[{"id":2577107,"name":"Foundation","trackName":"Foundation","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"D.I.T.C.","duration":236.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo .\n\nChorus: [diamond d]\nWe love the foundation, time to lock shit\nLadies look no more we got this\nD.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\nAnd while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\nAin't no stoppin' this like,?\nSee it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\nOn the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\nHating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n[Dimaond d]\nI like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\nExpensive whips, first-class trips\nSeven days cruises, honey don't trip\nExcel class if ya heard room fit\nPlatinum cars, givin' no credit to me\nTiffany labs,?\nH-class minerals with no floors in it\nBe one two, with the windows all tinnit\nAnd i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\nEverything is paid for, mami not rent it\nTwo albums deep, it's all documented\nY'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\nLook, g-o-l-d in a minute\n'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\nIt's di-a-mond d on ya set\nThrowin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n[ O.c. ]\nI'm doin' time in the rap game\nSorta like a beered up north all one and the same\nMy slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\nLike substers abusin' lies for cocaine\nI get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\nTwo pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\nIt's no joking when it comes to this\nOn occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\nWith a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\nTrade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\nFor the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\nFor lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\nIncorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\nFor this i got love, not lust\nIf i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n[ Chorus ]\n\n[A.g.]\nMy flow, be sicker than yours\nHoes, bounce gimme some mo'\nWanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\nWanna track from me? then gimme some dough\nI sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\nThat's my ice that roll and light the dro'\nLove is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\nDiamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\nI might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\nClaim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\nPop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\nGet dirty like?, it could get ugly\nI rock mines and cop top of the line cars\nThen charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\nSlight the tight men, cop about nine jars\nTo trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n[Lord finesse]\nNiggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\nName it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\nWe straight, better see yaselfves\nWe seein' more chips than the?\nOn a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\nIced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\nRolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\nThrowing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\nSteady balling, why you stop the thing\nBlind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\nOn some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\nFloors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\nDon't sleep, me and my crew's deep\nWhether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\nSalute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\nFuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n[ Chorus ]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Foundation\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: D.I.T.C.\n duration_ms: 236000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo, yo, yo .\n\n Chorus: [diamond d]\n We love the foundation, time to lock shit\n Ladies look no more we got this\n D.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\n And while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\n Ain't no stoppin' this like,?\n See it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\n On the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\n Hating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n [Dimaond d]\n I like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\n Expensive whips, first-class trips\n Seven days cruises, honey don't trip\n Excel class if ya heard room fit\n Platinum cars, givin' no credit to me\n Tiffany labs,?\n H-class minerals with no floors in it\n Be one two, with the windows all tinnit\n And i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\n Everything is paid for, mami not rent it\n Two albums deep, it's all documented\n Y'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\n Look, g-o-l-d in a minute\n 'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\n It's di-a-mond d on ya set\n Throwin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n [ O.c. ]\n I'm doin' time in the rap game\n Sorta like a beered up north all one and the same\n My slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\n Like substers abusin' lies for cocaine\n I get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\n Two pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\n It's no joking when it comes to this\n On occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\n With a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\n Trade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\n For the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\n For lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\n Incorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\n For this i got love, not lust\n If i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n [ Chorus ]\n\n [A.g.]\n My flow, be sicker than yours\n Hoes, bounce gimme some mo'\n Wanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\n Wanna track from me? then gimme some dough\n I sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\n That's my ice that roll and light the dro'\n Love is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\n Diamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\n I might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\n Claim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\n Pop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\n Get dirty like?, it could get ugly\n I rock mines and cop top of the line cars\n Then charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\n Slight the tight men, cop about nine jars\n To trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n [Lord finesse]\n Niggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\n Name it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\n We straight, better see yaselfves\n We seein' more chips than the?\n On a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\n Iced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\n Rolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\n Throwing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\n Steady balling, why you stop the thing\n Blind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\n On some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\n Floors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\n Don't sleep, me and my crew's deep\n Whether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\n Salute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\n Fuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n [ Chorus ]\n"},{"id":28814460,"name":"Foundation","trackName":"Foundation","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"D.I.T.C.","duration":239.