my third eye cocked\nBust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\nNow who's hot and who's not\nI want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n\nMeth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\nI'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\nGold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\nWhoever think they fuckin' with that, let's be realer\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nTake the back seat and smash beats\nSmoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\nRun a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\nWith the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n\nThey go on the break-off, mental breakdown\nAnd shit you wouldn't think of\nI spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\nYou wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n\nYou twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n'Cause you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\nBong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\nStar stricken, Glock clickin', stop shittin'\n\nInhale the smoke from the master's lungs\nYou wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one\nYou wanna test with the sess, well first off\nThat shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\nWe don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\nYou won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\nYou try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red, Meth & B\n  artist: Method Man, Redman & Cypress Hill\n  album: Stoned Raiders / Til Death Do Us Part\n  duration_ms: 225000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Y'all ready for this?\n  Ha! I don't think so\n  Yeah! Oh, listen to this\n  We gonna come at ya\n\n  Yo yo yo, all my niggas say, jump up, doc broke out the kennel\n  A dog on four paws spittin' out the window\n  Jump up! It ain't no need to fight\n  We may squeeze the pipe, you gonna bleed tonight\n\n  I eat beans and rice, shit up a storm\n  I walk the streets with shark fin off my arms\n  Doctor Dolittle, lit off the bone\n  My bracelet like I raised it off the farm\n\n  Home-grown, thick, dirty\n  My family feud dudes who pack 2's on survey\n  Jersey and house gun like an elephants snout\n  Pull ya ambulance out\n\n  Ya whole team'll get bombarded\n  Ya on target and bombed by some unsigned artists\n  We leave ya hair cut like a blind barber\n  Cut it, and gave you a line with fine markers\n\n  I won't leave till the job is done\n  Till the last prick nigga take ya wallet, run\n  Doc with the shotty and we both catch a body with Cypress Hill\n  Yeah!\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Yo, yo, blunt smokin', half a bottle of Remi open\n  You either holdin' or half-assed like semi-colon\n  I leave ya chokin' on them lollipop, rhymes ya callin'\n  So hard, hell I crack the shell on ya candy coatin'\n\n  If the shoes fit like Alan I be too thick\n  Ever since you hit, yo my new chicks a new bitch\n  Ya know if I can't eat, ya can't sleep\n  Plus I'm in denial, I just can't admit defeat\n\n  My mind is my Glock, keep my third eye cocked\n  Bust mines off tops, leave a rapper's nerves shocked\n  Now who's hot and who's not\n  I want them rocks and that money in ya two socks\n\n  Meth the mister, if crime is an art, then let me paint a picture\n  I'm gone, Kodak can't even frame the riddler\n  Gold realin', Meth, doc, Cypress Hiller\n  Whoever think they fuckin' with that, let's be realer\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  Take the back seat and smash beats\n  Smoke blunts through ya lungs and flips ya brain cells like athletes\n  Run a track meet, the rhymes on ya rap sheet\n  With the foot long crush bong, look your collapsing, sicko\n\n  They go on the break-off, mental breakdown\n  And shit you wouldn't think of\n  I spread it to Reggie, chances are better but deadly\n  You wanna be friendly on the get high Bentley\n\n  You twisted up, burnt out within seconds\n  'Cause you couldn't hang with the John Blaze methods\n  Bong hittin', doc spittin', shark bitten\n  Star stricken, Glock clickin', stop shittin'\n\n  Inhale the smoke from the master's lungs\n  You wanna roll up, yo I'm the fastest one\n  You wanna test with the sess, well first off\n  That shit is funny like Kid Rock with his shirt off\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n\n  We don't give a fuck, we live it up till the day we die\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n  You won't be real with us, but ya reelin' us and you want to ride\n  You try to deal with us, but you got no blunts to get high\n"}]