[{"id":38565561,"name":"Throw Your Hards In The Air (Clean)","trackName":"Throw Your Hards In The Air (Clean)","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","duration":249.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nfinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nis what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nindividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nin your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.50] Yeah\n[00:04.09] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.16] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.56] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.64] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.01] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.77] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.01] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.55] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.44] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.01] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.75] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.18] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.13] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.36] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.05] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.49] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.92] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.86] I gets real determined\n[00:48.77] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.46] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.20] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.97] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.43] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.60] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.27] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.05] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.93] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.40] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.65] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.11] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.31] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.56] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.68] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.29] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.77] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.83] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.41] Chorus\n[01:52.48] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.30] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.45] finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.55] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.85] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.25] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.69] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.12] is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.92] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.13] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.18] individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.13] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.91] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.42] in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.03] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.57] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.85] Chorus\n[02:46.89] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.23] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.47] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.86] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.65] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.35] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.04] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.50] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.36] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.97] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.41] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.68] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.61] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.63] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.61] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.17] Chorus\n[03:40.59] Chorus\n[03:49.19] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.39] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.32] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.33] All the alleyways\n[03:56.98] For all our decesed\n[03:58.45] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.54] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.50] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hards In The Air (Clean)\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Throw Your Hands In The Air\n  duration_ms: 249000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3500\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3500\n  end_ms: 4090\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4090\n  end_ms: 5160\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5160\n  end_ms: 6560\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6560\n  end_ms: 9640\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9640\n  end_ms: 11010\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11010\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 13010\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13010\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18550\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18550\n  end_ms: 21440\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21440\n  end_ms: 24010\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24010\n  end_ms: 26750\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26750\n  end_ms: 29180\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29180\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35360\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35360\n  end_ms: 38050\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38050\n  end_ms: 40490\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40490\n  end_ms: 42920\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42920\n  end_ms: 46860\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46860\n  end_ms: 48770\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48770\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53460\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53460\n  end_ms: 56200\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56200\n  end_ms: 58970\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58970\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61600\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61600\n  end_ms: 64270\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64270\n  end_ms: 67050\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67050\n  end_ms: 69930\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 75650\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75650\n  end_ms: 78110\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78110\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83310\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83310\n  end_ms: 86560\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86560\n  end_ms: 88680\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88680\n  end_ms: 91290\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91290\n  end_ms: 91770\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91770\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96830\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96830\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 112480\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112480\n  end_ms: 113300\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113300\n  end_ms: 118450\n- text: finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118450\n  end_ms: 121550\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121550\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 131250\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131250\n  end_ms: 132690\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132690\n  end_ms: 133120\n- text: is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133120\n  end_ms: 134920\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134920\n  end_ms: 136130\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136130\n  end_ms: 138180\n- text: individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138180\n  end_ms: 140130\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140130\n  end_ms: 142910\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142910\n  end_ms: 145420\n- text: in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145420\n  end_ms: 148030\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148030\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153570\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153570\n  end_ms: 155850\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155850\n  end_ms: 166890\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166890\n  end_ms: 167230\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167230\n  end_ms: 169470\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169470\n  end_ms: 171860\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171860\n  end_ms: 175650\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175650\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 183040\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183040\n  end_ms: 185500\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185500\n  end_ms: 188360\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188360\n  end_ms: 190970\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190970\n  end_ms: 193410\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193410\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201610\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201610\n  end_ms: 204630\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204630\n  end_ms: 207610\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207610\n  end_ms: 210170\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210170\n  end_ms: 220590\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220590\n  end_ms: 229190\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229190\n  end_ms: 231390\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231390\n  end_ms: 233320\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233320\n  end_ms: 235330\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235330\n  end_ms: 236980\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236980\n  end_ms: 238450\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238450\n  end_ms: 241540\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241540\n  end_ms: 244500\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244500\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":9866036,"name":"Throw Your Hands in the Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands in the Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped","duration":248.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nfinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nis what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nindividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nin your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.50] Yeah\n[00:04.09] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.16] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.56] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.64] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.01] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.77] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.01] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.55] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.44] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.01] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.75] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.18] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.13] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.36] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.05] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.49] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.92] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.86] I gets real determined\n[00:48.77] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.46] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.20] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.97] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.43] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.60] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.27] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.05] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.93] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.40] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.65] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.11] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.31] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.56] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.68] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.29] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.77] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.83] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.41] Chorus\n[01:52.48] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.30] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.45] finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.55] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.85] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.25] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.69] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.12] is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.92] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.13] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.18] individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.13] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.91] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.42] in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.03] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.57] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.85] Chorus\n[02:46.89] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.23] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.47] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.86] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.65] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.35] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.04] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.50] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.36] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.97] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.41] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.68] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.61] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.63] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.61] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.17] Chorus\n[03:40.59] Chorus\n[03:49.19] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.39] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.32] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.33] All the alleyways\n[03:56.98] For all our decesed\n[03:58.45] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.54] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.50] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands in the Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped\n  duration_ms: 248000\n  instrumental: false\n  language: en\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 870\n  end_ms: 1410\n  words:\n  - text: 'Intro: '\n    start_ms: 870\n  - text: 'Sen '\n    start_ms: 1410\n  - text: Dog\n    start_ms: 1410\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 1910\n  end_ms: 1910\n  words:\n  - text: Yeah\n    start_ms: 1910\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 1950\n  end_ms: 5030\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bust '\n    start_ms: 1950\n  - text: 'how '\n    start_ms: 2150\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 2390\n  - text: 'gonna '\n    start_ms: 2510\n  - text: 'bounce '\n    start_ms: 2770\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 3110\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 3290\n  - text: ninety-\n    start_ms: 3510\n  - text: 'five '\n    start_ms: 3830\n  - text: 'Soul '\n    start_ms: 4210\n  - text: Assassins\n    start_ms: 4450\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5090\n  end_ms: 6110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Cypress '\n    start_ms: 5090\n  - text: 'Hill '\n    start_ms: 5530\n  - text: joint.\n    start_ms: 5850\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6630\n  end_ms: 9290\n  words:\n  - text: 'Yo '\n    start_ms: 6630\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 6810\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 6970\n  - text: 'everybody '\n    start_ms: 7190\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 7730\n  - text: 'there '\n    start_ms: 7970\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 8210\n  - text: 'throw '\n    start_ms: 8350\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 8570\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 8710\n  - text: up...\n    start_ms: 9170\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 10730\n  words:\n  - text: '...so '\n    start_ms: 9730\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 9910\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 10110\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 10270\n  - text: kid!\n    start_ms: 10570\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 10750\n  end_ms: 10750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 10750\n  - text: 'One: '\n    start_ms: 10750\n  - text: 'Erick '\n    start_ms: 10750\n  - text: Sermon\n    start_ms: 10750\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 10860\n  end_ms: 14100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fresh '\n    start_ms: 10860\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 11260\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 11420\n  - text: 'word, '\n    start_ms: 11600\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 12080\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 12300\n  - text: 'display '\n    start_ms: 12460\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 13040\n  - text: 'rappin '\n    start_ms: 13240\n  - text: forte\n    start_ms: 13680\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 14210\n  end_ms: 16110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Quicker '\n    start_ms: 14210\n  - text: 'done '\n    start_ms: 14610\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 14950\n  - text: O.\n    start_ms: 15310\n  - text: 'J., '\n    start_ms: 15590\n  - text: hey\n    start_ms: 15990\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 18700\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 16380\n  - text: 'freaks '\n    start_ms: 16500\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 16780\n  - text: 'shit, '\n    start_ms: 16980\n  - text: 'E '\n    start_ms: 17540\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 17820\n  - text: 'lyrical '\n    start_ms: 17920\n  - text: master\n    start_ms: 18320\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18780\n  end_ms: 21420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Stress '\n    start_ms: 18780\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 19140\n  - text: 'out, '\n    start_ms: 19380\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 19680\n  - text: 'doubt, '\n    start_ms: 19900\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 20260\n  - text: 'might '\n    start_ms: 20340\n  - text: 'have '\n    start_ms: 20620\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 20840\n  - text: 'blast '\n    start_ms: 21000\n  - text: ya\n    start_ms: 21360\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 23990\n  words:\n  - text: 'Let '\n    start_ms: 21490\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 21750\n  - text: 'ask '\n    start_ms: 22050\n  - text: 'ya, '\n    start_ms: 22310\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 22550\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 22710\n  - text: 'gets '\n    start_ms: 22810\n  - text: 'busy '\n    start_ms: 23010\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 23390\n  - text: time?\n    start_ms: 23690\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24110\n  end_ms: 26550\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 24110\n  - text: 'unwind '\n    start_ms: 24330\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 24890\n  - text: 'chill, '\n    start_ms: 25130\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 25630\n  - text: 'Cypress '\n    start_ms: 25830\n  - text: Hill\n    start_ms: 26350\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26800\n  end_ms: 29080\n  words:\n  - text: 'Huh, '\n    start_ms: 26800\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 27180\n  - text: 'go '\n    start_ms: 27280\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 27580\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 28000\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 28160\n  - text: 'bad '\n    start_ms: 28380\n  - text: self\n    start_ms: 28840\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29420\n  end_ms: 32100\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 29420\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 29540\n  - text: 'four '\n    start_ms: 29740\n  - text: 'pound '\n    start_ms: 30080\n  - text: 'toter, '\n    start_ms: 30420\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 30920\n  - text: 'Phil '\n    start_ms: 31080\n  - text: 'blunt '\n    start_ms: 31420\n  - text: smoker\n    start_ms: 31760\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32690\n  end_ms: 35370\n  words:\n  - text: 'Believe '\n    start_ms: 32690\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 33150\n  - text: 'not, '\n    start_ms: 33370\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 33750\n  - text: 'wicked '\n    start_ms: 33870\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 34190\n  - text: 'three '\n    start_ms: 34490\n  - text: sixes\n    start_ms: 34870\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35660\n  end_ms: 37800\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 35660\n  - text: 'doper '\n    start_ms: 35820\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 36140\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 36320\n  - text: 'Pete '\n    start_ms: 36520\n  - text: 'Rock '\n    start_ms: 36840\n  - text: remixes\n    start_ms: 37180\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38420\n  end_ms: 40100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Never '\n    start_ms: 38420\n  - text: 'walk '\n    start_ms: 38800\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 39060\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 39260\n  - text: 'crowd '\n    start_ms: 39420\n  - text: sluggish\n    start_ms: 39760\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40330\n  end_ms: 42810\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 40330\n  - text: 'hardcore '\n    start_ms: 40490\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 41110\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 41290\n  - text: 'Bone, '\n    start_ms: 41470\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 41970\n  - text: 'Thuggish '\n    start_ms: 42090\n  - text: Ruggish\n    start_ms: 42510\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 43050\n  end_ms: 46830\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 43050\n  - text: Green-\n    start_ms: 43210\n  - text: 'Eyed, '\n    start_ms: 43570\n  - text: 'Bandit, '\n    start_ms: 44210\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 44930\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 45050\n  - text: 'ERRRICK '\n    start_ms: 45330\n  - text: SERRRMON\n    start_ms: 45930\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 47100\n  end_ms: 48180\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 47100\n  - text: 'gets '\n    start_ms: 47200\n  - text: 'real '\n    start_ms: 47420\n  - text: determined\n    start_ms: 47660\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48410\n  end_ms: 50870\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 48410\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 48610\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 48890\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 49050\n  - text: 'trouble, '\n    start_ms: 49250\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 49770\n  - text: 'two '\n    start_ms: 49970\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 50250\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 50450\n  - text: bass\n    start_ms: 50630\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 51140\n  end_ms: 53520\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 51140\n  - text: 'take '\n    start_ms: 51260\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 51420\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 51560\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 51740\n  - text: 'face '\n    start_ms: 51940\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 52280\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 52440\n  - text: 'here '\n    start_ms: 52640\n  - text: 'lyrical '\n    start_ms: 52800\n  - text: mace\n    start_ms: 53300\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53800\n  end_ms: 56240\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 53800\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 53940\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 54120\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 54320\n  - text: 'know, '\n    start_ms: 54640\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 54960\n  - text: 'better '\n    start_ms: 55280\n  - text: recognize\n    start_ms: 55620\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56440\n  end_ms: 58900\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 56440\n  - text: 'coming '\n    start_ms: 56620\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 56940\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 57120\n  - text: 'speed, '\n    start_ms: 57400\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 58020\n  - text: 'pounds '\n    start_ms: 58240\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 58580\n  - text: weed\n    start_ms: 58720\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58920\n  end_ms: 59040\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 58920\n  - text: 'Two: '\n    start_ms: 58959\n  - text: B-\n    start_ms: 58999\n  - text: Real\n    start_ms: 59019\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59470\n  end_ms: 61470\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ahh '\n    start_ms: 59470\n  - text: 'shit, '\n    start_ms: 59500\n  - text: 'another '\n    start_ms: 59530\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 60050\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 60230\n  - text: 'those '\n    start_ms: 60370\n  - text: 'gangsta '\n    start_ms: 60690\n  - text: hits\n    start_ms: 61210\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61710\n  end_ms: 64109\n  words:\n  - text: 'Niggaz '\n    start_ms: 61710\n  - text: 'wanna '\n    start_ms: 62050\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 62410\n  - text: 'busy '\n    start_ms: 62690\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 63050\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 63250\n  - text: ultimate\n    start_ms: 63470\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64330\n  end_ms: 66750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fools '\n    start_ms: 64330\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 64690\n  - text: 'real, '\n    start_ms: 65030\n  - text: 'yo '\n    start_ms: 65350\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 65550\n  - text: 'representin '\n    start_ms: 65690\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 66350\n  - text: Hill\n    start_ms: 66550\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67030\n  end_ms: 69630\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 67030\n  - text: 'chips '\n    start_ms: 67350\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 67690\n  - text: 'clips '\n    start_ms: 67970\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 68310\n  - text: 'tons '\n    start_ms: 68550\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 68850\n  - text: 'blue '\n    start_ms: 68990\n  - text: steel\n    start_ms: 69350\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 72410\n  words:\n  - text: 'So '\n    start_ms: 69930\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 70110\n  - text: 'wants '\n    start_ms: 70330\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 70630\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 70810\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 71090\n  - text: 'first '\n    start_ms: 71270\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 71610\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 71910\n  - text: die?\n    start_ms: 72130\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72410\n  end_ms: 75070\n  words:\n  - text: 'Then '\n    start_ms: 72410\n  - text: 'try '\n    start_ms: 72630\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 72930\n  - text: 'test '\n    start_ms: 73130\n  - text: 'this, '\n    start_ms: 73450\n  - text: 'buddha '\n    start_ms: 73790\n  - text: 'blessed '\n    start_ms: 74150\n  - text: Gemini\n    start_ms: 74490\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75850\n  end_ms: 77990\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 75850\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 76010\n  - text: 'thrown '\n    start_ms: 76150\n  - text: 'sent '\n    start_ms: 76550\n  - text: 'home '\n    start_ms: 76870\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 77230\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 77390\n  - text: coffin\n    start_ms: 77550\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78180\n  end_ms: 80680\n  words:\n  - text: 'Punk '\n    start_ms: 78180\n  - text: 'stuff '\n    start_ms: 78480\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 78760\n  - text: 'make '\n    start_ms: 78840\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 79100\n  - text: 'back, '\n    start_ms: 79360\n  - text: 'very '\n    start_ms: 79820\n  - text: often\n    start_ms: 80240\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 81000\n  end_ms: 83200\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 81000\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 81140\n  - text: 'Erick '\n    start_ms: 81520\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 81800\n  - text: 'take '\n    start_ms: 82020\n  - text: 'care '\n    start_ms: 82300\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 82540\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 82660\n  - text: Sermon\n    start_ms: 82860\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83580\n  end_ms: 86060\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ashes '\n    start_ms: 83580\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 84040\n  - text: 'ashes, '\n    start_ms: 84280\n  - text: 'dust, '\n    start_ms: 84720\n  - text: 'bodies '\n    start_ms: 85220\n  - text: burnin\n    start_ms: 85700\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86580\n  end_ms: 88720\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bustin '\n    start_ms: 86580\n  - text: 'open '\n    start_ms: 87020\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 87300\n  - text: 'doors '\n    start_ms: 87500\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 87960\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 88140\n  - text: temple\n    start_ms: 88360\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88950\n  end_ms: 94270\n  words:\n  - text: 'Takin '\n    start_ms: 88950\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 89370\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 89610\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 89830\n  - text: 'dark '\n    start_ms: 90010\n  - text: 'side '\n    start_ms: 90370\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 90650\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 90890\n  - text: mental\n    start_ms: 91070\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 101340\n  end_ms: 101580\n  words:\n  - text: 'Chorus: '\n    start_ms: 101340\n  - text: B-\n    start_ms: 101486\n  - text: Real\n    start_ms: 101533\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 102290\n  end_ms: 105340\n  words:\n  - text: 'Kickin '\n    start_ms: 102290\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 102627\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 102765\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 102944\n  - text: 'brothers '\n    start_ms: 103102\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 103498\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 103637\n  - text: 'corners, '\n    start_ms: 103815\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 104488\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 104647\n  - text: alleys\n    start_ms: 104865\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 105340\n  end_ms: 106560\n  words:\n  - text: 'Throw '\n    start_ms: 105340\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 105600\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 105740\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 106120\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 106260\n  - text: air\n    start_ms: 106400\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 107510\n  end_ms: 110590\n  words:\n  - text: 'Kickin '\n    start_ms: 107510\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 107850\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 108010\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 108190\n  - text: 'brothers '\n    start_ms: 108350\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 108750\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 108890\n  - text: 'corners, '\n    start_ms: 109070\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 109730\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 109910\n  - text: alleys\n    start_ms: 110130\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 110790\n  end_ms: 112110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Throw '\n    start_ms: 110790\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 111030\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 111250\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 111590\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 111770\n  - text: air\n    start_ms: 111970\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 112650\n  end_ms: 112650\n  words:\n  - text: Chorus\n    start_ms: 112650\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112650\n  end_ms: 112650\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 112650\n  - text: 'Three: '\n    start_ms: 112650\n  - text: Redman\n    start_ms: 112650\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 112650\n  end_ms: 115530\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 112650\n  - text: 'rhyme '\n    start_ms: 112810\n  - text: 'tricky, '\n    start_ms: 113130\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 113630\n  - text: 'sticky '\n    start_ms: 113810\n  - text: 'smoka '\n    start_ms: 114210\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 114590\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 114770\n  - text: 'mind '\n    start_ms: 114930\n  - text: itchy\n    start_ms: 115250\n- text: finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 115740\n  end_ms: 118060\n  words:\n  - text: 'finger '\n    start_ms: 115740\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 116080\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 116280\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 116400\n  - text: 'pen, '\n    start_ms: 116580\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 116840\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 116980\n  - text: '\"He '\n    start_ms: 117210\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 117340\n  - text: 'bomb, '\n    start_ms: 117540\n  - text: dicky!