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo .\n\nChorus: [diamond d]\nWe love the foundation, time to lock shit\nLadies look no more we got this\nD.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\nAnd while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\nAin't no stoppin' this like,?\nSee it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\nOn the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\nHating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n[Dimaond d]\nI like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\nExpensive whips, first-class trips\nSeven days cruises, honey don't trip\nExcel class if ya heard room fit\nPlatinum cars, givin' no credit to me\nTiffany labs,?\nH-class minerals with no floors in it\nBe one two, with the windows all tinnit\nAnd i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\nEverything is paid for, mami not rent it\nTwo albums deep, it's all documented\nY'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\nLook, g-o-l-d in a minute\n'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\nIt's di-a-mond d on ya set\nThrowin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n[ O.c. ]\nI'm doin' time in the rap game\nSorta like a beered up north all one and the same\nMy slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\nLike substers abusin' lies for cocaine\nI get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\nTwo pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\nIt's no joking when it comes to this\nOn occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\nWith a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\nTrade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\nFor the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\nFor lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\nIncorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\nFor this i got love, not lust\nIf i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n[ Chorus ]\n\n[A.g.]\nMy flow, be sicker than yours\nHoes, bounce gimme some mo'\nWanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\nWanna track from me? then gimme some dough\nI sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\nThat's my ice that roll and light the dro'\nLove is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\nDiamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\nI might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\nClaim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\nPop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\nGet dirty like?, it could get ugly\nI rock mines and cop top of the line cars\nThen charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\nSlight the tight men, cop about nine jars\nTo trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n[Lord finesse]\nNiggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\nName it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\nWe straight, better see yaselfves\nWe seein' more chips than the?\nOn a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\nIced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\nRolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\nThrowing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\nSteady balling, why you stop the thing\nBlind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\nOn some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\nFloors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\nDon't sleep, me and my crew's deep\nWhether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\nSalute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\nFuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n[ Chorus ]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Foundation\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: D.I.T.C.\n duration_ms: 239000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo, yo, yo .\n\n Chorus: [diamond d]\n We love the foundation, time to lock shit\n Ladies look no more we got this\n D.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\n And while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\n Ain't no stoppin' this like,?\n See it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\n On the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\n Hating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n [Dimaond d]\n I like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\n Expensive whips, first-class trips\n Seven days cruises, honey don't trip\n Excel class if ya heard room fit\n Platinum cars, givin' no credit to me\n Tiffany labs,?\n H-class minerals with no floors in it\n Be one two, with the windows all tinnit\n And i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\n Everything is paid for, mami not rent it\n Two albums deep, it's all documented\n Y'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\n Look, g-o-l-d in a minute\n 'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\n It's di-a-mond d on ya set\n Throwin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n [ O.c. ]\n I'm doin' time in the rap game\n Sorta like a beered up north all one and the same\n My slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\n Like substers abusin' lies for cocaine\n I get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\n Two pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\n It's no joking when it comes to this\n On occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\n With a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\n Trade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\n For the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\n For lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\n Incorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\n For this i got love, not lust\n If i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n [ Chorus ]\n\n [A.g.]\n My flow, be sicker than yours\n Hoes, bounce gimme some mo'\n Wanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\n Wanna track from me? then gimme some dough\n I sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\n That's my ice that roll and light the dro'\n Love is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\n Diamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\n I might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\n Claim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\n Pop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\n Get dirty like?, it could get ugly\n I rock mines and cop top of the line cars\n Then charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\n Slight the tight men, cop about nine jars\n To trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n [Lord finesse]\n Niggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\n Name it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\n We straight, better see yaselfves\n We seein' more chips than the?\n On a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\n Iced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\n Rolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\n Throwing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\n Steady balling, why you stop the thing\n Blind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\n On some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\n Floors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\n Don't sleep, me and my crew's deep\n Whether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\n Salute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\n Fuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n [ Chorus ]\n"},{"id":12001947,"name":"Foundation","trackName":"Foundation","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"D.I.T.C. [US]","duration":234.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo .\n\nChorus: [diamond d]\nWe love the foundation, time to lock shit\nLadies look no more we got this\nD.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\nAnd while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\nAin't no stoppin' this like,?\nSee it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\nOn the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\nHating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n[dimaond d]\nI like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\nExpensive whips, first-class trips\nSeven days cruises, honey don't trip\nExcel class if ya heard room fit\nPlatinum cars, givin' no credit to me\nTiffany labs,?\nH-class minerals with no floors in it\nBe one two, with the windows all tinnit\nAnd i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\nEverything is paid for, mami not rent it\nTwo albums deep, it's all documented\nY'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\nLook, g-o-l-d in a minute\n'bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\nIt's di-a-mond d on ya set\nThrowin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n[ o.c. ]\nI'm doin' time in the rap game\nSorta like a beered up north all one and the same\nMy slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\nLike substers abusin' lies for cocaine\nI get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\nTwo pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\nIt's no joking when it comes to this\nOn occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\nWith a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\nTrade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\nFor the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\nFor lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\nIncorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\nFor this i got love, not lust\nIf i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n[ chorus ]\n\n[a.g.]\nMy flow, be sicker than yours\nHoes, bounce gimme some mo'\nWanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\nWanna track from me? then gimme some dough\nI sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\nThat's my ice that roll and light the dro'\nLove is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\nDiamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\nI might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\nClaim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\nPop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\nGet dirty like?, it could get ugly\nI rock mines and cop top of the line cars\nThen charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\nSlight the tight men, cop about nine jars\nTo trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n[lord finesse]\nNiggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\nName it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\nWe straight, better see yaselfves\nWe seein' more chips than the?\nOn a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\nIced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\nRolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\nThrowing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\nSteady balling, why you stop the thing\nBlind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\nOn some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\nFloors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\nDon't sleep, me and my crew's deep\nWhether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\nSalute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\nFuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n[ chorus ]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Foundation\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: D.I.T.C. [US]\n duration_ms: 234000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo, yo, yo .\n\n Chorus: [diamond d]\n We love the foundation, time to lock shit\n Ladies look no more we got this\n D.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\n And while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\n Ain't no stoppin' this like,?\n See it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\n On the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\n Hating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n [dimaond d]\n I like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\n Expensive whips, first-class trips\n Seven days cruises, honey don't trip\n Excel class if ya heard room fit\n Platinum cars, givin' no credit to me\n Tiffany labs,?\n H-class minerals with no floors in it\n Be one two, with the windows all tinnit\n And i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\n Everything is paid for, mami not rent it\n Two albums deep, it's all documented\n Y'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\n Look, g-o-l-d in a minute\n 'bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\n It's di-a-mond d on ya set\n Throwin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n [ o.c. ]\n I'm doin' time in the rap game\n Sorta like a beered up north all one and the same\n My slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\n Like substers abusin' lies for cocaine\n I get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\n Two pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\n It's no joking when it comes to this\n On occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\n With a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\n Trade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\n For the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\n For lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\n Incorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\n For this i got love, not lust\n If i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n [ chorus ]\n\n [a.g.]\n My flow, be sicker than yours\n Hoes, bounce gimme some mo'\n Wanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\n Wanna track from me? then gimme some dough\n I sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\n That's my ice that roll and light the dro'\n Love is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\n Diamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\n I might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\n Claim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\n Pop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\n Get dirty like?, it could get ugly\n I rock mines and cop top of the line cars\n Then charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\n Slight the tight men, cop about nine jars\n To trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n [lord finesse]\n Niggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\n Name it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\n We straight, better see yaselfves\n We seein' more chips than the?\n On a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\n Iced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\n Rolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\n Throwing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\n Steady balling, why you stop the thing\n Blind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\n On some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\n Floors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\n Don't sleep, me and my crew's deep\n Whether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\n Salute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\n Fuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n [ chorus ]\n"},{"id":40132080,"name":"Diamond, O.C., A.G., Lord Finesse - Foundation","trackName":"Diamond, O.C., A.G., Lord Finesse - Foundation","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"D.I.T.C.","duration":235.