\"\n    start_ms: 117880\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 118380\n  end_ms: 120960\n  words:\n  - text: 'These '\n    start_ms: 118380\n  - text: off-\n    start_ms: 118660\n  - text: 'keys '\n    start_ms: 118880\n  - text: 'MC''s '\n    start_ms: 119180\n  - text: 'hawk '\n    start_ms: 119560\n  - text: 'me, '\n    start_ms: 119840\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 120120\n  - text: 'won''t '\n    start_ms: 120280\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 120460\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 120660\n  - text: me\n    start_ms: 120880\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 121140\n  end_ms: 123920\n  words:\n  - text: 'So '\n    start_ms: 121140\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 121360\n  - text: 'kill '\n    start_ms: 121480\n  - text: 'em '\n    start_ms: 121640\n  - text: 'softly '\n    start_ms: 121840\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 122280\n  - text: 'use '\n    start_ms: 122440\n  - text: 'em '\n    start_ms: 122620\n  - text: 'as '\n    start_ms: 122760\n  - text: 'walkie '\n    start_ms: 122940\n  - text: 'talkies '\n    start_ms: 123340\n  - text: '*bzzzzt*'\n    start_ms: 123780\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 124180\n  end_ms: 126280\n  words:\n  - text: 'Turn '\n    start_ms: 124180\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 124420\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 124540\n  - text: 'level '\n    start_ms: 124700\n  - text: 'adjust '\n    start_ms: 125000\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 125460\n  - text: 'voice '\n    start_ms: 125680\n  - text: pitch\n    start_ms: 126040\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 126540\n  end_ms: 129100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hoist '\n    start_ms: 126540\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 126920\n  - text: 'diagnosis, '\n    start_ms: 127180\n  - text: comatosis\n    start_ms: 128320\n- text: is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 129150\n  end_ms: 132191\n  words:\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 129150\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 129311\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 129531\n  - text: 'leave '\n    start_ms: 129631\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 129811\n  - text: 'crew '\n    start_ms: 130011\n  - text: 'with, '\n    start_ms: 130231\n  - text: 'boom '\n    start_ms: 130571\n  - text: 'bip '\n    start_ms: 130831\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 131050\n  - text: 'some '\n    start_ms: 131211\n  - text: 'two '\n    start_ms: 131431\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 131571\n  - text: 'two '\n    start_ms: 131771\n  - text: shit\n    start_ms: 132051\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 132490\n  end_ms: 134590\n  words:\n  - text: 'Raw '\n    start_ms: 132490\n  - text: 'silk, '\n    start_ms: 132810\n  - text: 'cuz '\n    start_ms: 133070\n  - text: 'YOU '\n    start_ms: 133270\n  - text: 'DO '\n    start_ms: 133450\n  - text: 'IT '\n    start_ms: 133630\n  - text: 'TO '\n    start_ms: 133750\n  - text: 'MY '\n    start_ms: 133890\n  - text: MUSIC\n    start_ms: 134110\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 134590\n  end_ms: 137250\n  words:\n  - text: '*Funk '\n    start_ms: 134990\n  - text: 'Doctor '\n    start_ms: 135350\n  - text: 'Spock* '\n    start_ms: 135810\n  - text: 'lock '\n    start_ms: 136310\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 136590\n  - text: hypest\n    start_ms: 136770\n- text: individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 137460\n  end_ms: 139920\n  words:\n  - text: 'individual, '\n    start_ms: 137460\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 138340\n  - text: 'put '\n    start_ms: 138500\n  - text: 'criminal '\n    start_ms: 138760\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 139300\n  - text: diapers\n    start_ms: 139480\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140140\n  end_ms: 142620\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 140140\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 140300\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 140460\n  - text: 'E '\n    start_ms: 140800\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 140920\n  - text: 'Cypress, '\n    start_ms: 141100\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 141820\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 142040\n  - text: 'write '\n    start_ms: 142120\n  - text: bitch\n    start_ms: 142440\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142920\n  end_ms: 145340\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 142920\n  - text: 'swore, '\n    start_ms: 143100\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 143440\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 143560\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 143800\n  - text: 'nuclear '\n    start_ms: 143920\n  - text: 'war, '\n    start_ms: 144420\n  - text: crisis\n    start_ms: 144860\n- text: in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145530\n  end_ms: 147770\n  words:\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 145530\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 145690\n  - text: 'back '\n    start_ms: 145870\n  - text: 'yard, '\n    start_ms: 146190\n  - text: 'word '\n    start_ms: 146470\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 146710\n  - text: 'God, '\n    start_ms: 146890\n  - text: 'Def '\n    start_ms: 147210\n  - text: Squad!\n    start_ms: 147490\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148160\n  end_ms: 150640\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 148160\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 148360\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 148520\n  - text: 'Keith '\n    start_ms: 148920\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 149240\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 149360\n  - text: 'place '\n    start_ms: 149540\n  - text: 'takin '\n    start_ms: 149840\n  - text: charge\n    start_ms: 150240\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150950\n  end_ms: 153470\n  words:\n  - text: 'Word '\n    start_ms: 150950\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 151170\n  - text: 'you''ll '\n    start_ms: 151310\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 151450\n  - text: 'hurt '\n    start_ms: 151610\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 151870\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 151990\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 152150\n  - text: 'jury '\n    start_ms: 152330\n  - text: 'callin '\n    start_ms: 152710\n  - text: murder\n    start_ms: 153110\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153750\n  end_ms: 155990\n  words:\n  - text: 'You''re '\n    start_ms: 153750\n  - text: 'deaf '\n    start_ms: 153950\n  - text: 'cuz '\n    start_ms: 154210\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 154470\n  - text: 'freak '\n    start_ms: 154570\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 154810\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 155110\n  - text: 'neva '\n    start_ms: 155270\n  - text: 'heard '\n    start_ms: 155610\n  - text: of\n    start_ms: 155850\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 157500\n  end_ms: 159040\n  words:\n  - text: Chorus\n    start_ms: 157500\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 164260\n  end_ms: 165660\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 164260\n  - text: 'Four: '\n    start_ms: 164580\n  - text: 'MC '\n    start_ms: 165160\n  - text: Eiht\n    start_ms: 165360\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 166900\n  end_ms: 169220\n  words:\n  - text: 'Steppin '\n    start_ms: 166900\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 167280\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 167460\n  - text: 'park '\n    start_ms: 167640\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 167900\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 168000\n  - text: 'Hill '\n    start_ms: 168160\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 168460\n  - text: 'can''t '\n    start_ms: 168660\n  - text: hang\n    start_ms: 169000\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169590\n  end_ms: 171810\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 169590\n  - text: 'original '\n    start_ms: 169850\n  - text: 'baby '\n    start_ms: 170070\n  - text: 'gangsta '\n    start_ms: 170410\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 170810\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 170930\n  - text: 'Compton '\n    start_ms: 171130\n  - text: thang\n    start_ms: 171650\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 172060\n  end_ms: 174620\n  words:\n  - text: 'Don''t '\n    start_ms: 172060\n  - text: 'slip, '\n    start_ms: 172360\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 172900\n  - text: 'late '\n    start_ms: 173080\n  - text: 'night '\n    start_ms: 173340\n  - text: 'hype, '\n    start_ms: 173580\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 173880\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 174040\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 174260\n  - text: dip\n    start_ms: 174460\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 174880\n  end_ms: 177100\n  words:\n  - text: Boo-\n    start_ms: 174880\n  - text: 'yaa '\n    start_ms: 175160\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 175440\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 175600\n  - text: 'sound '\n    start_ms: 175820\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 176080\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 176300\n  - text: 'lonely '\n    start_ms: 176420\n  - text: clip\n    start_ms: 176920\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177470\n  end_ms: 180210\n  words:\n  - text: 'Can''t '\n    start_ms: 177470\n  - text: 'feel '\n    start_ms: 177830\n  - text: 'me, '\n    start_ms: 178070\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 178570\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 178690\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 178810\n  - text: 'crack '\n    start_ms: 179010\n  - text: 'you''d '\n    start_ms: 179290\n  - text: 'try '\n    start_ms: 179450\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 179630\n  - text: 'steal '\n    start_ms: 179870\n  - text: me\n    start_ms: 180150\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180420\n  end_ms: 182840\n  words:\n  - text: 'Heard '\n    start_ms: 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'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 230300\n  end_ms: 232200\n  words:\n  - text: 'Outro: '\n    start_ms: 230300\n  - text: 'Sen '\n    start_ms: 232200\n  - text: Dog\n    start_ms: 232200\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 232580\n  end_ms: 233440\n  words:\n  - text: 'Aight, '\n    start_ms: 232580\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 232720\n  - text: everybody\n    start_ms: 232900\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233540\n  end_ms: 235320\n  words:\n  - text: 'All '\n    start_ms: 233540\n  - text: 'our '\n    start_ms: 233780\n  - text: 'peeps '\n    start_ms: 234000\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 234360\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 234500\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 234580\n  - text: corners\n    start_ms: 234740\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235490\n  end_ms: 236570\n  words:\n  - text: 'All '\n    start_ms: 235490\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 235630\n  - text: alleyways\n    start_ms: 235810\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 237130\n  end_ms: 238230\n  words:\n  - text: 'For '\n    start_ms: 237130\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 237290\n  - text: 'our '\n    start_ms: 237410\n  - text: decesed\n    start_ms: 237610\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238780\n  end_ms: 241640\n  words:\n  - text: 'Incarcerated '\n    start_ms: 238780\n  - text: 'peeps, '\n    start_ms: 239580\n  - text: 'brothers '\n    start_ms: 240400\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 240820\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 240940\n  - text: streets\n    start_ms: 241120\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 243310\n  end_ms: 244650\n  words:\n  - text: 'Nineteen '\n    start_ms: 243310\n  - text: ninety-\n    start_ms: 243770\n  - text: five\n    start_ms: 244130\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 245460\n  end_ms: 247420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Soul '\n    start_ms: 245460\n  - text: 'Assassins '\n    start_ms: 245680\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 246260\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 246400\n  - text: mind\n    start_ms: 246580\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":16821545,"name":"Throw Your Hands in the Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands in the Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped (ep)","duration":247.805563,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nfinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nis what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nindividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nin your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.50] Yeah\n[00:04.09] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.16] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.56] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.64] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.01] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.77] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.01] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.55] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.44] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.01] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.75] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.18] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.13] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.36] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.05] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.49] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.92] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.86] I gets real determined\n[00:48.77] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.46] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.20] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.97] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.43] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.60] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.27] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.05] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.93] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.40] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.65] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.11] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.31] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.56] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.68] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.29] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.77] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.83] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.41] Chorus\n[01:52.48] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.30] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.45] finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.55] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.85] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.25] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.69] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.12] is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.92] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.13] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.18] individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.13] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.91] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.42] in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.03] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.57] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.85] Chorus\n[02:46.89] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.23] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.47] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.86] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.65] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.35] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.04] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.50] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.36] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.97] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.41] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.68] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.61] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.63] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.61] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.17] Chorus\n[03:40.59] Chorus\n[03:49.19] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.39] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.32] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.33] All the alleyways\n[03:56.98] For all our decesed\n[03:58.45] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.54] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.50] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands in the Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Cypress Hill - Unreleased & Revamped (ep)\n  duration_ms: 247806\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3500\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3500\n  end_ms: 4090\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4090\n  end_ms: 5160\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5160\n  end_ms: 6560\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6560\n  end_ms: 9640\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9640\n  end_ms: 11010\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11010\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 13010\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13010\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18550\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18550\n  end_ms: 21440\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21440\n  end_ms: 24010\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24010\n  end_ms: 26750\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26750\n  end_ms: 29180\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29180\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35360\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35360\n  end_ms: 38050\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38050\n  end_ms: 40490\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40490\n  end_ms: 42920\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42920\n  end_ms: 46860\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46860\n  end_ms: 48770\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48770\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53460\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53460\n  end_ms: 56200\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56200\n  end_ms: 58970\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58970\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61600\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61600\n  end_ms: 64270\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64270\n  end_ms: 67050\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67050\n  end_ms: 69930\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 75650\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75650\n  end_ms: 78110\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78110\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83310\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83310\n  end_ms: 86560\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86560\n  end_ms: 88680\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88680\n  end_ms: 91290\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91290\n  end_ms: 91770\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91770\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96830\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96830\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 112480\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112480\n  end_ms: 113300\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113300\n  end_ms: 118450\n- text: finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118450\n  end_ms: 121550\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121550\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 131250\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131250\n  end_ms: 132690\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132690\n  end_ms: 133120\n- text: is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133120\n  end_ms: 134920\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134920\n  end_ms: 136130\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136130\n  end_ms: 138180\n- text: individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138180\n  end_ms: 140130\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140130\n  end_ms: 142910\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142910\n  end_ms: 145420\n- text: in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145420\n  end_ms: 148030\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148030\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153570\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153570\n  end_ms: 155850\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155850\n  end_ms: 166890\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166890\n  end_ms: 167230\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167230\n  end_ms: 169470\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169470\n  end_ms: 171860\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171860\n  end_ms: 175650\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175650\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 183040\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183040\n  end_ms: 185500\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185500\n  end_ms: 188360\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188360\n  end_ms: 190970\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190970\n  end_ms: 193410\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193410\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201610\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201610\n  end_ms: 204630\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204630\n  end_ms: 207610\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207610\n  end_ms: 210170\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210170\n  end_ms: 220590\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220590\n  end_ms: 229190\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229190\n  end_ms: 231390\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231390\n  end_ms: 233320\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233320\n  end_ms: 235330\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235330\n  end_ms: 236980\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236980\n  end_ms: 238450\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238450\n  end_ms: 241540\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241540\n  end_ms: 244500\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244500\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":28822749,"name":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Air & Style the ultimate snowboard compilation","duration":248.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nFinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nIs what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nIndividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nIn your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.59] Yeah\n[00:04.03] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.12] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.57] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.69] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.00] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.71] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.02] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.51] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.49] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.06] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.76] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.14] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.11] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.37] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.01] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.42] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.94] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.84] I gets real determined\n[00:48.71] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.48] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.23] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.96] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.45] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.69] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.22] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.06] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.98] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.45] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.66] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.10] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.33] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.50] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.67] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.25] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.72] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.85] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.47] Chorus\n[01:52.41] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.36] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.48] Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.59] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.87] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.20] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.64] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.11] Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.91] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.18] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.10] Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.15] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.96] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.45] In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.05] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.52] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.82] Chorus\n[02:46.83] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.28] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.43] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.80] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.62] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.38] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.07] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.55] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.39] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.93] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.47] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.66] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.63] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.65] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.64] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.10] Chorus\n[03:40.56] Chorus\n[03:49.17] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.31] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.38] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.35] All the alleyways\n[03:56.91] For all our decesed\n[03:58.43] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.51] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.57] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands In The Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Air & Style the ultimate snowboard compilation\n  duration_ms: 248000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3590\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3590\n  end_ms: 4030\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4030\n  end_ms: 5120\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5120\n  end_ms: 6570\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6570\n  end_ms: 9690\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 11000\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11000\n  end_ms: 11710\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11710\n  end_ms: 13020\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13020\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18510\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18510\n  end_ms: 21490\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 24060\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24060\n  end_ms: 26760\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26760\n  end_ms: 29140\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29140\n  end_ms: 32110\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32110\n  end_ms: 35370\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35370\n  end_ms: 38010\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38010\n  end_ms: 40420\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40420\n  end_ms: 42940\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42940\n  end_ms: 46840\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46840\n  end_ms: 48710\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48710\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53480\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53480\n  end_ms: 56230\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56230\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 59450\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59450\n  end_ms: 61690\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61690\n  end_ms: 64220\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64220\n  end_ms: 67060\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67060\n  end_ms: 69980\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69980\n  end_ms: 72450\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72450\n  end_ms: 75660\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75660\n  end_ms: 78100\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78100\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 86500\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86500\n  end_ms: 88670\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88670\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 91720\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91720\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103470\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103470\n  end_ms: 112410\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112410\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 118480\n- text: Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118480\n  end_ms: 121590\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121590\n  end_ms: 127870\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127870\n  end_ms: 131200\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131200\n  end_ms: 132640\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132640\n  end_ms: 133110\n- text: Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133110\n  end_ms: 134910\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134910\n  end_ms: 136180\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136180\n  end_ms: 138100\n- text: Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138100\n  end_ms: 140150\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140150\n  end_ms: 142960\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142960\n  end_ms: 145450\n- text: In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145450\n  end_ms: 148050\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148050\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153520\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153520\n  end_ms: 155820\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155820\n  end_ms: 166830\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166830\n  end_ms: 167280\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167280\n  end_ms: 169430\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169430\n  end_ms: 171800\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171800\n  end_ms: 175620\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175620\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180380\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180380\n  end_ms: 183070\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183070\n  end_ms: 185550\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185550\n  end_ms: 188390\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188390\n  end_ms: 190930\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190930\n  end_ms: 193470\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193470\n  end_ms: 195660\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195660\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201630\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201630\n  end_ms: 204650\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204650\n  end_ms: 207640\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207640\n  end_ms: 210100\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210100\n  end_ms: 220560\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220560\n  end_ms: 229170\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229170\n  end_ms: 231310\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231310\n  end_ms: 233380\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233380\n  end_ms: 235350\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235350\n  end_ms: 236910\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236910\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 241510\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241510\n  end_ms: 244570\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244570\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":26972676,"name":"Throw Your Hands In the Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands In the Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Greatest Hits From The Bong","duration":247.745306,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nFinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nIs what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nIndividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nIn your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.59] Yeah\n[00:04.03] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.12] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.57] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.69] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.00] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.71] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.02] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.51] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.49] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.06] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.76] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.14] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.11] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.37] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.01] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.42] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.94] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.84] I gets real determined\n[00:48.71] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.48] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.23] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.96] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.45] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.69] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.22] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.06] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.98] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.45] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.66] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.10] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.33] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.50] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.67] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.25] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.72] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.85] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.47] Chorus\n[01:52.41] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.36] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.48] Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.59] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.87] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.20] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.64] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.11] Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.91] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.18] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.10] Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.15] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.96] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.45] In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.05] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.52] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.82] Chorus\n[02:46.83] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.28] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.43] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.80] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.62] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.38] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.07] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.55] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.39] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.93] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.47] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.66] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.63] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.65] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.64] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.10] Chorus\n[03:40.56] Chorus\n[03:49.17] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.31] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.38] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.35] All the alleyways\n[03:56.91] For all our decesed\n[03:58.43] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.51] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.57] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands In the Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Greatest Hits From The Bong\n  duration_ms: 247745\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3590\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3590\n  end_ms: 4030\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4030\n  end_ms: 5120\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5120\n  end_ms: 6570\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6570\n  end_ms: 9690\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 11000\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11000\n  end_ms: 11710\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11710\n  end_ms: 13020\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13020\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18510\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18510\n  end_ms: 21490\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 24060\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24060\n  end_ms: 26760\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26760\n  end_ms: 29140\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29140\n  end_ms: 32110\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32110\n  end_ms: 35370\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35370\n  end_ms: 38010\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38010\n  end_ms: 40420\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40420\n  end_ms: 42940\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42940\n  end_ms: 46840\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46840\n  end_ms: 48710\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48710\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53480\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53480\n  end_ms: 56230\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56230\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 59450\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59450\n  end_ms: 61690\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61690\n  end_ms: 64220\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64220\n  end_ms: 67060\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67060\n  end_ms: 69980\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69980\n  end_ms: 72450\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72450\n  end_ms: 75660\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75660\n  end_ms: 78100\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78100\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 86500\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86500\n  end_ms: 88670\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88670\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 91720\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91720\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103470\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103470\n  end_ms: 112410\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112410\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 118480\n- text: Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118480\n  end_ms: 121590\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121590\n  end_ms: 127870\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127870\n  end_ms: 131200\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131200\n  end_ms: 132640\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132640\n  end_ms: 133110\n- text: Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133110\n  end_ms: 134910\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134910\n  end_ms: 136180\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136180\n  end_ms: 138100\n- text: Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138100\n  end_ms: 140150\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140150\n  end_ms: 142960\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142960\n  end_ms: 145450\n- text: In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145450\n  end_ms: 148050\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148050\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153520\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153520\n  end_ms: 155820\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155820\n  end_ms: 166830\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166830\n  end_ms: 167280\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167280\n  end_ms: 169430\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169430\n  end_ms: 171800\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171800\n  end_ms: 175620\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175620\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180380\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180380\n  end_ms: 183070\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183070\n  end_ms: 185550\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185550\n  end_ms: 188390\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188390\n  end_ms: 190930\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190930\n  end_ms: 193470\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193470\n  end_ms: 195660\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195660\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201630\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201630\n  end_ms: 204650\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204650\n  end_ms: 207640\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207640\n  end_ms: 210100\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210100\n  end_ms: 220560\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220560\n  end_ms: 229170\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229170\n  end_ms: 231310\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231310\n  end_ms: 233380\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233380\n  end_ms: 235350\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235350\n  end_ms: 236910\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236910\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 241510\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241510\n  end_ms: 244570\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244570\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":25478873,"name":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Still Smoking the Ultimate Video Collection","duration":259.096667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nFinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nIs what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nIndividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nIn your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.59] Yeah\n[00:04.03] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.12] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.57] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.69] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.00] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.71] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.02] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.51] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.49] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.06] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.76] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.14] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.11] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.37] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.01] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.42] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.94] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.84] I gets real determined\n[00:48.71] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.48] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.23] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.96] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.45] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.69] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.22] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.06] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.98] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.45] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.66] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.10] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.33] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.50] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.67] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.25] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.72] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.85] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.47] Chorus\n[01:52.41] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.36] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.48] Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.59] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.87] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.20] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.64] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.11] Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.91] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.18] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.10] Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.15] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.96] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.45] In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.05] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.52] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.82] Chorus\n[02:46.83] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.28] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.43] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.80] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.62] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.38] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.07] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.55] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.39] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.93] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.47] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.66] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.63] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.65] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.64] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.10] Chorus\n[03:40.56] Chorus\n[03:49.17] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.31] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.38] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.35] All the alleyways\n[03:56.91] For all our decesed\n[03:58.43] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.51] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.57] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands In The Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Still Smoking the Ultimate Video Collection\n  duration_ms: 259097\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3590\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3590\n  end_ms: 4030\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4030\n  end_ms: 5120\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5120\n  end_ms: 6570\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6570\n  end_ms: 9690\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 11000\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11000\n  end_ms: 11710\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11710\n  end_ms: 13020\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13020\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18510\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18510\n  end_ms: 21490\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 24060\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24060\n  end_ms: 26760\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26760\n  end_ms: 29140\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29140\n  end_ms: 32110\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32110\n  end_ms: 35370\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35370\n  end_ms: 38010\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38010\n  end_ms: 40420\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40420\n  end_ms: 42940\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42940\n  end_ms: 46840\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46840\n  end_ms: 48710\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48710\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53480\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53480\n  end_ms: 56230\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56230\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 59450\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59450\n  end_ms: 61690\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61690\n  end_ms: 64220\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64220\n  end_ms: 67060\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67060\n  end_ms: 69980\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69980\n  end_ms: 72450\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72450\n  end_ms: 75660\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75660\n  end_ms: 78100\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78100\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 86500\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86500\n  end_ms: 88670\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88670\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 91720\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91720\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103470\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103470\n  end_ms: 112410\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112410\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 118480\n- text: Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118480\n  end_ms: 121590\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121590\n  end_ms: 127870\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127870\n  end_ms: 131200\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131200\n  end_ms: 132640\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132640\n  end_ms: 133110\n- text: Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133110\n  end_ms: 134910\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134910\n  end_ms: 136180\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136180\n  end_ms: 138100\n- text: Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138100\n  end_ms: 140150\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140150\n  end_ms: 142960\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142960\n  end_ms: 145450\n- text: In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145450\n  end_ms: 148050\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148050\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153520\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153520\n  end_ms: 155820\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155820\n  end_ms: 166830\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166830\n  end_ms: 167280\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167280\n  end_ms: 169430\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169430\n  end_ms: 171800\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171800\n  end_ms: 175620\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175620\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180380\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180380\n  end_ms: 183070\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183070\n  end_ms: 185550\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185550\n  end_ms: 188390\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188390\n  end_ms: 190930\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190930\n  end_ms: 193470\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193470\n  end_ms: 195660\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195660\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201630\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201630\n  end_ms: 204650\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204650\n  end_ms: 207640\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207640\n  end_ms: 210100\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210100\n  end_ms: 220560\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220560\n  end_ms: 229170\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229170\n  end_ms: 231310\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231310\n  end_ms: 233380\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233380\n  end_ms: 235350\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235350\n  end_ms: 236910\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236910\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 241510\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241510\n  end_ms: 244570\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244570\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":27645758,"name":"Throw Your Hands in the Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands in the Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Still Smokin' the Ultimate Video Collection (DVD)","duration":259.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nFinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nIs what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nIndividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nIn your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.59] Yeah\n[00:04.03] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.12] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.57] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.69] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.00] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.71] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.02] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.51] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.49] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.06] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.76] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.14] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.11] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.37] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.01] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.42] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.94] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.84] I gets real determined\n[00:48.71] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.48] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.23] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.96] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.45] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.69] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.22] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.06] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.98] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.45] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.66] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.10] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.33] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.50] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.67] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.25] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.72] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.85] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.47] Chorus\n[01:52.41] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.36] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.48] Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.59] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.87] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.20] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.64] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.11] Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.91] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.18] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.10] Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.15] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.96] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.45] In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.05] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.52] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.82] Chorus\n[02:46.83] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.28] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.43] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.80] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.62] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.38] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.07] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.55] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.39] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.93] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.47] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.66] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.63] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.65] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.64] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.10] Chorus\n[03:40.56] Chorus\n[03:49.17] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.31] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.38] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.35] All the alleyways\n[03:56.91] For all our decesed\n[03:58.43] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.51] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.57] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands in the Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Still Smokin' the Ultimate Video Collection (DVD)\n  duration_ms: 259000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3590\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3590\n  end_ms: 4030\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4030\n  end_ms: 5120\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5120\n  end_ms: 6570\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6570\n  end_ms: 9690\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 11000\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11000\n  end_ms: 11710\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11710\n  end_ms: 13020\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13020\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18510\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18510\n  end_ms: 21490\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 24060\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24060\n  end_ms: 26760\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26760\n  end_ms: 29140\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29140\n  end_ms: 32110\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32110\n  end_ms: 35370\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35370\n  end_ms: 38010\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38010\n  end_ms: 40420\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40420\n  end_ms: 42940\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42940\n  end_ms: 46840\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46840\n  end_ms: 48710\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48710\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53480\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53480\n  end_ms: 56230\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56230\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 59450\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59450\n  end_ms: 61690\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61690\n  end_ms: 64220\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64220\n  end_ms: 67060\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67060\n  end_ms: 69980\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69980\n  end_ms: 72450\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72450\n  end_ms: 75660\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75660\n  end_ms: 78100\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78100\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 86500\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86500\n  end_ms: 88670\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88670\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 91720\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91720\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103470\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103470\n  end_ms: 112410\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112410\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 118480\n- text: Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118480\n  end_ms: 121590\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121590\n  end_ms: 127870\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127870\n  end_ms: 131200\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131200\n  end_ms: 132640\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132640\n  end_ms: 133110\n- text: Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133110\n  end_ms: 134910\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134910\n  end_ms: 136180\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136180\n  end_ms: 138100\n- text: Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138100\n  end_ms: 140150\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140150\n  end_ms: 142960\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142960\n  end_ms: 145450\n- text: In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145450\n  end_ms: 148050\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148050\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153520\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153520\n  end_ms: 155820\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155820\n  end_ms: 166830\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166830\n  end_ms: 167280\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167280\n  end_ms: 169430\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169430\n  end_ms: 171800\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171800\n  end_ms: 175620\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175620\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180380\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180380\n  end_ms: 183070\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183070\n  end_ms: 185550\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185550\n  end_ms: 188390\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188390\n  end_ms: 190930\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190930\n  end_ms: 193470\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193470\n  end_ms: 195660\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195660\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201630\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201630\n  end_ms: 204650\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204650\n  end_ms: 207640\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207640\n  end_ms: 210100\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210100\n  end_ms: 220560\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220560\n  end_ms: 229170\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229170\n  end_ms: 231310\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231310\n  end_ms: 233380\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233380\n  end_ms: 235350\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235350\n  end_ms: 236910\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236910\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 241510\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241510\n  end_ms: 244570\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244570\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":2827205,"name":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Unreleased & Revamped","duration":248.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nFinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nIs what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nIndividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nIn your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.59] Yeah\n[00:04.03] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.12] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.57] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.69] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.00] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.71] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.02] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.51] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.49] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.06] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.76] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.14] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.11] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.37] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.01] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.42] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.94] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.84] I gets real determined\n[00:48.71] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.48] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.23] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.96] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.45] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.69] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.22] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.06] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.98] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.45] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.66] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.10] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.33] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.50] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.67] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.25] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.72] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.85] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.47] Chorus\n[01:52.41] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.36] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.48] Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.59] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.87] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.20] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.64] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.11] Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.91] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.18] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.10] Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.15] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.96] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.45] In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.05] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.52] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.82] Chorus\n[02:46.83] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.28] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.43] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.80] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.62] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.38] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.07] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.55] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.39] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.93] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.47] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.66] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.63] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.65] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.64] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.10] Chorus\n[03:40.56] Chorus\n[03:49.17] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.31] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.38] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.35] All the alleyways\n[03:56.91] For all our decesed\n[03:58.43] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.51] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.57] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands In The Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Unreleased & Revamped\n  duration_ms: 248000\n  instrumental: false\n  language: en\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 870\n  end_ms: 1410\n  words:\n  - text: 'Intro: '\n    start_ms: 870\n  - text: 'Sen '\n    start_ms: 1410\n  - text: Dog\n    start_ms: 1410\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 1910\n  end_ms: 1910\n  words:\n  - text: Yeah\n    start_ms: 1910\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 1950\n  end_ms: 5030\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bust '\n    start_ms: 1950\n  - text: 'how '\n    start_ms: 2150\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 2390\n  - text: 'gonna '\n    start_ms: 2510\n  - text: 'bounce '\n    start_ms: 2770\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 3110\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 3290\n  - text: ninety-\n    start_ms: 3510\n  - text: 'five '\n    start_ms: 3830\n  - text: 'Soul '\n    start_ms: 4210\n  - text: Assassins\n    start_ms: 4450\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5090\n  end_ms: 6110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Cypress '\n    start_ms: 5090\n  - text: 'Hill '\n    start_ms: 5530\n  - text: joint.\n    start_ms: 5850\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6630\n  end_ms: 9290\n  words:\n  - text: 'Yo '\n    start_ms: 6630\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 6810\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 6970\n  - text: 'everybody '\n    start_ms: 7190\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 7730\n  - text: 'there '\n    start_ms: 7970\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 8210\n  - text: 'throw '\n    start_ms: 8350\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 8570\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 8710\n  - text: up...\n    start_ms: 9170\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 10730\n  words:\n  - text: '...so '\n    start_ms: 9730\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 9910\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 10110\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 10270\n  - text: kid!\n    start_ms: 10570\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 10750\n  end_ms: 10750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 10750\n  - text: 'One: '\n    start_ms: 10750\n  - text: 'Erick '\n    start_ms: 10750\n  - text: Sermon\n    start_ms: 10750\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 10860\n  end_ms: 14100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fresh '\n    start_ms: 10860\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 11260\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 11420\n  - text: 'word, '\n    start_ms: 11600\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 12080\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 12300\n  - text: 'display '\n    start_ms: 12460\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 13040\n  - text: 'rappin '\n    start_ms: 13240\n  - text: forte\n    start_ms: 13680\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 14210\n  end_ms: 16110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Quicker '\n    start_ms: 14210\n  - text: 'done '\n    start_ms: 14610\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 14950\n  - text: O.\n    start_ms: 15310\n  - text: 'J., '\n    start_ms: 15590\n  - text: hey\n    start_ms: 15990\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 18700\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 16380\n  - text: 'freaks '\n    start_ms: 16500\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 16780\n  - text: 'shit, '\n    start_ms: 16980\n  - text: 'E '\n    start_ms: 17540\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 17820\n  - text: 'lyrical '\n    start_ms: 17920\n  - text: master\n    start_ms: 18320\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18780\n  end_ms: 21420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Stress '\n    start_ms: 18780\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 19140\n  - text: 'out, '\n    start_ms: 19380\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 19680\n  - text: 'doubt, '\n    start_ms: 19900\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 20260\n  - text: 'might '\n    start_ms: 20340\n  - text: 'have '\n    start_ms: 20620\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 20840\n  - text: 'blast '\n    start_ms: 21000\n  - text: ya\n    start_ms: 21360\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 23990\n  words:\n  - text: 'Let '\n    start_ms: 21490\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 21750\n  - text: 'ask '\n    start_ms: 22050\n  - text: 'ya, '\n    start_ms: 22310\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 22550\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 22710\n  - text: 'gets '\n    start_ms: 22810\n  - text: 'busy '\n    start_ms: 23010\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 23390\n  - text: time?