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo .\n\nChorus: [diamond d]\nWe love the foundation, time to lock shit\nLadies look no more we got this\nD.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\nAnd while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\nAin't no stoppin' this like,?\nSee it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\nOn the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\nHating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n[dimaond d]\nI like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\nExpensive whips, first-class trips\nSeven days cruises, honey don't trip\nExcel class if ya heard room fit\nPlatinum cars, givin' no credit to me\nTiffany labs,?\nH-class minerals with no floors in it\nBe one two, with the windows all tinnit\nAnd i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\nEverything is paid for, mami not rent it\nTwo albums deep, it's all documented\nY'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\nLook, g-o-l-d in a minute\n'bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\nIt's di-a-mond d on ya set\nThrowin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n[ o.c. ]\nI'm doin' time in the rap game\nSorta like a beered up north all one and the same\nMy slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\nLike substers abusin' lies for cocaine\nI get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\nTwo pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\nIt's no joking when it comes to this\nOn occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\nWith a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\nTrade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\nFor the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\nFor lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\nIncorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\nFor this i got love, not lust\nIf i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n[ chorus ]\n\n[a.g.]\nMy flow, be sicker than yours\nHoes, bounce gimme some mo'\nWanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\nWanna track from me? then gimme some dough\nI sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\nThat's my ice that roll and light the dro'\nLove is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\nDiamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\nI might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\nClaim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\nPop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\nGet dirty like?, it could get ugly\nI rock mines and cop top of the line cars\nThen charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\nSlight the tight men, cop about nine jars\nTo trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n[lord finesse]\nNiggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\nName it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\nWe straight, better see yaselfves\nWe seein' more chips than the?\nOn a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\nIced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\nRolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\nThrowing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\nSteady balling, why you stop the thing\nBlind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\nOn some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\nFloors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\nDon't sleep, me and my crew's deep\nWhether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\nSalute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\nFuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n[ chorus ]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Diamond, O.C., A.G., Lord Finesse - Foundation\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: D.I.T.C.\n duration_ms: 235040\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo, yo, yo .\n\n Chorus: [diamond d]\n We love the foundation, time to lock shit\n Ladies look no more we got this\n D.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\n And while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\n Ain't no stoppin' this like,?\n See it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\n On the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\n Hating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n [dimaond d]\n I like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\n Expensive whips, first-class trips\n Seven days cruises, honey don't trip\n Excel class if ya heard room fit\n Platinum cars, givin' no credit to me\n Tiffany labs,?\n H-class minerals with no floors in it\n Be one two, with the windows all tinnit\n And i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\n Everything is paid for, mami not rent it\n Two albums deep, it's all documented\n Y'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\n Look, g-o-l-d in a minute\n 'bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\n It's di-a-mond d on ya set\n Throwin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n [ o.c. ]\n I'm doin' time in the rap game\n Sorta like a beered up north all one and the same\n My slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\n Like substers abusin' lies for cocaine\n I get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\n Two pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\n It's no joking when it comes to this\n On occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\n With a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\n Trade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\n For the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\n For lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\n Incorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\n For this i got love, not lust\n If i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n [ chorus ]\n\n [a.g.]\n My flow, be sicker than yours\n Hoes, bounce gimme some mo'\n Wanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\n Wanna track from me? then gimme some dough\n I sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\n That's my ice that roll and light the dro'\n Love is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\n Diamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\n I might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\n Claim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\n Pop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\n Get dirty like?, it could get ugly\n I rock mines and cop top of the line cars\n Then charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\n Slight the tight men, cop about nine jars\n To trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n [lord finesse]\n Niggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\n Name it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\n We straight, better see yaselfves\n We seein' more chips than the?\n On a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\n Iced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\n Rolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\n Throwing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\n Steady balling, why you stop the thing\n Blind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\n On some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\n Floors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\n Don't sleep, me and my crew's deep\n Whether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\n Salute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\n Fuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n [ chorus ]\n"},{"id":30658148,"name":"Foundation","trackName":"Foundation","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"D.I.T.C. (Japan Edition)","duration":235.