\n    start_ms: 23690\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24110\n  end_ms: 26550\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 24110\n  - text: 'unwind '\n    start_ms: 24330\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 24890\n  - text: 'chill, '\n    start_ms: 25130\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 25630\n  - text: 'Cypress '\n    start_ms: 25830\n  - text: Hill\n    start_ms: 26350\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26800\n  end_ms: 29080\n  words:\n  - text: 'Huh, '\n    start_ms: 26800\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 27180\n  - text: 'go '\n    start_ms: 27280\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 27580\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 28000\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 28160\n  - text: 'bad '\n    start_ms: 28380\n  - text: self\n    start_ms: 28840\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29420\n  end_ms: 32100\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 29420\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 29540\n  - text: 'four '\n    start_ms: 29740\n  - text: 'pound '\n    start_ms: 30080\n  - text: 'toter, '\n    start_ms: 30420\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 30920\n  - text: 'Phil '\n    start_ms: 31080\n  - text: 'blunt '\n    start_ms: 31420\n  - text: smoker\n    start_ms: 31760\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32690\n  end_ms: 35370\n  words:\n  - text: 'Believe '\n    start_ms: 32690\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 33150\n  - text: 'not, '\n    start_ms: 33370\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 33750\n  - text: 'wicked '\n    start_ms: 33870\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 34190\n  - text: 'three '\n    start_ms: 34490\n  - text: sixes\n    start_ms: 34870\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35660\n  end_ms: 37800\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 35660\n  - text: 'doper '\n    start_ms: 35820\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 36140\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 36320\n  - text: 'Pete '\n    start_ms: 36520\n  - text: 'Rock '\n    start_ms: 36840\n  - text: remixes\n    start_ms: 37180\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38420\n  end_ms: 40100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Never '\n    start_ms: 38420\n  - text: 'walk '\n    start_ms: 38800\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 39060\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 39260\n  - text: 'crowd '\n    start_ms: 39420\n  - text: sluggish\n    start_ms: 39760\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40330\n  end_ms: 42810\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 40330\n  - text: 'hardcore '\n    start_ms: 40490\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 41110\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 41290\n  - text: 'Bone, '\n    start_ms: 41470\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 41970\n  - text: 'Thuggish '\n    start_ms: 42090\n  - text: Ruggish\n    start_ms: 42510\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 43050\n  end_ms: 46830\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 43050\n  - text: Green-\n    start_ms: 43210\n  - text: 'Eyed, '\n    start_ms: 43570\n  - text: 'Bandit, '\n    start_ms: 44210\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 44930\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 45050\n  - text: 'ERRRICK '\n    start_ms: 45330\n  - text: SERRRMON\n    start_ms: 45930\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 47100\n  end_ms: 48180\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 47100\n  - text: 'gets '\n    start_ms: 47200\n  - text: 'real '\n    start_ms: 47420\n  - text: determined\n    start_ms: 47660\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48410\n  end_ms: 50870\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 48410\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 48610\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 48890\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 49050\n  - text: 'trouble, '\n    start_ms: 49250\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 49770\n  - text: 'two '\n    start_ms: 49970\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 50250\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 50450\n  - text: bass\n    start_ms: 50630\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 51140\n  end_ms: 53520\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 51140\n  - text: 'take '\n    start_ms: 51260\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 51420\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 51560\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 51740\n  - text: 'face '\n    start_ms: 51940\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 52280\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 52440\n  - text: 'here '\n    start_ms: 52640\n  - text: 'lyrical '\n    start_ms: 52800\n  - text: mace\n    start_ms: 53300\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53800\n  end_ms: 56240\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 53800\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 53940\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 54120\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 54320\n  - text: 'know, '\n    start_ms: 54640\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 54960\n  - text: 'better '\n    start_ms: 55280\n  - text: recognize\n    start_ms: 55620\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56440\n  end_ms: 58900\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 56440\n  - text: 'coming '\n    start_ms: 56620\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 56940\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 57120\n  - text: 'speed, '\n    start_ms: 57400\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 58020\n  - text: 'pounds '\n    start_ms: 58240\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 58580\n  - text: weed\n    start_ms: 58720\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58920\n  end_ms: 59040\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 58920\n  - text: 'Two: '\n    start_ms: 58959\n  - text: B-\n    start_ms: 58999\n  - text: Real\n    start_ms: 59019\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59470\n  end_ms: 61470\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ahh '\n    start_ms: 59470\n  - text: 'shit, '\n    start_ms: 59500\n  - text: 'another '\n    start_ms: 59530\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 60050\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 60230\n  - text: 'those '\n    start_ms: 60370\n  - text: 'gangsta '\n    start_ms: 60690\n  - text: hits\n    start_ms: 61210\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61710\n  end_ms: 64109\n  words:\n  - text: 'Niggaz '\n    start_ms: 61710\n  - text: 'wanna '\n    start_ms: 62050\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 62410\n  - text: 'busy '\n    start_ms: 62690\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 63050\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 63250\n  - text: ultimate\n    start_ms: 63470\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64330\n  end_ms: 66750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fools '\n    start_ms: 64330\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 64690\n  - text: 'real, '\n    start_ms: 65030\n  - text: 'yo '\n    start_ms: 65350\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 65550\n  - text: 'representin '\n    start_ms: 65690\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 66350\n  - text: Hill\n    start_ms: 66550\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67030\n  end_ms: 69630\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 67030\n  - text: 'chips '\n    start_ms: 67350\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 67690\n  - text: 'clips '\n    start_ms: 67970\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 68310\n  - text: 'tons '\n    start_ms: 68550\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 68850\n  - text: 'blue '\n    start_ms: 68990\n  - text: steel\n    start_ms: 69350\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 72410\n  words:\n  - text: 'So '\n    start_ms: 69930\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 70110\n  - text: 'wants '\n    start_ms: 70330\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 70630\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 70810\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 71090\n  - text: 'first '\n    start_ms: 71270\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 71610\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 71910\n  - text: die?\n    start_ms: 72130\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72410\n  end_ms: 75070\n  words:\n  - text: 'Then '\n    start_ms: 72410\n  - text: 'try '\n    start_ms: 72630\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 72930\n  - text: 'test '\n    start_ms: 73130\n  - text: 'this, '\n    start_ms: 73450\n  - text: 'buddha '\n    start_ms: 73790\n  - text: 'blessed '\n    start_ms: 74150\n  - text: Gemini\n    start_ms: 74490\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75850\n  end_ms: 77990\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 75850\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 76010\n  - text: 'thrown '\n    start_ms: 76150\n  - text: 'sent '\n    start_ms: 76550\n  - text: 'home '\n    start_ms: 76870\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 77230\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 77390\n  - text: coffin\n    start_ms: 77550\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78180\n  end_ms: 80680\n  words:\n  - text: 'Punk '\n    start_ms: 78180\n  - text: 'stuff '\n    start_ms: 78480\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 78760\n  - text: 'make '\n    start_ms: 78840\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 79100\n  - text: 'back, '\n    start_ms: 79360\n  - text: 'very '\n    start_ms: 79820\n  - text: often\n    start_ms: 80240\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 81000\n  end_ms: 83200\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 81000\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 81140\n  - text: 'Erick '\n    start_ms: 81520\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 81800\n  - text: 'take '\n    start_ms: 82020\n  - text: 'care '\n    start_ms: 82300\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 82540\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 82660\n  - text: Sermon\n    start_ms: 82860\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83580\n  end_ms: 86060\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ashes '\n    start_ms: 83580\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 84040\n  - text: 'ashes, '\n    start_ms: 84280\n  - text: 'dust, '\n    start_ms: 84720\n  - text: 'bodies '\n    start_ms: 85220\n  - text: burnin\n    start_ms: 85700\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86580\n  end_ms: 88720\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bustin '\n    start_ms: 86580\n  - text: 'open '\n    start_ms: 87020\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 87300\n  - text: 'doors '\n    start_ms: 87500\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 87960\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 88140\n  - text: temple\n    start_ms: 88360\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88950\n  end_ms: 94270\n  words:\n  - text: 'Takin '\n    start_ms: 88950\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 89370\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 89610\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 89830\n  - text: 'dark '\n    start_ms: 90010\n  - text: 'side '\n    start_ms: 90370\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 90650\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 90890\n  - text: mental\n    start_ms: 91070\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 101340\n  end_ms: 101580\n  words:\n  - text: 'Chorus: '\n    start_ms: 101340\n  - text: B-\n    start_ms: 101486\n  - text: Real\n    start_ms: 101533\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 102290\n  end_ms: 105340\n  words:\n  - text: 'Kickin '\n    start_ms: 102290\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 102627\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 102765\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 102944\n  - text: 'brothers '\n    start_ms: 103102\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 103498\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 103637\n  - text: 'corners, '\n    start_ms: 103815\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 104488\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 104647\n  - text: alleys\n    start_ms: 104865\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 105340\n  end_ms: 106560\n  words:\n  - text: 'Throw '\n    start_ms: 105340\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 105600\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 105740\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 106120\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 106260\n  - text: air\n    start_ms: 106400\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 107510\n  end_ms: 110590\n  words:\n  - text: 'Kickin '\n    start_ms: 107510\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 107850\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 108010\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 108190\n  - text: 'brothers '\n    start_ms: 108350\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 108750\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 108890\n  - text: 'corners, '\n    start_ms: 109070\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 109730\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 109910\n  - text: alleys\n    start_ms: 110130\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 110790\n  end_ms: 112110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Throw '\n    start_ms: 110790\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 111030\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 111250\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 111590\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 111770\n  - text: air\n    start_ms: 111970\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 112650\n  end_ms: 112650\n  words:\n  - text: Chorus\n    start_ms: 112650\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112650\n  end_ms: 112650\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 112650\n  - text: 'Three: '\n    start_ms: 112650\n  - text: Redman\n    start_ms: 112650\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 112650\n  end_ms: 115530\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 112650\n  - text: 'rhyme '\n    start_ms: 112810\n  - text: 'tricky, '\n    start_ms: 113130\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 113630\n  - text: 'sticky '\n    start_ms: 113810\n  - text: 'smoka '\n    start_ms: 114210\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 114590\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 114770\n  - text: 'mind '\n    start_ms: 114930\n  - text: itchy\n    start_ms: 115250\n- text: finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 115740\n  end_ms: 118060\n  words:\n  - text: 'finger '\n    start_ms: 115740\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 116080\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 116280\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 116400\n  - text: 'pen, '\n    start_ms: 116580\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 116840\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 116980\n  - text: '\"He '\n    start_ms: 117210\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 117340\n  - text: 'bomb, '\n    start_ms: 117540\n  - text: dicky!\"\n    start_ms: 117880\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 118380\n  end_ms: 120960\n  words:\n  - text: 'These '\n    start_ms: 118380\n  - text: off-\n    start_ms: 118660\n  - text: 'keys '\n    start_ms: 118880\n  - text: 'MC''s '\n    start_ms: 119180\n  - text: 'hawk '\n    start_ms: 119560\n  - text: 'me, '\n    start_ms: 119840\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 120120\n  - text: 'won''t '\n    start_ms: 120280\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 120460\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 120660\n  - text: me\n    start_ms: 120880\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 121140\n  end_ms: 123920\n  words:\n  - text: 'So '\n    start_ms: 121140\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 121360\n  - text: 'kill '\n    start_ms: 121480\n  - text: 'em '\n    start_ms: 121640\n  - text: 'softly '\n    start_ms: 121840\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 122280\n  - text: 'use '\n    start_ms: 122440\n  - text: 'em '\n    start_ms: 122620\n  - text: 'as '\n    start_ms: 122760\n  - text: 'walkie '\n    start_ms: 122940\n  - text: 'talkies '\n    start_ms: 123340\n  - text: '*bzzzzt*'\n    start_ms: 123780\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 124180\n  end_ms: 126280\n  words:\n  - text: 'Turn '\n    start_ms: 124180\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 124420\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 124540\n  - text: 'level '\n    start_ms: 124700\n  - text: 'adjust '\n    start_ms: 125000\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 125460\n  - text: 'voice '\n    start_ms: 125680\n  - text: pitch\n    start_ms: 126040\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 126540\n  end_ms: 129100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hoist '\n    start_ms: 126540\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 126920\n  - text: 'diagnosis, '\n    start_ms: 127180\n  - text: comatosis\n    start_ms: 128320\n- text: is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 129150\n  end_ms: 132191\n  words:\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 129150\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 129311\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 129531\n  - text: 'leave '\n    start_ms: 129631\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 129811\n  - text: 'crew '\n    start_ms: 130011\n  - text: 'with, '\n    start_ms: 130231\n  - text: 'boom '\n    start_ms: 130571\n  - text: 'bip '\n    start_ms: 130831\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 131050\n  - text: 'some '\n    start_ms: 131211\n  - text: 'two '\n    start_ms: 131431\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 131571\n  - text: 'two '\n    start_ms: 131771\n  - text: shit\n    start_ms: 132051\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 132490\n  end_ms: 134590\n  words:\n  - text: 'Raw '\n    start_ms: 132490\n  - text: 'silk, '\n    start_ms: 132810\n  - text: 'cuz '\n    start_ms: 133070\n  - text: 'YOU '\n    start_ms: 133270\n  - text: 'DO '\n    start_ms: 133450\n  - text: 'IT '\n    start_ms: 133630\n  - text: 'TO '\n    start_ms: 133750\n  - text: 'MY '\n    start_ms: 133890\n  - text: MUSIC\n    start_ms: 134110\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 134590\n  end_ms: 137250\n  words:\n  - text: '*Funk '\n    start_ms: 134990\n  - text: 'Doctor '\n    start_ms: 135350\n  - text: 'Spock* '\n    start_ms: 135810\n  - text: 'lock '\n    start_ms: 136310\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 136590\n  - text: hypest\n    start_ms: 136770\n- text: individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 137460\n  end_ms: 139920\n  words:\n  - text: 'individual, '\n    start_ms: 137460\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 138340\n  - text: 'put '\n    start_ms: 138500\n  - text: 'criminal '\n    start_ms: 138760\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 139300\n  - text: diapers\n    start_ms: 139480\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140140\n  end_ms: 142620\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 140140\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 140300\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 140460\n  - text: 'E '\n    start_ms: 140800\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 140920\n  - text: 'Cypress, '\n    start_ms: 141100\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 141820\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 142040\n  - text: 'write '\n    start_ms: 142120\n  - text: bitch\n    start_ms: 142440\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142920\n  end_ms: 145340\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 142920\n  - text: 'swore, '\n    start_ms: 143100\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 143440\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 143560\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 143800\n  - text: 'nuclear '\n    start_ms: 143920\n  - text: 'war, '\n    start_ms: 144420\n  - text: crisis\n    start_ms: 144860\n- text: in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145530\n  end_ms: 147770\n  words:\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 145530\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 145690\n  - text: 'back '\n    start_ms: 145870\n  - text: 'yard, '\n    start_ms: 146190\n  - text: 'word '\n    start_ms: 146470\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 146710\n  - text: 'God, '\n    start_ms: 146890\n  - text: 'Def '\n    start_ms: 147210\n  - text: Squad!\n    start_ms: 147490\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148160\n  end_ms: 150640\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 148160\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 148360\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 148520\n  - text: 'Keith '\n    start_ms: 148920\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 149240\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 149360\n  - text: 'place '\n    start_ms: 149540\n  - text: 'takin '\n    start_ms: 149840\n  - text: charge\n    start_ms: 150240\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150950\n  end_ms: 153470\n  words:\n  - text: 'Word '\n    start_ms: 150950\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 151170\n  - text: 'you''ll '\n    start_ms: 151310\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 151450\n  - text: 'hurt '\n    start_ms: 151610\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 151870\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 151990\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 152150\n  - text: 'jury '\n    start_ms: 152330\n  - text: 'callin '\n    start_ms: 152710\n  - text: murder\n    start_ms: 153110\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153750\n  end_ms: 155990\n  words:\n  - text: 'You''re '\n    start_ms: 153750\n  - text: 'deaf '\n    start_ms: 153950\n  - text: 'cuz '\n    start_ms: 154210\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 154470\n  - text: 'freak '\n    start_ms: 154570\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 154810\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 155110\n  - text: 'neva '\n    start_ms: 155270\n  - text: 'heard '\n    start_ms: 155610\n  - text: of\n    start_ms: 155850\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 157500\n  end_ms: 159040\n  words:\n  - text: Chorus\n    start_ms: 157500\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 164260\n  end_ms: 165660\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 164260\n  - text: 'Four: '\n    start_ms: 164580\n  - text: 'MC '\n    start_ms: 165160\n  - text: Eiht\n    start_ms: 165360\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 166900\n  end_ms: 169220\n  words:\n  - text: 'Steppin '\n    start_ms: 166900\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 167280\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 167460\n  - text: 'park '\n    start_ms: 167640\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 167900\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 168000\n  - text: 'Hill '\n    start_ms: 168160\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 168460\n  - text: 'can''t '\n    start_ms: 168660\n  - text: hang\n    start_ms: 169000\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169590\n  end_ms: 171810\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 169590\n  - text: 'original '\n    start_ms: 169850\n  - text: 'baby '\n    start_ms: 170070\n  - text: 'gangsta '\n    start_ms: 170410\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 170810\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 170930\n  - text: 'Compton '\n    start_ms: 171130\n  - text: thang\n    start_ms: 171650\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 172060\n  end_ms: 174620\n  words:\n  - text: 'Don''t '\n    start_ms: 172060\n  - text: 'slip, '\n    start_ms: 172360\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 172900\n  - text: 'late '\n    start_ms: 173080\n  - text: 'night '\n    start_ms: 173340\n  - text: 'hype, '\n    start_ms: 173580\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 173880\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 174040\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 174260\n  - text: dip\n    start_ms: 174460\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 174880\n  end_ms: 177100\n  words:\n  - text: Boo-\n    start_ms: 174880\n  - text: 'yaa '\n    start_ms: 175160\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 175440\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 175600\n  - text: 'sound '\n    start_ms: 175820\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 176080\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 176300\n  - text: 'lonely '\n    start_ms: 176420\n  - text: clip\n    start_ms: 176920\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177470\n  end_ms: 180210\n  words:\n  - text: 'Can''t '\n    start_ms: 177470\n  - text: 'feel '\n    start_ms: 177830\n  - text: 'me, '\n    start_ms: 178070\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 178570\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 178690\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 178810\n  - text: 'crack '\n    start_ms: 179010\n  - text: 'you''d '\n    start_ms: 179290\n  - text: 'try '\n    start_ms: 179450\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 179630\n  - text: 'steal '\n    start_ms: 179870\n  - text: me\n    start_ms: 180150\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180420\n  end_ms: 182840\n  words:\n  - text: 'Heard '\n    start_ms: 180420\n  - text: 'you, '\n    start_ms: 180700\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 180960\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 181100\n  - text: 'little '\n    start_ms: 181320\n  - text: 'crew, '\n    start_ms: 181660\n  - text: 'wanna '\n    start_ms: 182100\n  - text: 'peel '\n    start_ms: 182480\n  - text: me\n    start_ms: 182760\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183420\n  end_ms: 185160\n  words:\n  - text: 'Keep '\n    start_ms: 183420\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 183640\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 183820\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 184160\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 184280\n  - text: 'hood, '\n    start_ms: 184460\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 184660\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 184800\n  - text: got\n    start_ms: 185020\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185270\n  end_ms: 188130\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 185270\n  - text: Green-\n    start_ms: 185430\n  - text: 'Eyed '\n    start_ms: 185630\n  - text: 'Bandit, '\n    start_ms: 185830\n  - text: 'Cypress '\n    start_ms: 186190\n  - text: 'Hill, '\n    start_ms: 186530\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 186830\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 186990\n  - text: 'Funk '\n    start_ms: 187150\n  - text: 'Doctor '\n    start_ms: 187450\n  - text: Spock\n    start_ms: 187810\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 189060\n  end_ms: 190780\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 189060\n  - text: 'wish '\n    start_ms: 189180\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 189420\n  - text: 'could '\n    start_ms: 189540\n  - text: 'hang, '\n    start_ms: 189760\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 190240\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 190520\n  - text: hang\n    start_ms: 190620\n- 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text: block\n    start_ms: 204100\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204960\n  end_ms: 207060\n  words:\n  - text: 'Throw '\n    start_ms: 204960\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 205180\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 205380\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 205720\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 205860\n  - text: 'air, '\n    start_ms: 206120\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 206380\n  - text: 'bite '\n    start_ms: 206640\n  - text: this\n    start_ms: 206900\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207150\n  end_ms: 221670\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 207150\n  - text: 'squeeze, '\n    start_ms: 207350\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 207730\n  - text: 'please, '\n    start_ms: 208070\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 208430\n  - text: 'E '\n    start_ms: 208710\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 209050\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 209230\n  - text: Cypress\n    start_ms: 209450\n- text: Chorus\n  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235490\n  end_ms: 236570\n  words:\n  - text: 'All '\n    start_ms: 235490\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 235630\n  - text: alleyways\n    start_ms: 235810\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 237130\n  end_ms: 238230\n  words:\n  - text: 'For '\n    start_ms: 237130\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 237290\n  - text: 'our '\n    start_ms: 237410\n  - text: decesed\n    start_ms: 237610\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238780\n  end_ms: 241640\n  words:\n  - text: 'Incarcerated '\n    start_ms: 238780\n  - text: 'peeps, '\n    start_ms: 239580\n  - text: 'brothers '\n    start_ms: 240400\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 240820\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 240940\n  - text: streets\n    start_ms: 241120\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 243310\n  end_ms: 244650\n  words:\n  - text: 'Nineteen '\n    start_ms: 243310\n  - text: ninety-\n    start_ms: 243770\n  - text: five\n    start_ms: 244130\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 245460\n  end_ms: 247420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Soul '\n    start_ms: 245460\n  - text: 'Assassins '\n    start_ms: 245680\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 246260\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 246400\n  - text: mind\n    start_ms: 246580\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":2827204,"name":"Throw Your Hands In the Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands In the Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"UNRELEASED & REVAMPED(EP)","duration":248.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nFinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nIs what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nIndividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nIn your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.59] Yeah\n[00:04.03] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.12] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.57] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.69] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.00] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.71] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.02] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.51] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.49] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.06] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.76] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.14] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.11] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.37] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.01] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.42] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.94] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.84] I gets real determined\n[00:48.71] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.48] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.23] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.96] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.45] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.69] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.22] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.06] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.98] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.45] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.66] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.10] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.33] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.50] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.67] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.25] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.72] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.85] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.47] Chorus\n[01:52.41] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.36] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.48] Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.59] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.87] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.20] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.64] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.11] Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.91] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.18] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.10] Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.15] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.96] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.45] In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.05] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.52] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.82] Chorus\n[02:46.83] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.28] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.43] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.80] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.62] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.38] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.07] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.55] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.39] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.93] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.47] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.66] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.63] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.65] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.64] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.10] Chorus\n[03:40.56] Chorus\n[03:49.17] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.31] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.38] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.35] All the alleyways\n[03:56.91] For all our decesed\n[03:58.43] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.51] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.57] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands In the Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: UNRELEASED & REVAMPED(EP)\n  duration_ms: 248000\n  instrumental: false\n  language: en\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 870\n  end_ms: 1410\n  words:\n  - text: 'Intro: '\n    start_ms: 870\n  - text: 'Sen '\n    start_ms: 1410\n  - text: Dog\n    start_ms: 1410\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 1910\n  end_ms: 1910\n  words:\n  - text: Yeah\n    start_ms: 1910\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 1950\n  end_ms: 5030\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bust '\n    start_ms: 1950\n  - text: 'how '\n    start_ms: 2150\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 2390\n  - text: 'gonna '\n    start_ms: 2510\n  - text: 'bounce '\n    start_ms: 2770\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 3110\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 3290\n  - text: ninety-\n    start_ms: 3510\n  - text: 'five '\n    start_ms: 3830\n  - text: 'Soul '\n    start_ms: 4210\n  - text: Assassins\n    start_ms: 4450\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5090\n  end_ms: 6110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Cypress '\n    start_ms: 5090\n  - text: 'Hill '\n    start_ms: 5530\n  - text: joint.\n    start_ms: 5850\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6630\n  end_ms: 9290\n  words:\n  - text: 'Yo '\n    start_ms: 6630\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 6810\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 6970\n  - text: 'everybody '\n    start_ms: 7190\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 7730\n  - text: 'there '\n    start_ms: 7970\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 8210\n  - text: 'throw '\n    start_ms: 8350\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 8570\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 8710\n  - text: up...\n    start_ms: 9170\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 10730\n  words:\n  - text: '...so '\n    start_ms: 9730\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 9910\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 10110\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 10270\n  - text: kid!\n    start_ms: 10570\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 10750\n  end_ms: 10750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 10750\n  - text: 'One: '\n    start_ms: 10750\n  - text: 'Erick '\n    start_ms: 10750\n  - text: Sermon\n    start_ms: 10750\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 10860\n  end_ms: 14100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fresh '\n    start_ms: 10860\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 11260\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 11420\n  - text: 'word, '\n    start_ms: 11600\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 12080\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 12300\n  - text: 'display '\n    start_ms: 12460\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 13040\n  - text: 'rappin '\n    start_ms: 13240\n  - text: forte\n    start_ms: 13680\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 14210\n  end_ms: 16110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Quicker '\n    start_ms: 14210\n  - text: 'done '\n    start_ms: 14610\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 14950\n  - text: O.\n    start_ms: 15310\n  - text: 'J., '\n    start_ms: 15590\n  - text: hey\n    start_ms: 15990\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16380\n  end_ms: 18700\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 16380\n  - text: 'freaks '\n    start_ms: 16500\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 16780\n  - text: 'shit, '\n    start_ms: 16980\n  - text: 'E '\n    start_ms: 17540\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 17820\n  - text: 'lyrical '\n    start_ms: 17920\n  - text: master\n    start_ms: 18320\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18780\n  end_ms: 21420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Stress '\n    start_ms: 18780\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 19140\n  - text: 'out, '\n    start_ms: 19380\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 19680\n  - text: 'doubt, '\n    start_ms: 19900\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 20260\n  - text: 'might '\n    start_ms: 20340\n  - text: 'have '\n    start_ms: 20620\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 20840\n  - text: 'blast '\n    start_ms: 21000\n  - text: ya\n    start_ms: 21360\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 23990\n  words:\n  - text: 'Let '\n    start_ms: 21490\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 21750\n  - text: 'ask '\n    start_ms: 22050\n  - text: 'ya, '\n    start_ms: 22310\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 22550\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 22710\n  - text: 'gets '\n    start_ms: 22810\n  - text: 'busy '\n    start_ms: 23010\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 23390\n  - text: time?\n    start_ms: 23690\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24110\n  end_ms: 26550\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 24110\n  - text: 'unwind '\n    start_ms: 24330\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 24890\n  - text: 'chill, '\n    start_ms: 25130\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 25630\n  - text: 'Cypress '\n    start_ms: 25830\n  - text: Hill\n    start_ms: 26350\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26800\n  end_ms: 29080\n  words:\n  - text: 'Huh, '\n    start_ms: 26800\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 27180\n  - text: 'go '\n    start_ms: 27280\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 27580\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 28000\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 28160\n  - text: 'bad '\n    start_ms: 28380\n  - text: self\n    start_ms: 28840\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29420\n  end_ms: 32100\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 29420\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 29540\n  - text: 'four '\n    start_ms: 29740\n  - text: 'pound '\n    start_ms: 30080\n  - text: 'toter, '\n    start_ms: 30420\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 30920\n  - text: 'Phil '\n    start_ms: 31080\n  - text: 'blunt '\n    start_ms: 31420\n  - text: smoker\n    start_ms: 31760\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32690\n  end_ms: 35370\n  words:\n  - text: 'Believe '\n    start_ms: 32690\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 33150\n  - text: 'not, '\n    start_ms: 33370\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 33750\n  - text: 'wicked '\n    start_ms: 33870\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 34190\n  - text: 'three '\n    start_ms: 34490\n  - text: sixes\n    start_ms: 34870\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35660\n  end_ms: 37800\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 35660\n  - text: 'doper '\n    start_ms: 35820\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 36140\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 36320\n  - text: 'Pete '\n    start_ms: 36520\n  - text: 'Rock '\n    start_ms: 36840\n  - text: remixes\n    start_ms: 37180\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38420\n  end_ms: 40100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Never '\n    start_ms: 38420\n  - text: 'walk '\n    start_ms: 38800\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 39060\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 39260\n  - text: 'crowd '\n    start_ms: 39420\n  - text: sluggish\n    start_ms: 39760\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40330\n  end_ms: 42810\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 40330\n  - text: 'hardcore '\n    start_ms: 40490\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 41110\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 41290\n  - text: 'Bone, '\n    start_ms: 41470\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 41970\n  - text: 'Thuggish '\n    start_ms: 42090\n  - text: Ruggish\n    start_ms: 42510\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 43050\n  end_ms: 46830\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 43050\n  - text: Green-\n    start_ms: 43210\n  - text: 'Eyed, '\n    start_ms: 43570\n  - text: 'Bandit, '\n    start_ms: 44210\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 44930\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 45050\n  - text: 'ERRRICK '\n    start_ms: 45330\n  - text: SERRRMON\n    start_ms: 45930\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 47100\n  end_ms: 48180\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 47100\n  - text: 'gets '\n    start_ms: 47200\n  - text: 'real '\n    start_ms: 47420\n  - text: determined\n    start_ms: 47660\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48410\n  end_ms: 50870\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 48410\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 48610\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 48890\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 49050\n  - text: 'trouble, '\n    start_ms: 49250\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 49770\n  - text: 'two '\n    start_ms: 49970\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 50250\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 50450\n  - text: bass\n    start_ms: 50630\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 51140\n  end_ms: 53520\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 51140\n  - text: 'take '\n    start_ms: 51260\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 51420\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 51560\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 51740\n  - text: 'face '\n    start_ms: 51940\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 52280\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 52440\n  - text: 'here '\n    start_ms: 52640\n  - text: 'lyrical '\n    start_ms: 52800\n  - text: mace\n    start_ms: 53300\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53800\n  end_ms: 56240\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 53800\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 53940\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 54120\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 54320\n  - text: 'know, '\n    start_ms: 54640\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 54960\n  - text: 'better '\n    start_ms: 55280\n  - text: recognize\n    start_ms: 55620\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56440\n  end_ms: 58900\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 56440\n  - text: 'coming '\n    start_ms: 56620\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 56940\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 57120\n  - text: 'speed, '\n    start_ms: 57400\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 58020\n  - text: 'pounds '\n    start_ms: 58240\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 58580\n  - text: weed\n    start_ms: 58720\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58920\n  end_ms: 59040\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 58920\n  - text: 'Two: '\n    start_ms: 58959\n  - text: B-\n    start_ms: 58999\n  - text: Real\n    start_ms: 59019\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59470\n  end_ms: 61470\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ahh '\n    start_ms: 59470\n  - text: 'shit, '\n    start_ms: 59500\n  - text: 'another '\n    start_ms: 59530\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 60050\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 60230\n  - text: 'those '\n    start_ms: 60370\n  - text: 'gangsta '\n    start_ms: 60690\n  - text: hits\n    start_ms: 61210\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61710\n  end_ms: 64109\n  words:\n  - text: 'Niggaz '\n    start_ms: 61710\n  - text: 'wanna '\n    start_ms: 62050\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 62410\n  - text: 'busy '\n    start_ms: 62690\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 63050\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 63250\n  - text: ultimate\n    start_ms: 63470\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64330\n  end_ms: 66750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fools '\n    start_ms: 64330\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 64690\n  - text: 'real, '\n    start_ms: 65030\n  - text: 'yo '\n    start_ms: 65350\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 65550\n  - text: 'representin '\n    start_ms: 65690\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 66350\n  - text: Hill\n    start_ms: 66550\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67030\n  end_ms: 69630\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 67030\n  - text: 'chips '\n    start_ms: 67350\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 67690\n  - text: 'clips '\n    start_ms: 67970\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 68310\n  - text: 'tons '\n    start_ms: 68550\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 68850\n  - text: 'blue '\n    start_ms: 68990\n  - text: steel\n    start_ms: 69350\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 72410\n  words:\n  - text: 'So '\n    start_ms: 69930\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 70110\n  - text: 'wants '\n    start_ms: 70330\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 70630\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 70810\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 71090\n  - text: 'first '\n    start_ms: 71270\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 71610\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 71910\n  - text: die?\n    start_ms: 72130\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72410\n  end_ms: 75070\n  words:\n  - text: 'Then '\n    start_ms: 72410\n  - text: 'try '\n    start_ms: 72630\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 72930\n  - text: 'test '\n    start_ms: 73130\n  - text: 'this, '\n    start_ms: 73450\n  - text: 'buddha '\n    start_ms: 73790\n  - text: 'blessed '\n    start_ms: 74150\n  - text: Gemini\n    start_ms: 74490\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75850\n  end_ms: 77990\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 75850\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 76010\n  - text: 'thrown '\n    start_ms: 76150\n  - text: 'sent '\n    start_ms: 76550\n  - text: 'home '\n    start_ms: 76870\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 77230\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 77390\n  - text: coffin\n    start_ms: 77550\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78180\n  end_ms: 80680\n  words:\n  - text: 'Punk '\n    start_ms: 78180\n  - text: 'stuff '\n    start_ms: 78480\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 78760\n  - text: 'make '\n    start_ms: 78840\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 79100\n  - text: 'back, '\n    start_ms: 79360\n  - text: 'very '\n    start_ms: 79820\n  - text: often\n    start_ms: 80240\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 81000\n  end_ms: 83200\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 81000\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 81140\n  - text: 'Erick '\n    start_ms: 81520\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 81800\n  - text: 'take '\n    start_ms: 82020\n  - text: 'care '\n    start_ms: 82300\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 82540\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 82660\n  - text: Sermon\n    start_ms: 82860\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83580\n  end_ms: 86060\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ashes '\n    start_ms: 83580\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 84040\n  - text: 'ashes, '\n    start_ms: 84280\n  - text: 'dust, '\n    start_ms: 84720\n  - text: 'bodies '\n    start_ms: 85220\n  - text: burnin\n    start_ms: 85700\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86580\n  end_ms: 88720\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bustin '\n    start_ms: 86580\n  - text: 'open '\n    start_ms: 87020\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 87300\n  - text: 'doors '\n    start_ms: 87500\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 87960\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 88140\n  - text: temple\n    start_ms: 88360\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88950\n  end_ms: 94270\n  words:\n  - text: 'Takin '\n    start_ms: 88950\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 89370\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 89610\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 89830\n  - text: 'dark '\n    start_ms: 90010\n  - text: 'side '\n    start_ms: 90370\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 90650\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 90890\n  - text: mental\n    start_ms: 91070\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 101340\n  end_ms: 101580\n  words:\n  - text: 'Chorus: '\n    start_ms: 101340\n  - text: B-\n    start_ms: 101486\n  - text: Real\n    start_ms: 101533\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 102290\n  end_ms: 105340\n  words:\n  - text: 'Kickin '\n    start_ms: 102290\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 102627\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 102765\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 102944\n  - text: 'brothers '\n    start_ms: 103102\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 103498\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 103637\n  - text: 'corners, '\n    start_ms: 103815\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 104488\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 104647\n  - text: alleys\n    start_ms: 104865\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 105340\n  end_ms: 106560\n  words:\n  - text: 'Throw '\n    start_ms: 105340\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 105600\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 105740\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 106120\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 106260\n  - text: air\n    start_ms: 106400\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 107510\n  end_ms: 110590\n  words:\n  - text: 'Kickin '\n    start_ms: 107510\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 107850\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 108010\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 108190\n  - text: 'brothers '\n    start_ms: 108350\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 108750\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 108890\n  - text: 'corners, '\n    start_ms: 109070\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 109730\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 109910\n  - text: alleys\n    start_ms: 110130\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 110790\n  end_ms: 112110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Throw '\n    start_ms: 110790\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 111030\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 111250\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 111590\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 111770\n  - text: air\n    start_ms: 111970\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 112650\n  end_ms: 112650\n  words:\n  - text: Chorus\n    start_ms: 112650\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112650\n  end_ms: 112650\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 112650\n  - text: 'Three: '\n    start_ms: 112650\n  - text: Redman\n    start_ms: 112650\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 112650\n  end_ms: 115530\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 112650\n  - text: 'rhyme '\n    start_ms: 112810\n  - text: 'tricky, '\n    start_ms: 113130\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 113630\n  - text: 'sticky '\n    start_ms: 113810\n  - text: 'smoka '\n    start_ms: 114210\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 114590\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 114770\n  - text: 'mind '\n    start_ms: 114930\n  - text: itchy\n    start_ms: 115250\n- text: finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 115740\n  end_ms: 118060\n  words:\n  - text: 'finger '\n    start_ms: 115740\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 116080\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 116280\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 116400\n  - text: 'pen, '\n    start_ms: 116580\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 116840\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 116980\n  - text: '\"He '\n    start_ms: 117210\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 117340\n  - text: 'bomb, '\n    start_ms: 117540\n  - text: dicky!\"\n    start_ms: 117880\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 118380\n  end_ms: 120960\n  words:\n  - text: 'These '\n    start_ms: 118380\n  - text: off-\n    start_ms: 118660\n  - text: 'keys '\n    start_ms: 118880\n  - text: 'MC''s '\n    start_ms: 119180\n  - text: 'hawk '\n    start_ms: 119560\n  - text: 'me, '\n    start_ms: 119840\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 120120\n  - text: 'won''t '\n    start_ms: 120280\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 120460\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 120660\n  - text: me\n    start_ms: 120880\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 121140\n  end_ms: 123920\n  words:\n  - text: 'So '\n    start_ms: 121140\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 121360\n  - text: 'kill '\n    start_ms: 121480\n  - text: 'em '\n    start_ms: 121640\n  - text: 'softly '\n    start_ms: 121840\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 122280\n  - text: 'use '\n    start_ms: 122440\n  - text: 'em '\n    start_ms: 122620\n  - text: 'as '\n    start_ms: 122760\n  - text: 'walkie '\n    start_ms: 122940\n  - text: 'talkies '\n    start_ms: 123340\n  - text: '*bzzzzt*'\n    start_ms: 123780\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 124180\n  end_ms: 126280\n  words:\n  - text: 'Turn '\n    start_ms: 124180\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 124420\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 124540\n  - text: 'level '\n    start_ms: 124700\n  - text: 'adjust '\n    start_ms: 125000\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 125460\n  - text: 'voice '\n    start_ms: 125680\n  - text: pitch\n    start_ms: 126040\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 126540\n  end_ms: 129100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hoist '\n    start_ms: 126540\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 126920\n  - text: 'diagnosis, '\n    start_ms: 127180\n  - text: comatosis\n    start_ms: 128320\n- text: is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 129150\n  end_ms: 132191\n  words:\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 129150\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 129311\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 129531\n  - text: 'leave '\n    start_ms: 129631\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 129811\n  - text: 'crew '\n    start_ms: 130011\n  - text: 'with, '\n    start_ms: 130231\n  - text: 'boom '\n    start_ms: 130571\n  - text: 'bip '\n    start_ms: 130831\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 131050\n  - text: 'some '\n    start_ms: 131211\n  - text: 'two '\n    start_ms: 131431\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 131571\n  - text: 'two '\n    start_ms: 131771\n  - text: shit\n    start_ms: 132051\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 132490\n  end_ms: 134590\n  words:\n  - text: 'Raw '\n    start_ms: 132490\n  - text: 'silk, '\n    start_ms: 132810\n  - text: 'cuz '\n    start_ms: 133070\n  - text: 'YOU '\n    start_ms: 133270\n  - text: 'DO '\n    start_ms: 133450\n  - text: 'IT '\n    start_ms: 133630\n  - text: 'TO '\n    start_ms: 133750\n  - text: 'MY '\n    start_ms: 133890\n  - text: MUSIC\n    start_ms: 134110\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 134590\n  end_ms: 137250\n  words:\n  - text: '*Funk '\n    start_ms: 134990\n  - text: 'Doctor '\n    start_ms: 135350\n  - text: 'Spock* '\n    start_ms: 135810\n  - text: 'lock '\n    start_ms: 136310\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 136590\n  - text: hypest\n    start_ms: 136770\n- text: individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 137460\n  end_ms: 139920\n  words:\n  - text: 'individual, '\n    start_ms: 137460\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 138340\n  - text: 'put '\n    start_ms: 138500\n  - text: 'criminal '\n    start_ms: 138760\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 139300\n  - text: diapers\n    start_ms: 139480\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140140\n  end_ms: 142620\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 140140\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 140300\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 140460\n  - text: 'E '\n    start_ms: 140800\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 140920\n  - text: 'Cypress, '\n    start_ms: 141100\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 141820\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 142040\n  - text: 'write '\n    start_ms: 142120\n  - text: bitch\n    start_ms: 142440\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142920\n  end_ms: 145340\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 142920\n  - text: 'swore, '\n    start_ms: 143100\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 143440\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 143560\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 143800\n  - text: 'nuclear '\n    start_ms: 143920\n  - text: 'war, '\n    start_ms: 144420\n  - text: crisis\n    start_ms: 144860\n- text: in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145530\n  end_ms: 147770\n  words:\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 145530\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 145690\n  - text: 'back '\n    start_ms: 145870\n  - text: 'yard, '\n    start_ms: 146190\n  - text: 'word '\n    start_ms: 146470\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 146710\n  - text: 'God, '\n    start_ms: 146890\n  - text: 'Def '\n    start_ms: 147210\n  - text: Squad!\n    start_ms: 147490\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148160\n  end_ms: 150640\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 148160\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 148360\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 148520\n  - text: 'Keith '\n    start_ms: 148920\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 149240\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 149360\n  - text: 'place '\n    start_ms: 149540\n  - text: 'takin '\n    start_ms: 149840\n  - text: charge\n    start_ms: 150240\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150950\n  end_ms: 153470\n  words:\n  - text: 'Word '\n    start_ms: 150950\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 151170\n  - text: 'you''ll '\n    start_ms: 151310\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 151450\n  - text: 'hurt '\n    start_ms: 151610\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 151870\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 151990\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 152150\n  - text: 'jury '\n    start_ms: 152330\n  - text: 'callin '\n    start_ms: 152710\n  - text: murder\n    start_ms: 153110\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153750\n  end_ms: 155990\n  words:\n  - text: 'You''re '\n    start_ms: 153750\n  - text: 'deaf '\n    start_ms: 153950\n  - text: 'cuz '\n    start_ms: 154210\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 154470\n  - text: 'freak '\n    start_ms: 154570\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 154810\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 155110\n  - text: 'neva '\n    start_ms: 155270\n  - text: 'heard '\n    start_ms: 155610\n  - text: of\n    start_ms: 155850\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 157500\n  end_ms: 159040\n  words:\n  - text: Chorus\n    start_ms: 157500\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 164260\n  end_ms: 165660\n  words:\n  - text: 'Verse '\n    start_ms: 164260\n  - text: 'Four: '\n    start_ms: 164580\n  - text: 'MC '\n    start_ms: 165160\n  - text: Eiht\n    start_ms: 165360\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 166900\n  end_ms: 169220\n  words:\n  - text: 'Steppin '\n    start_ms: 166900\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 167280\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 167460\n  - text: 'park '\n    start_ms: 167640\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 167900\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 168000\n  - text: 'Hill '\n    start_ms: 168160\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 168460\n  - text: 'can''t '\n    start_ms: 168660\n  - text: hang\n    start_ms: 169000\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169590\n  end_ms: 171810\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 169590\n  - text: 'original '\n    start_ms: 169850\n  - text: 'baby '\n    start_ms: 170070\n  - text: 'gangsta '\n    start_ms: 170410\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 170810\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 170930\n  - text: 'Compton '\n    start_ms: 171130\n  - text: thang\n    start_ms: 171650\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 172060\n  end_ms: 174620\n  words:\n  - text: 'Don''t '\n    start_ms: 172060\n  - text: 'slip, '\n    start_ms: 172360\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 172900\n  - text: 'late '\n    start_ms: 173080\n  - text: 'night '\n    start_ms: 173340\n  - text: 'hype, '\n    start_ms: 173580\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 173880\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 174040\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 174260\n  - text: dip\n    start_ms: 174460\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 174880\n  end_ms: 177100\n  words:\n  - text: Boo-\n    start_ms: 174880\n  - text: 'yaa '\n    start_ms: 175160\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 175440\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 175600\n  - text: 'sound '\n    start_ms: 175820\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 176080\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 176300\n  - text: 'lonely '\n    start_ms: 176420\n  - text: clip\n    start_ms: 176920\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177470\n  end_ms: 180210\n  words:\n  - text: 'Can''t '\n    start_ms: 177470\n  - text: 'feel '\n    start_ms: 177830\n  - text: 'me, '\n    start_ms: 178070\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 178570\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 178690\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 178810\n  - text: 'crack '\n    start_ms: 179010\n  - text: 'you''d '\n    start_ms: 179290\n  - text: 'try '\n    start_ms: 179450\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 179630\n  - text: 'steal '\n    start_ms: 179870\n  - text: me\n    start_ms: 180150\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180420\n  end_ms: 182840\n  words:\n  - text: 'Heard '\n    start_ms: 180420\n  - text: 'you, '\n    start_ms: 180700\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 180960\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 181100\n  - text: 'little '\n    start_ms: 181320\n  - text: 'crew, '\n    start_ms: 181660\n  - text: 'wanna '\n    start_ms: 182100\n  - text: 'peel '\n    start_ms: 182480\n  - text: me\n    start_ms: 182760\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183420\n  end_ms: 185160\n  words:\n  - text: 'Keep '\n    start_ms: 183420\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 183640\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 183820\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 184160\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 184280\n  - text: 'hood, '\n    start_ms: 184460\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 184660\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 184800\n  - text: got\n    start_ms: 185020\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185270\n  end_ms: 188130\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 185270\n  - text: Green-\n    start_ms: 185430\n  - text: 'Eyed '\n    start_ms: 185630\n  - text: 'Bandit, '\n    start_ms: 185830\n  - text: 'Cypress '\n    start_ms: 186190\n  - text: 'Hill, '\n    start_ms: 186530\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 186830\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 186990\n  - text: 'Funk '\n    start_ms: 187150\n  - text: 'Doctor '\n    start_ms: 187450\n  - text: Spock\n    start_ms: 187810\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 189060\n  end_ms: 190780\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 189060\n  - text: 'wish '\n    start_ms: 189180\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 189420\n  - text: 'could '\n    start_ms: 189540\n  - text: 'hang, '\n    start_ms: 189760\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 190240\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 190520\n  - text: hang\n    start_ms: 190620\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 191240\n  end_ms: 193440\n  words:\n  - text: 'Dwells '\n    start_ms: 191240\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 191640\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 191780\n  - text: C-\n    start_ms: 191960\n  - text: P-\n    start_ms: 192200\n  - text: 'T, '\n    start_ms: 192460\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 192760\n  - text: 'hood '\n    start_ms: 192920\n  - text: thing\n    start_ms: 193260\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 194260\n  end_ms: 196340\n  words:\n  - text: 'G, '\n    start_ms: 194260\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 194420\n  - text: 'trigga '\n    start_ms: 194560\n  - text: 'finger, '\n    start_ms: 194980\n  - text: 'I''ma '\n    start_ms: 195640\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 195960\n  - text: you\n    start_ms: 196220\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 196510\n  end_ms: 198950\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hit '\n    start_ms: 196510\n  - text: 'you, '\n    start_ms: 196770\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 197030\n  - text: 'Tech '\n    start_ms: 197230\n  - text: '9, '\n    start_ms: 197770\n  - text: 'I''ma '\n    start_ms: 198190\n  - text: 'split '\n    start_ms: 198430\n  - text: you\n    start_ms: 198890\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199960\n  end_ms: 201700\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ain''t '\n    start_ms: 199960\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 200240\n  - text: 'poppin, '\n    start_ms: 200520\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 201060\n  - text: stoppin\n    start_ms: 201320\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 202080\n  end_ms: 204420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Tick '\n    start_ms: 202080\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 202380\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 202620\n  - text: 'tock, '\n    start_ms: 202760\n  - text: 'tick '\n    start_ms: 202980\n  - text: 'tock '\n    start_ms: 203280\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 203620\n  - text: 'hit '\n    start_ms: 203700\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 203880\n  - text: block\n    start_ms: 204100\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204960\n  end_ms: 207060\n  words:\n  - text: 'Throw '\n    start_ms: 204960\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 205180\n  - text: 'hands '\n    start_ms: 205380\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 205720\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 205860\n  - text: 'air, '\n    start_ms: 206120\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 206380\n  - text: 'bite '\n    start_ms: 206640\n  - text: this\n    start_ms: 206900\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207150\n  end_ms: 221670\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 207150\n  - text: 'squeeze, '\n    start_ms: 207350\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 207730\n  - text: 'please, '\n    start_ms: 208070\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 208430\n  - text: 'E '\n    start_ms: 208710\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 209050\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 209230\n  - text: Cypress\n    start_ms: 209450\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 225530\n  end_ms: 228090\n  words:\n  - text: Chorus\n    start_ms: 225530\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 229240\n  end_ms: 229940\n  words:\n  - text: Chorus\n    start_ms: 229240\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 230300\n  end_ms: 232200\n  words:\n  - text: 'Outro: '\n    start_ms: 230300\n  - text: 'Sen '\n    start_ms: 232200\n  - text: Dog\n    start_ms: 232200\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 232580\n  end_ms: 233440\n  words:\n  - text: 'Aight, '\n    start_ms: 232580\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 232720\n  - text: everybody\n    start_ms: 232900\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233540\n  end_ms: 235320\n  words:\n  - text: 'All '\n    start_ms: 233540\n  - text: 'our '\n    start_ms: 233780\n  - text: 'peeps '\n    start_ms: 234000\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 234360\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 234500\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 234580\n  - text: corners\n    start_ms: 234740\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235490\n  end_ms: 236570\n  words:\n  - text: 'All '\n    start_ms: 235490\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 235630\n  - text: alleyways\n    start_ms: 235810\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 237130\n  end_ms: 238230\n  words:\n  - text: 'For '\n    start_ms: 237130\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 237290\n  - text: 'our '\n    start_ms: 237410\n  - text: decesed\n    start_ms: 237610\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238780\n  end_ms: 241640\n  words:\n  - text: 'Incarcerated '\n    start_ms: 238780\n  - text: 'peeps, '\n    start_ms: 239580\n  - text: 'brothers '\n    start_ms: 240400\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 240820\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 240940\n  - text: streets\n    start_ms: 241120\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 243310\n  end_ms: 244650\n  words:\n  - text: 'Nineteen '\n    start_ms: 243310\n  - text: ninety-\n    start_ms: 243770\n  - text: five\n    start_ms: 244130\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 245460\n  end_ms: 247420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Soul '\n    start_ms: 245460\n  - text: 'Assassins '\n    start_ms: 245680\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 246260\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 246400\n  - text: mind\n    start_ms: 246580\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":31180255,"name":"Throw Your Hands in the Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands in the Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Unreleased & Revamped","duration":241.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nFinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nIs what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nIndividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nIn your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.59] Yeah\n[00:04.03] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.12] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.57] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.69] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.00] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.71] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.02] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.51] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.49] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.06] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.76] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.14] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.11] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.37] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.01] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.42] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.94] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.84] I gets real determined\n[00:48.71] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.48] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.23] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.96] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.45] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.69] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.22] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.06] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.98] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.45] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.66] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.10] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.33] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.50] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.67] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.25] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.72] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.85] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.47] Chorus\n[01:52.41] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.36] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.48] Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.59] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.87] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.20] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.64] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.11] Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.91] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.18] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.10] Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.15] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.96] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.45] In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.05] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.52] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.82] Chorus\n[02:46.83] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.28] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.43] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.80] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.62] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.38] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.07] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.55] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.39] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.93] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.47] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.66] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.63] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.65] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.64] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.10] Chorus\n[03:40.56] Chorus\n[03:49.17] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.31] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.38] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.35] All the alleyways\n[03:56.91] For all our decesed\n[03:58.43] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.51] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.57] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands in the Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Unreleased & Revamped\n  duration_ms: 241000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3590\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3590\n  end_ms: 4030\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4030\n  end_ms: 5120\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5120\n  end_ms: 6570\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6570\n  end_ms: 9690\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 11000\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11000\n  end_ms: 11710\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11710\n  end_ms: 13020\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13020\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18510\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18510\n  end_ms: 21490\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 24060\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24060\n  end_ms: 26760\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26760\n  end_ms: 29140\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29140\n  end_ms: 32110\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32110\n  end_ms: 35370\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35370\n  end_ms: 38010\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38010\n  end_ms: 40420\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40420\n  end_ms: 42940\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42940\n  end_ms: 46840\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46840\n  end_ms: 48710\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48710\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53480\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53480\n  end_ms: 56230\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56230\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 59450\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59450\n  end_ms: 61690\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61690\n  end_ms: 64220\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64220\n  end_ms: 67060\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67060\n  end_ms: 69980\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69980\n  end_ms: 72450\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72450\n  end_ms: 75660\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75660\n  end_ms: 78100\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78100\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 86500\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86500\n  end_ms: 88670\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88670\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 91720\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91720\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103470\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103470\n  end_ms: 112410\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112410\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 118480\n- text: Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118480\n  end_ms: 121590\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121590\n  end_ms: 127870\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127870\n  end_ms: 131200\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131200\n  end_ms: 132640\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132640\n  end_ms: 133110\n- text: Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133110\n  end_ms: 134910\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134910\n  end_ms: 136180\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136180\n  end_ms: 138100\n- text: Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138100\n  end_ms: 140150\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140150\n  end_ms: 142960\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142960\n  end_ms: 145450\n- text: In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145450\n  end_ms: 148050\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148050\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153520\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153520\n  end_ms: 155820\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155820\n  end_ms: 166830\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166830\n  end_ms: 167280\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167280\n  end_ms: 169430\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169430\n  end_ms: 171800\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171800\n  end_ms: 175620\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175620\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180380\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180380\n  end_ms: 183070\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183070\n  end_ms: 185550\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185550\n  end_ms: 188390\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188390\n  end_ms: 190930\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190930\n  end_ms: 193470\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193470\n  end_ms: 195660\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195660\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201630\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201630\n  end_ms: 204650\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204650\n  end_ms: 207640\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207640\n  end_ms: 210100\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210100\n  end_ms: 220560\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220560\n  end_ms: 229170\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229170\n  end_ms: 231310\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231310\n  end_ms: 233380\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233380\n  end_ms: 235350\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235350\n  end_ms: 236910\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236910\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 241510\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241510\n  end_ms: 244570\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244570\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":18265362,"name":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Unrelased And Revamped","duration":247.666939,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nfinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nis what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nindividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nin your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.50] Yeah\n[00:04.09] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.16] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.56] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.64] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.01] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.77] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.01] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.55] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.44] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.01] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.75] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.18] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.13] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.36] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.05] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.49] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.92] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.86] I gets real determined\n[00:48.77] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.46] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.20] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.97] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.43] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.60] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.27] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.05] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.93] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.40] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.65] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.11] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.31] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.56] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.68] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.29] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.77] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.83] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.41] Chorus\n[01:52.48] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.30] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.45] finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.55] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.85] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.25] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.69] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.12] is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.92] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.13] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.18] individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.13] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.91] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.42] in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.03] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.57] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.85] Chorus\n[02:46.89] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.23] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.47] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.86] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.65] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.35] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.04] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.50] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.36] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.97] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.41] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.68] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.61] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.63] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.61] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.17] Chorus\n[03:40.59] Chorus\n[03:49.19] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.39] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.32] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.33] All the alleyways\n[03:56.98] For all our decesed\n[03:58.45] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.54] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.50] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands In The Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Unrelased And Revamped\n  duration_ms: 247667\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3500\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3500\n  end_ms: 4090\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4090\n  end_ms: 5160\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5160\n  end_ms: 6560\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6560\n  end_ms: 9640\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9640\n  end_ms: 11010\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11010\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 13010\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13010\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18550\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18550\n  end_ms: 21440\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21440\n  end_ms: 24010\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24010\n  end_ms: 26750\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26750\n  end_ms: 29180\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29180\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35360\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35360\n  end_ms: 38050\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38050\n  end_ms: 40490\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40490\n  end_ms: 42920\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42920\n  end_ms: 46860\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46860\n  end_ms: 48770\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48770\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53460\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53460\n  end_ms: 56200\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56200\n  end_ms: 58970\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58970\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61600\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61600\n  end_ms: 64270\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64270\n  end_ms: 67050\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67050\n  end_ms: 69930\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 75650\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75650\n  end_ms: 78110\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78110\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83310\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83310\n  end_ms: 86560\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86560\n  end_ms: 88680\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88680\n  end_ms: 91290\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91290\n  end_ms: 91770\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91770\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96830\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96830\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 112480\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112480\n  end_ms: 113300\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113300\n  end_ms: 118450\n- text: finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118450\n  end_ms: 121550\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121550\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 131250\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131250\n  end_ms: 132690\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132690\n  end_ms: 133120\n- text: is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133120\n  end_ms: 134920\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134920\n  end_ms: 136130\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136130\n  end_ms: 138180\n- text: individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138180\n  end_ms: 140130\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140130\n  end_ms: 142910\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142910\n  end_ms: 145420\n- text: in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145420\n  end_ms: 148030\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148030\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153570\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153570\n  end_ms: 155850\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155850\n  end_ms: 166890\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166890\n  end_ms: 167230\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167230\n  end_ms: 169470\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169470\n  end_ms: 171860\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171860\n  end_ms: 175650\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175650\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 183040\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183040\n  end_ms: 185500\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185500\n  end_ms: 188360\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188360\n  end_ms: 190970\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190970\n  end_ms: 193410\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193410\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201610\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201610\n  end_ms: 204630\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204630\n  end_ms: 207610\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207610\n  end_ms: 210170\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210170\n  end_ms: 220590\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220590\n  end_ms: 229190\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229190\n  end_ms: 231390\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231390\n  end_ms: 233320\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233320\n  end_ms: 235330\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235330\n  end_ms: 236980\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236980\n  end_ms: 238450\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238450\n  end_ms: 241540\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241540\n  end_ms: 244500\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244500\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":24993716,"name":"throw your hands in the air","trackName":"throw your hands in the air","artistName":"cypress hill","albumName":"unreleased and revamped","duration":247.696,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nFinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nIs what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nIndividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nIn your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.59] Yeah\n[00:04.03] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.12] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.57] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.69] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.00] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.71] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.02] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.51] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.49] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.06] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.76] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.14] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.11] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.37] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.01] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.42] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.94] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.84] I gets real determined\n[00:48.71] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.48] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.23] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.96] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.45] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.69] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.22] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.06] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.98] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.45] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.66] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.10] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.33] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.50] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.67] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.25] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.72] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.85] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.47] Chorus\n[01:52.41] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.36] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.48] Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.59] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.87] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.20] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.64] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.11] Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.91] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.18] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.10] Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.15] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.96] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.45] In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.05] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.52] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.82] Chorus\n[02:46.83] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.28] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.43] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.80] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.62] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.38] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.07] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.55] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.39] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.93] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.47] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.66] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.63] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.65] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.64] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.10] Chorus\n[03:40.56] Chorus\n[03:49.17] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.31] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.38] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.35] All the alleyways\n[03:56.91] For all our decesed\n[03:58.43] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.51] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.57] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: throw your hands in the air\n  artist: cypress hill\n  album: unreleased and revamped\n  duration_ms: 247696\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3590\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3590\n  end_ms: 4030\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4030\n  end_ms: 5120\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5120\n  end_ms: 6570\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6570\n  end_ms: 9690\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 11000\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11000\n  end_ms: 11710\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11710\n  end_ms: 13020\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13020\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18510\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18510\n  end_ms: 21490\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 24060\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24060\n  end_ms: 26760\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26760\n  end_ms: 29140\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29140\n  end_ms: 32110\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32110\n  end_ms: 35370\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35370\n  end_ms: 38010\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38010\n  end_ms: 40420\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40420\n  end_ms: 42940\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42940\n  end_ms: 46840\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46840\n  end_ms: 48710\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48710\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53480\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53480\n  end_ms: 56230\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56230\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 59450\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59450\n  end_ms: 61690\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61690\n  end_ms: 64220\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64220\n  end_ms: 67060\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67060\n  end_ms: 69980\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69980\n  end_ms: 72450\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72450\n  end_ms: 75660\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75660\n  end_ms: 78100\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78100\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 86500\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86500\n  end_ms: 88670\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88670\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 91720\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91720\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103470\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103470\n  end_ms: 112410\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112410\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 118480\n- text: Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118480\n  end_ms: 121590\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121590\n  end_ms: 127870\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127870\n  end_ms: 131200\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131200\n  end_ms: 132640\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132640\n  end_ms: 133110\n- text: Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133110\n  end_ms: 134910\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134910\n  end_ms: 136180\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136180\n  end_ms: 138100\n- text: Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138100\n  end_ms: 140150\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140150\n  end_ms: 142960\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142960\n  end_ms: 145450\n- text: In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145450\n  end_ms: 148050\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148050\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153520\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153520\n  end_ms: 155820\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155820\n  end_ms: 166830\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166830\n  end_ms: 167280\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167280\n  end_ms: 169430\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169430\n  end_ms: 171800\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171800\n  end_ms: 175620\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175620\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180380\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180380\n  end_ms: 183070\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183070\n  end_ms: 185550\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185550\n  end_ms: 188390\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188390\n  end_ms: 190930\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190930\n  end_ms: 193470\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193470\n  end_ms: 195660\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195660\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201630\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201630\n  end_ms: 204650\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204650\n  end_ms: 207640\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207640\n  end_ms: 210100\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210100\n  end_ms: 220560\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220560\n  end_ms: 229170\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229170\n  end_ms: 231310\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231310\n  end_ms: 233380\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233380\n  end_ms: 235350\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235350\n  end_ms: 236910\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236910\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 241510\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241510\n  end_ms: 244570\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244570\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":12096337,"name":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Unrelased & Revamped","duration":249.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nfinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nis what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nindividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nin your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.50] Yeah\n[00:04.09] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.16] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.56] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.64] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.01] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.77] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.01] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.55] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.44] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.01] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.75] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.18] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.13] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.36] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.05] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.49] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.92] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.86] I gets real determined\n[00:48.77] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.46] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.20] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.97] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.43] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.60] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.27] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.05] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.93] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.40] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.65] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.11] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.31] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.56] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.68] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.29] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.77] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.83] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.41] Chorus\n[01:52.48] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.30] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.45] finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.55] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.85] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.25] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.69] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.12] is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.92] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.13] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.18] individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.13] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.91] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.42] in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.03] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.57] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.85] Chorus\n[02:46.89] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.23] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.47] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.86] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.65] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.35] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.04] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.50] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.36] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.97] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.41] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.68] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.61] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.63] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.61] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.17] Chorus\n[03:40.59] Chorus\n[03:49.19] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.39] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.32] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.33] All the alleyways\n[03:56.98] For all our decesed\n[03:58.45] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.54] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.50] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands In The Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Unrelased & Revamped\n  duration_ms: 249000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3500\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3500\n  end_ms: 4090\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4090\n  end_ms: 5160\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5160\n  end_ms: 6560\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6560\n  end_ms: 9640\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9640\n  end_ms: 11010\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11010\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 13010\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13010\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18550\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18550\n  end_ms: 21440\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21440\n  end_ms: 24010\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24010\n  end_ms: 26750\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26750\n  end_ms: 29180\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29180\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35360\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35360\n  end_ms: 38050\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38050\n  end_ms: 40490\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40490\n  end_ms: 42920\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42920\n  end_ms: 46860\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46860\n  end_ms: 48770\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48770\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53460\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53460\n  end_ms: 56200\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56200\n  end_ms: 58970\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58970\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61600\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61600\n  end_ms: 64270\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64270\n  end_ms: 67050\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67050\n  end_ms: 69930\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 75650\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75650\n  end_ms: 78110\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78110\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83310\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83310\n  end_ms: 86560\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86560\n  end_ms: 88680\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88680\n  end_ms: 91290\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91290\n  end_ms: 91770\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91770\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96830\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96830\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 112480\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112480\n  end_ms: 113300\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113300\n  end_ms: 118450\n- text: finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118450\n  end_ms: 121550\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121550\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 131250\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131250\n  end_ms: 132690\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132690\n  end_ms: 133120\n- text: is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133120\n  end_ms: 134920\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134920\n  end_ms: 136130\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136130\n  end_ms: 138180\n- text: individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138180\n  end_ms: 140130\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140130\n  end_ms: 142910\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142910\n  end_ms: 145420\n- text: in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145420\n  end_ms: 148030\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148030\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153570\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153570\n  end_ms: 155850\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155850\n  end_ms: 166890\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166890\n  end_ms: 167230\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167230\n  end_ms: 169470\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169470\n  end_ms: 171860\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171860\n  end_ms: 175650\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175650\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 183040\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183040\n  end_ms: 185500\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185500\n  end_ms: 188360\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188360\n  end_ms: 190970\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190970\n  end_ms: 193410\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193410\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201610\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201610\n  end_ms: 204630\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204630\n  end_ms: 207610\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207610\n  end_ms: 210170\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210170\n  end_ms: 220590\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220590\n  end_ms: 229190\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229190\n  end_ms: 231390\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231390\n  end_ms: 233320\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233320\n  end_ms: 235330\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235330\n  end_ms: 236980\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236980\n  end_ms: 238450\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238450\n  end_ms: 241540\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241540\n  end_ms: 244500\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244500\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":33346036,"name":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Unreleased & Revamped (EP)","duration":282.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nFinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nIs what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nIndividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nIn your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.59] Yeah\n[00:04.03] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.12] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.57] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.69] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.00] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.71] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.02] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.51] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.49] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.06] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.76] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.14] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.11] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.37] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.01] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.42] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.94] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.84] I gets real determined\n[00:48.71] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.48] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.23] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.96] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.45] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.69] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.22] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.06] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.98] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.45] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.66] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.10] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.33] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.50] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.67] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.25] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.72] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.85] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.47] Chorus\n[01:52.41] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.36] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.48] Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.59] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.87] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.20] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.64] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.11] Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.91] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.18] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.10] Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.15] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.96] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.45] In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.05] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.52] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.82] Chorus\n[02:46.83] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.28] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.43] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.80] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.62] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.38] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.07] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.55] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.39] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.93] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.47] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.66] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.63] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.65] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.64] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.10] Chorus\n[03:40.56] Chorus\n[03:49.17] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.31] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.38] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.35] All the alleyways\n[03:56.91] For all our decesed\n[03:58.43] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.51] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.57] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands In The Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Unreleased & Revamped (EP)\n  duration_ms: 282000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3590\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3590\n  end_ms: 4030\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4030\n  end_ms: 5120\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5120\n  end_ms: 6570\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6570\n  end_ms: 9690\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 11000\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11000\n  end_ms: 11710\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11710\n  end_ms: 13020\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13020\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18510\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18510\n  end_ms: 21490\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 24060\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24060\n  end_ms: 26760\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26760\n  end_ms: 29140\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29140\n  end_ms: 32110\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32110\n  end_ms: 35370\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35370\n  end_ms: 38010\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38010\n  end_ms: 40420\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40420\n  end_ms: 42940\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42940\n  end_ms: 46840\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46840\n  end_ms: 48710\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48710\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53480\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53480\n  end_ms: 56230\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56230\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 59450\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59450\n  end_ms: 61690\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61690\n  end_ms: 64220\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64220\n  end_ms: 67060\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67060\n  end_ms: 69980\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69980\n  end_ms: 72450\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72450\n  end_ms: 75660\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75660\n  end_ms: 78100\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78100\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 86500\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86500\n  end_ms: 88670\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88670\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 91720\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91720\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103470\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103470\n  end_ms: 112410\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112410\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 118480\n- text: Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118480\n  end_ms: 121590\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121590\n  end_ms: 127870\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127870\n  end_ms: 131200\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131200\n  end_ms: 132640\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132640\n  end_ms: 133110\n- text: Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133110\n  end_ms: 134910\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134910\n  end_ms: 136180\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136180\n  end_ms: 138100\n- text: Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138100\n  end_ms: 140150\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140150\n  end_ms: 142960\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142960\n  end_ms: 145450\n- text: In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145450\n  end_ms: 148050\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148050\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153520\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153520\n  end_ms: 155820\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155820\n  end_ms: 166830\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166830\n  end_ms: 167280\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167280\n  end_ms: 169430\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169430\n  end_ms: 171800\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171800\n  end_ms: 175620\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175620\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180380\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180380\n  end_ms: 183070\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183070\n  end_ms: 185550\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185550\n  end_ms: 188390\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188390\n  end_ms: 190930\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190930\n  end_ms: 193470\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193470\n  end_ms: 195660\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195660\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201630\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201630\n  end_ms: 204650\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204650\n  end_ms: 207640\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207640\n  end_ms: 210100\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210100\n  end_ms: 220560\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220560\n  end_ms: 229170\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229170\n  end_ms: 231310\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231310\n  end_ms: 233380\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233380\n  end_ms: 235350\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235350\n  end_ms: 236910\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236910\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 241510\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241510\n  end_ms: 244570\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244570\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":36060565,"name":"Throw Your Hands in the Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands in the Air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Unreleased & Revamped","duration":252.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nFinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nIs what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nIndividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nIn your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.59] Yeah\n[00:04.03] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.12] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.57] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.69] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.00] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.71] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.02] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.51] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.49] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.06] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.76] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.14] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.11] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.37] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.01] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.42] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.94] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.84] I gets real determined\n[00:48.71] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.48] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.23] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.96] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.45] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.69] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.22] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.06] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.98] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.45] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.66] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.10] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.33] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.50] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.67] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.25] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.72] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.85] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.47] Chorus\n[01:52.41] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.36] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.48] Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.59] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.87] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.20] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.64] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.11] Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.91] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.18] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.10] Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.15] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.96] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.45] In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.05] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.52] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.82] Chorus\n[02:46.83] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.28] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.43] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.80] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.62] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.38] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.07] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.55] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.39] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.93] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.47] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.66] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.63] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.65] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.64] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.10] Chorus\n[03:40.56] Chorus\n[03:49.17] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.31] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.38] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.35] All the alleyways\n[03:56.91] For all our decesed\n[03:58.43] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.51] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.57] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands in the Air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Unreleased & Revamped\n  duration_ms: 252000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3590\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3590\n  end_ms: 4030\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4030\n  end_ms: 5120\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5120\n  end_ms: 6570\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6570\n  end_ms: 9690\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 11000\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11000\n  end_ms: 11710\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11710\n  end_ms: 13020\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13020\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18510\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18510\n  end_ms: 21490\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 24060\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24060\n  end_ms: 26760\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26760\n  end_ms: 29140\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29140\n  end_ms: 32110\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32110\n  end_ms: 35370\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35370\n  end_ms: 38010\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38010\n  end_ms: 40420\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40420\n  end_ms: 42940\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42940\n  end_ms: 46840\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46840\n  end_ms: 48710\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48710\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53480\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53480\n  end_ms: 56230\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56230\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 59450\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59450\n  end_ms: 61690\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61690\n  end_ms: 64220\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64220\n  end_ms: 67060\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67060\n  end_ms: 69980\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69980\n  end_ms: 72450\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72450\n  end_ms: 75660\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75660\n  end_ms: 78100\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78100\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 86500\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86500\n  end_ms: 88670\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88670\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 91720\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91720\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103470\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103470\n  end_ms: 112410\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112410\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 118480\n- text: Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118480\n  end_ms: 121590\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121590\n  end_ms: 127870\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127870\n  end_ms: 131200\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131200\n  end_ms: 132640\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132640\n  end_ms: 133110\n- text: Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133110\n  end_ms: 134910\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134910\n  end_ms: 136180\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136180\n  end_ms: 138100\n- text: Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138100\n  end_ms: 140150\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140150\n  end_ms: 142960\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142960\n  end_ms: 145450\n- text: In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145450\n  end_ms: 148050\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148050\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153520\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153520\n  end_ms: 155820\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155820\n  end_ms: 166830\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166830\n  end_ms: 167280\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167280\n  end_ms: 169430\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169430\n  end_ms: 171800\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171800\n  end_ms: 175620\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175620\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180380\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180380\n  end_ms: 183070\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183070\n  end_ms: 185550\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185550\n  end_ms: 188390\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188390\n  end_ms: 190930\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190930\n  end_ms: 193470\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193470\n  end_ms: 195660\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195660\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201630\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201630\n  end_ms: 204650\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204650\n  end_ms: 207640\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207640\n  end_ms: 210100\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210100\n  end_ms: 220560\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220560\n  end_ms: 229170\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229170\n  end_ms: 231310\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231310\n  end_ms: 233380\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233380\n  end_ms: 235350\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235350\n  end_ms: 236910\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236910\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 241510\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241510\n  end_ms: 244570\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244570\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":26361591,"name":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","trackName":"Throw Your Hands In The Air","artistName":"CYPRESS HILL","albumName":"Unrealised & Revamped","duration":247.865813,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nFinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nIs what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nIndividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nIn your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.59] Yeah\n[00:04.03] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.12] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.57] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.69] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.00] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.71] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.02] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.51] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.49] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.06] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.76] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.14] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.11] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.37] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.01] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.42] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.94] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.84] I gets real determined\n[00:48.71] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.48] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.23] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.96] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.45] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.69] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.22] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.06] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.98] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.45] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.66] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.10] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.33] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.50] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.67] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.25] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.72] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.85] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.47] Chorus\n[01:52.41] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.36] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.48] Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.59] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.87] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.20] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.64] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.11] Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.91] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.18] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.10] Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.15] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.96] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.45] In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.05] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.52] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.82] Chorus\n[02:46.83] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.28] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.43] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.80] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.62] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.38] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.07] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.55] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.39] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.93] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.47] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.66] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.63] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.65] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.64] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.10] Chorus\n[03:40.56] Chorus\n[03:49.17] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.31] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.38] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.35] All the alleyways\n[03:56.91] For all our decesed\n[03:58.43] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.51] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.57] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands In The Air\n  artist: CYPRESS HILL\n  album: Unrealised & Revamped\n  duration_ms: 247866\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3590\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3590\n  end_ms: 4030\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4030\n  end_ms: 5120\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5120\n  end_ms: 6570\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6570\n  end_ms: 9690\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9690\n  end_ms: 11000\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11000\n  end_ms: 11710\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11710\n  end_ms: 13020\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13020\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18510\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18510\n  end_ms: 21490\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21490\n  end_ms: 24060\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24060\n  end_ms: 26760\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26760\n  end_ms: 29140\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29140\n  end_ms: 32110\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32110\n  end_ms: 35370\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35370\n  end_ms: 38010\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38010\n  end_ms: 40420\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40420\n  end_ms: 42940\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42940\n  end_ms: 46840\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46840\n  end_ms: 48710\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48710\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53480\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53480\n  end_ms: 56230\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56230\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 59450\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59450\n  end_ms: 61690\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61690\n  end_ms: 64220\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64220\n  end_ms: 67060\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67060\n  end_ms: 69980\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69980\n  end_ms: 72450\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72450\n  end_ms: 75660\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75660\n  end_ms: 78100\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78100\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 86500\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86500\n  end_ms: 88670\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88670\n  end_ms: 91250\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91250\n  end_ms: 91720\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91720\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103470\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103470\n  end_ms: 112410\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112410\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 118480\n- text: Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118480\n  end_ms: 121590\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121590\n  end_ms: 127870\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127870\n  end_ms: 131200\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131200\n  end_ms: 132640\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132640\n  end_ms: 133110\n- text: Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133110\n  end_ms: 134910\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134910\n  end_ms: 136180\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136180\n  end_ms: 138100\n- text: Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138100\n  end_ms: 140150\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140150\n  end_ms: 142960\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142960\n  end_ms: 145450\n- text: In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145450\n  end_ms: 148050\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148050\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153520\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153520\n  end_ms: 155820\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155820\n  end_ms: 166830\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166830\n  end_ms: 167280\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167280\n  end_ms: 169430\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169430\n  end_ms: 171800\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171800\n  end_ms: 175620\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175620\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180380\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180380\n  end_ms: 183070\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183070\n  end_ms: 185550\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185550\n  end_ms: 188390\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188390\n  end_ms: 190930\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190930\n  end_ms: 193470\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193470\n  end_ms: 195660\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195660\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201630\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201630\n  end_ms: 204650\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204650\n  end_ms: 207640\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207640\n  end_ms: 210100\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210100\n  end_ms: 220560\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220560\n  end_ms: 229170\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229170\n  end_ms: 231310\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231310\n  end_ms: 233380\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233380\n  end_ms: 235350\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235350\n  end_ms: 236910\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236910\n  end_ms: 238430\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238430\n  end_ms: 241510\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241510\n  end_ms: 244570\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244570\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  Finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  Is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  Individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  In your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":18044843,"name":"02 - Throw your hands in the air","trackName":"02 - Throw your hands in the air","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Unreleased & revamped (EP)","duration":246.921875,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nfinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nis what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nindividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nin your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 02 - Throw your hands in the air\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Unreleased & revamped (EP)\n  duration_ms: 246922\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":13051981,"name":"Throw Your Hands in the Air (R","trackName":"Throw Your Hands in the Air (R","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Illusions CDS","duration":250.253056,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nfinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nis what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nindividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nin your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.50] Yeah\n[00:04.09] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.16] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.56] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.64] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.01] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.77] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.01] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.55] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.44] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.01] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.75] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.18] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.13] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.36] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.05] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.49] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.92] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.86] I gets real determined\n[00:48.77] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.46] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.20] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.97] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.43] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.60] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.27] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.05] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.93] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.40] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.65] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.11] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.31] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.56] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.68] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.29] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.77] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.83] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.41] Chorus\n[01:52.48] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.30] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.45] finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.55] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.85] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.25] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.69] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.12] is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.92] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.13] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.18] individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.13] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.91] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.42] in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.03] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.57] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.85] Chorus\n[02:46.89] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.23] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.47] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.86] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.65] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.35] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.04] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.50] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.36] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.97] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.41] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.68] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.61] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.63] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.61] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.17] Chorus\n[03:40.59] Chorus\n[03:49.19] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.39] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.32] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.33] All the alleyways\n[03:56.98] For all our decesed\n[03:58.45] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.54] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.50] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands in the Air (R\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Illusions CDS\n  duration_ms: 250253\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3500\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3500\n  end_ms: 4090\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4090\n  end_ms: 5160\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5160\n  end_ms: 6560\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6560\n  end_ms: 9640\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9640\n  end_ms: 11010\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11010\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 13010\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13010\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18550\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18550\n  end_ms: 21440\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21440\n  end_ms: 24010\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24010\n  end_ms: 26750\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26750\n  end_ms: 29180\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29180\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35360\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35360\n  end_ms: 38050\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38050\n  end_ms: 40490\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40490\n  end_ms: 42920\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42920\n  end_ms: 46860\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46860\n  end_ms: 48770\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48770\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53460\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53460\n  end_ms: 56200\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56200\n  end_ms: 58970\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58970\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61600\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61600\n  end_ms: 64270\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64270\n  end_ms: 67050\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67050\n  end_ms: 69930\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 75650\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75650\n  end_ms: 78110\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78110\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83310\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83310\n  end_ms: 86560\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86560\n  end_ms: 88680\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88680\n  end_ms: 91290\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91290\n  end_ms: 91770\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91770\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96830\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96830\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 112480\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112480\n  end_ms: 113300\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113300\n  end_ms: 118450\n- text: finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118450\n  end_ms: 121550\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121550\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 131250\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131250\n  end_ms: 132690\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132690\n  end_ms: 133120\n- text: is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133120\n  end_ms: 134920\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134920\n  end_ms: 136130\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136130\n  end_ms: 138180\n- text: individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138180\n  end_ms: 140130\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140130\n  end_ms: 142910\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142910\n  end_ms: 145420\n- text: in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145420\n  end_ms: 148030\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148030\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153570\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153570\n  end_ms: 155850\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155850\n  end_ms: 166890\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166890\n  end_ms: 167230\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167230\n  end_ms: 169470\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169470\n  end_ms: 171860\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171860\n  end_ms: 175650\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175650\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 183040\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183040\n  end_ms: 185500\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185500\n  end_ms: 188360\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188360\n  end_ms: 190970\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190970\n  end_ms: 193410\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193410\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201610\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201610\n  end_ms: 204630\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204630\n  end_ms: 207610\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207610\n  end_ms: 210170\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210170\n  end_ms: 220590\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220590\n  end_ms: 229190\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229190\n  end_ms: 231390\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231390\n  end_ms: 233320\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233320\n  end_ms: 235330\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235330\n  end_ms: 236980\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236980\n  end_ms: 238450\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238450\n  end_ms: 241540\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241540\n  end_ms: 244500\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244500\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":13050262,"name":"Throw Your Hands in the Air (I","trackName":"Throw Your Hands in the Air (I","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Illusions CDS","duration":249.0775552,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nfinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nis what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nindividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nin your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.50] Yeah\n[00:04.09] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.16] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.56] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.64] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.01] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.77] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.01] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.55] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.44] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.01] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.75] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.18] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.13] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.36] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.05] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.49] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.92] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.86] I gets real determined\n[00:48.77] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.46] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.20] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.97] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.43] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.60] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.27] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.05] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.93] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.40] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.65] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.11] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.31] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.56] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.68] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.29] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.77] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.83] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.41] Chorus\n[01:52.48] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.30] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.45] finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.55] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.85] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.25] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.69] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.12] is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.92] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.13] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.18] individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.13] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.91] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.42] in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.03] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.57] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.85] Chorus\n[02:46.89] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.23] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.47] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.86] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.65] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.35] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.04] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.50] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.36] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.97] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.41] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.68] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.61] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.63] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.61] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.17] Chorus\n[03:40.59] Chorus\n[03:49.19] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.39] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.32] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.33] All the alleyways\n[03:56.98] For all our decesed\n[03:58.45] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.54] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.50] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw Your Hands in the Air (I\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Illusions CDS\n  duration_ms: 249078\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3500\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3500\n  end_ms: 4090\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4090\n  end_ms: 5160\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5160\n  end_ms: 6560\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6560\n  end_ms: 9640\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9640\n  end_ms: 11010\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11010\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 13010\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13010\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18550\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18550\n  end_ms: 21440\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21440\n  end_ms: 24010\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24010\n  end_ms: 26750\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26750\n  end_ms: 29180\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29180\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35360\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35360\n  end_ms: 38050\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38050\n  end_ms: 40490\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40490\n  end_ms: 42920\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42920\n  end_ms: 46860\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46860\n  end_ms: 48770\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48770\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53460\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53460\n  end_ms: 56200\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56200\n  end_ms: 58970\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58970\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61600\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61600\n  end_ms: 64270\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64270\n  end_ms: 67050\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67050\n  end_ms: 69930\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 75650\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75650\n  end_ms: 78110\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78110\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83310\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83310\n  end_ms: 86560\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86560\n  end_ms: 88680\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88680\n  end_ms: 91290\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91290\n  end_ms: 91770\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91770\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96830\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96830\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 112480\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112480\n  end_ms: 113300\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113300\n  end_ms: 118450\n- text: finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118450\n  end_ms: 121550\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121550\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 131250\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131250\n  end_ms: 132690\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132690\n  end_ms: 133120\n- text: is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133120\n  end_ms: 134920\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134920\n  end_ms: 136130\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136130\n  end_ms: 138180\n- text: individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138180\n  end_ms: 140130\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140130\n  end_ms: 142910\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142910\n  end_ms: 145420\n- text: in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145420\n  end_ms: 148030\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148030\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153570\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153570\n  end_ms: 155850\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155850\n  end_ms: 166890\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166890\n  end_ms: 167230\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167230\n  end_ms: 169470\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169470\n  end_ms: 171860\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171860\n  end_ms: 175650\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175650\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 183040\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183040\n  end_ms: 185500\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185500\n  end_ms: 188360\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188360\n  end_ms: 190970\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190970\n  end_ms: 193410\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193410\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201610\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201610\n  end_ms: 204630\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204630\n  end_ms: 207610\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207610\n  end_ms: 210170\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210170\n  end_ms: 220590\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220590\n  end_ms: 229190\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229190\n  end_ms: 231390\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231390\n  end_ms: 233320\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233320\n  end_ms: 235330\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235330\n  end_ms: 236980\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236980\n  end_ms: 238450\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238450\n  end_ms: 241540\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241540\n  end_ms: 244500\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244500\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"},{"id":28933330,"name":"Throw your hands in the air (i","trackName":"Throw your hands in the air (i","artistName":"Cypress Hill","albumName":"Illusions","duration":249.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Intro: Sen Dog\n\nYeah\nBust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\nCypress Hill joint.\nYo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n...so get it on kid!\n\nVerse One: Erick Sermon\n\nFresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\nQuicker done than O.J., hey\nI freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\nStress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\nLet me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\nAnd unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\nHuh, I go on with my bad self\nI'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\nBelieve me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\nI'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\nNever walk through the crowd sluggish\nI'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\nThe Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\nI gets real determined\nAnd one for the trouble, and two for the bass\nI take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\nAnd if you don't know, y'all better recognize\nI'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\nVerse Two: B-Real\n\nAhh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\nNiggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\nFools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\nWith chips and clips and tons of blue steel\nSo who wants to be the first nigga to die?\nThen try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\nYou get thrown sent home in a coffin\nPunk stuff don't make it back, very often\nI got Erick to take care of the Sermon\nAshes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\nBustin open the doors to the temple\nTakin you to the dark side of your mental\n\nChorus: B-Real\n\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\nKickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\nThrow your hands in the air\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Three: Redman\n\nI rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\nfinger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\nThese off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\nSo I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\nTurn up my level adjust my voice pitch\nHoist this diagnosis, comatosis\nis what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\nRaw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\nindividual, to put criminal in diapers\nWith my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\nYou swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\nin your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\nWith my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\nWord up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\nYou're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\nChorus\n\nVerse Four: MC Eiht\n\nSteppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\nThe original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\nDon't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\nBoo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\nCan't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\nHeard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\nKeep your hands on your hood, you get got\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\nYou wish you could hang, like I hang\nDwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\nG, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\nHit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\nAin't no poppin, no stoppin\nTick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\nThrow your hands in the air, don't bite this\nI squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\nChorus\n\nChorus\n\nOutro: Sen Dog\n\nAight, for everybody\nAll our peeps out on the corners\nAll the alleyways\nFor all our decesed\nIncarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\nNineteen ninety-five\nSoul Assassins in your mind","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.52] Intro: Sen Dog\n[00:03.50] Yeah\n[00:04.09] Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n[00:05.16] Cypress Hill joint.\n[00:06.56] Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n[00:09.64] ...so get it on kid!\n[00:11.01] Verse One: Erick Sermon\n[00:11.77] Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n[00:13.01] Quicker done than O.J., hey\n[00:16.02] I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n[00:18.55] Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n[00:21.44] Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n[00:24.01] And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n[00:26.75] Huh, I go on with my bad self\n[00:29.18] I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n[00:32.13] Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n[00:35.36] I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n[00:38.05] Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n[00:40.49] I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n[00:42.92] The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n[00:46.86] I gets real determined\n[00:48.77] And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n[00:50.85] I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n[00:53.46] And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n[00:56.20] I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n[00:58.97] Verse Two: B-Real\n[00:59.43] Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n[01:01.60] Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n[01:04.27] Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n[01:07.05] With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n[01:09.93] So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n[01:12.40] Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n[01:15.65] You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n[01:18.11] Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n[01:20.57] I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n[01:23.31] Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n[01:26.56] Bustin open the doors to the temple\n[01:28.68] Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n[01:31.29] Chorus: B-Real\n[01:31.77] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:34.40] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:36.83] Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n[01:39.91] Throw your hands in the air\n[01:43.41] Chorus\n[01:52.48] Verse Three: Redman\n[01:53.30] I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n[01:58.45] finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n[02:01.55] These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n[02:07.85] So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n[02:11.25] Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n[02:12.69] Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n[02:13.12] is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n[02:14.92] Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n[02:16.13] *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n[02:18.18] individual, to put criminal in diapers\n[02:20.13] With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n[02:22.91] You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n[02:25.42] in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n[02:28.03] With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n[02:30.68] Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n[02:33.57] You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n[02:35.85] Chorus\n[02:46.89] Verse Four: MC Eiht\n[02:47.23] Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n[02:49.47] The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n[02:51.86] Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n[02:55.65] Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n[02:57.83] Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n[03:00.35] Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n[03:03.04] Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n[03:05.50] The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n[03:08.36] You wish you could hang, like I hang\n[03:10.97] Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n[03:13.41] G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n[03:15.68] Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n[03:19.35] Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n[03:21.61] Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n[03:24.63] Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n[03:27.61] I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n[03:30.17] Chorus\n[03:40.59] Chorus\n[03:49.19] Outro: Sen Dog\n[03:51.39] Aight, for everybody\n[03:53.32] All our peeps out on the corners\n[03:55.33] All the alleyways\n[03:56.98] For all our decesed\n[03:58.45] Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n[04:01.54] Nineteen ninety-five\n[04:04.50] Soul Assassins in your mind\n[04:08.09] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Throw your hands in the air (i\n  artist: Cypress Hill\n  album: Illusions\n  duration_ms: 249000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Intro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 1520\n  end_ms: 3500\n- text: Yeah\n  start_ms: 3500\n  end_ms: 4090\n- text: Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  start_ms: 4090\n  end_ms: 5160\n- text: Cypress Hill joint.\n  start_ms: 5160\n  end_ms: 6560\n- text: Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  start_ms: 6560\n  end_ms: 9640\n- text: '...so get it on kid!'\n  start_ms: 9640\n  end_ms: 11010\n- text: 'Verse One: Erick Sermon'\n  start_ms: 11010\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 13010\n- text: Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  start_ms: 13010\n  end_ms: 16020\n- text: I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  start_ms: 16020\n  end_ms: 18550\n- text: Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  start_ms: 18550\n  end_ms: 21440\n- text: Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  start_ms: 21440\n  end_ms: 24010\n- text: And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  start_ms: 24010\n  end_ms: 26750\n- text: Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  start_ms: 26750\n  end_ms: 29180\n- text: I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  start_ms: 29180\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35360\n- text: I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  start_ms: 35360\n  end_ms: 38050\n- text: Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  start_ms: 38050\n  end_ms: 40490\n- text: I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  start_ms: 40490\n  end_ms: 42920\n- text: The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  start_ms: 42920\n  end_ms: 46860\n- text: I gets real determined\n  start_ms: 46860\n  end_ms: 48770\n- text: And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  start_ms: 48770\n  end_ms: 50850\n- text: I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  start_ms: 50850\n  end_ms: 53460\n- text: And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  start_ms: 53460\n  end_ms: 56200\n- text: I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n  start_ms: 56200\n  end_ms: 58970\n- text: 'Verse Two: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 58970\n  end_ms: 59430\n- text: Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  start_ms: 59430\n  end_ms: 61600\n- text: Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  start_ms: 61600\n  end_ms: 64270\n- text: Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  start_ms: 64270\n  end_ms: 67050\n- text: With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  start_ms: 67050\n  end_ms: 69930\n- text: So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 75650\n- text: You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  start_ms: 75650\n  end_ms: 78110\n- text: Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  start_ms: 78110\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 83310\n- text: Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  start_ms: 83310\n  end_ms: 86560\n- text: Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  start_ms: 86560\n  end_ms: 88680\n- text: Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n  start_ms: 88680\n  end_ms: 91290\n- text: 'Chorus: B-Real'\n  start_ms: 91290\n  end_ms: 91770\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 91770\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96830\n- text: Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  start_ms: 96830\n  end_ms: 99910\n- text: Throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 99910\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 112480\n- text: 'Verse Three: Redman'\n  start_ms: 112480\n  end_ms: 113300\n- text: I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  start_ms: 113300\n  end_ms: 118450\n- text: finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  start_ms: 118450\n  end_ms: 121550\n- text: These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  start_ms: 121550\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 131250\n- text: Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  start_ms: 131250\n  end_ms: 132690\n- text: Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  start_ms: 132690\n  end_ms: 133120\n- text: is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  start_ms: 133120\n  end_ms: 134920\n- text: Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  start_ms: 134920\n  end_ms: 136130\n- text: '*Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest'\n  start_ms: 136130\n  end_ms: 138180\n- text: individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  start_ms: 138180\n  end_ms: 140130\n- text: With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  start_ms: 140130\n  end_ms: 142910\n- text: You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  start_ms: 142910\n  end_ms: 145420\n- text: in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  start_ms: 145420\n  end_ms: 148030\n- text: With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  start_ms: 148030\n  end_ms: 150680\n- text: Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  start_ms: 150680\n  end_ms: 153570\n- text: You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n  start_ms: 153570\n  end_ms: 155850\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 155850\n  end_ms: 166890\n- text: 'Verse Four: MC Eiht'\n  start_ms: 166890\n  end_ms: 167230\n- text: Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  start_ms: 167230\n  end_ms: 169470\n- text: The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  start_ms: 169470\n  end_ms: 171860\n- text: Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  start_ms: 171860\n  end_ms: 175650\n- text: Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  start_ms: 175650\n  end_ms: 177830\n- text: Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  start_ms: 177830\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 183040\n- text: Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  start_ms: 183040\n  end_ms: 185500\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 185500\n  end_ms: 188360\n- text: You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  start_ms: 188360\n  end_ms: 190970\n- text: Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  start_ms: 190970\n  end_ms: 193410\n- text: G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  start_ms: 193410\n  end_ms: 195680\n- text: Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  start_ms: 195680\n  end_ms: 199350\n- text: Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  start_ms: 199350\n  end_ms: 201610\n- text: Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  start_ms: 201610\n  end_ms: 204630\n- text: Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  start_ms: 204630\n  end_ms: 207610\n- text: I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n  start_ms: 207610\n  end_ms: 210170\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 210170\n  end_ms: 220590\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 220590\n  end_ms: 229190\n- text: 'Outro: Sen Dog'\n  start_ms: 229190\n  end_ms: 231390\n- text: Aight, for everybody\n  start_ms: 231390\n  end_ms: 233320\n- text: All our peeps out on the corners\n  start_ms: 233320\n  end_ms: 235330\n- text: All the alleyways\n  start_ms: 235330\n  end_ms: 236980\n- text: For all our decesed\n  start_ms: 236980\n  end_ms: 238450\n- text: Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  start_ms: 238450\n  end_ms: 241540\n- text: Nineteen ninety-five\n  start_ms: 241540\n  end_ms: 244500\n- text: Soul Assassins in your mind\n  start_ms: 244500\n  end_ms: 248090\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248090\nplain: |-\n  Intro: Sen Dog\n\n  Yeah\n  Bust how we gonna bounce off this ninety-five Soul Assassins\n  Cypress Hill joint.\n  Yo we want everybody out there to throw their hands up...\n  ...so get it on kid!\n\n  Verse One: Erick Sermon\n\n  Fresh is the word, when I display my rappin forte\n  Quicker done than O.J., hey\n  I freaks my shit, E the lyrical master\n  Stress me out, no doubt, I might have to blast ya\n  Let me ask ya, can I gets busy one time?\n  And unwind and chill, with Cypress Hill\n  Huh, I go on with my bad self\n  I'm the four pound toter, the Phil blunt smoker\n  Believe me not, I'm wicked like three sixes\n  I'm doper than the Pete Rock remixes\n  Never walk through the crowd sluggish\n  I'm hardcore to the Bone, I'm Thuggish Ruggish\n  The Green-Eyed, Bandit, I be ERRRICK SERRRMON\n  I gets real determined\n  And one for the trouble, and two for the bass\n  I take it to your face with this here lyrical mace\n  And if you don't know, y'all better recognize\n  I'm coming through with speed, with pounds of weed\n\n  Verse Two: B-Real\n\n  Ahh shit, another one of those gangsta hits\n  Niggaz wanna get busy with the ultimate\n  Fools get real, yo I'm representin the Hill\n  With chips and clips and tons of blue steel\n  So who wants to be the first nigga to die?\n  Then try and test this, buddha blessed Gemini\n  You get thrown sent home in a coffin\n  Punk stuff don't make it back, very often\n  I got Erick to take care of the Sermon\n  Ashes to ashes, dust, bodies burnin\n  Bustin open the doors to the temple\n  Takin you to the dark side of your mental\n\n  Chorus: B-Real\n\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n  Kickin it to the brothers on the corners, in the alleys\n  Throw your hands in the air\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Three: Redman\n\n  I rhyme tricky, the sticky smoka with the mind itchy\n  finger up on the pen, be like \"He the bomb, dicky!\"\n  These off-keys MC's hawk me, they won't get off me\n  So I kill em softly and use em as walkie talkies *bzzzzt*\n  Turn up my level adjust my voice pitch\n  Hoist this diagnosis, comatosis\n  is what I leave your crew with, boom bip or some two and two shit\n  Raw silk, cuz YOU DO IT TO MY MUSIC\n  *Funk Doctor Spock* lock the hypest\n  individual, to put criminal in diapers\n  With my nigga E and Cypress, what I write bitch\n  You swore, it was a nuclear war, crisis\n  in your back yard, word to God, Def Squad!\n  With my nigga Keith in the place takin charge\n  Word up you'll get hurt up like the jury callin murder\n  You're deaf cuz I freak shit you neva heard of\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Verse Four: MC Eiht\n\n  Steppin to the park in the Hill you can't hang\n  The original baby gangsta on this Compton thang\n  Don't slip, the late night hype, is when I dip\n  Boo-yaa is the sound from a lonely clip\n  Can't feel me, if I was crack you'd try to steal me\n  Heard you, and your little crew, wanna peel me\n  Keep your hands on your hood, you get got\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit, Cypress Hill, and the Funk Doctor Spock\n  You wish you could hang, like I hang\n  Dwells in the C-P-T, the hood thing\n  G, the trigga finger, I'ma get you\n  Hit you, the Tech 9, I'ma split you\n  Ain't no poppin, no stoppin\n  Tick to the tock, tick tock I hit your block\n  Throw your hands in the air, don't bite this\n  I squeeze, nigga please, the E down with Cypress\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Chorus\n\n  Outro: Sen Dog\n\n  Aight, for everybody\n  All our peeps out on the corners\n  All the alleyways\n  For all our decesed\n  Incarcerated peeps, brothers on the streets\n  Nineteen ninety-five\n  Soul Assassins in your mind\n"}]