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo .\n\nChorus: [diamond d]\nWe love the foundation, time to lock shit\nLadies look no more we got this\nD.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\nAnd while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\nAin't no stoppin' this like,?\nSee it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\nOn the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\nHating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n[Dimaond d]\nI like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\nExpensive whips, first-class trips\nSeven days cruises, honey don't trip\nExcel class if ya heard room fit\nPlatinum cars, givin' no credit to me\nTiffany labs,?\nH-class minerals with no floors in it\nBe one two, with the windows all tinnit\nAnd i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\nEverything is paid for, mami not rent it\nTwo albums deep, it's all documented\nY'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\nLook, g-o-l-d in a minute\n'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\nIt's di-a-mond d on ya set\nThrowin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n[ O.c. ]\nI'm doin' time in the rap game\nSorta like a beered up north all one and the same\nMy slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\nLike substers abusin' lies for cocaine\nI get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\nTwo pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\nIt's no joking when it comes to this\nOn occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\nWith a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\nTrade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\nFor the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\nFor lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\nIncorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\nFor this i got love, not lust\nIf i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n[ Chorus ]\n\n[A.g.]\nMy flow, be sicker than yours\nHoes, bounce gimme some mo'\nWanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\nWanna track from me? then gimme some dough\nI sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\nThat's my ice that roll and light the dro'\nLove is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\nDiamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\nI might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\nClaim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\nPop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\nGet dirty like?, it could get ugly\nI rock mines and cop top of the line cars\nThen charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\nSlight the tight men, cop about nine jars\nTo trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n[Lord finesse]\nNiggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\nName it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\nWe straight, better see yaselfves\nWe seein' more chips than the?\nOn a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\nIced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\nRolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\nThrowing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\nSteady balling, why you stop the thing\nBlind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\nOn some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\nFloors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\nDon't sleep, me and my crew's deep\nWhether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\nSalute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\nFuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n[ Chorus ]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Foundation\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: D.I.T.C. (Japan Edition)\n duration_ms: 235000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo, yo, yo .\n\n Chorus: [diamond d]\n We love the foundation, time to lock shit\n Ladies look no more we got this\n D.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\n And while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\n Ain't no stoppin' this like,?\n See it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\n On the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\n Hating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n [Dimaond d]\n I like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\n Expensive whips, first-class trips\n Seven days cruises, honey don't trip\n Excel class if ya heard room fit\n Platinum cars, givin' no credit to me\n Tiffany labs,?\n H-class minerals with no floors in it\n Be one two, with the windows all tinnit\n And i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\n Everything is paid for, mami not rent it\n Two albums deep, it's all documented\n Y'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\n Look, g-o-l-d in a minute\n 'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\n It's di-a-mond d on ya set\n Throwin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n [ O.c. ]\n I'm doin' time in the rap game\n Sorta like a beered up north all one and the same\n My slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\n Like substers abusin' lies for cocaine\n I get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\n Two pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\n It's no joking when it comes to this\n On occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\n With a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\n Trade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\n For the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\n For lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\n Incorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\n For this i got love, not lust\n If i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n [ Chorus ]\n\n [A.g.]\n My flow, be sicker than yours\n Hoes, bounce gimme some mo'\n Wanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\n Wanna track from me? then gimme some dough\n I sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\n That's my ice that roll and light the dro'\n Love is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\n Diamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\n I might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\n Claim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\n Pop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\n Get dirty like?, it could get ugly\n I rock mines and cop top of the line cars\n Then charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\n Slight the tight men, cop about nine jars\n To trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n [Lord finesse]\n Niggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\n Name it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\n We straight, better see yaselfves\n We seein' more chips than the?\n On a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\n Iced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\n Rolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\n Throwing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\n Steady balling, why you stop the thing\n Blind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\n On some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\n Floors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\n Don't sleep, me and my crew's deep\n Whether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\n Salute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\n Fuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n [ Chorus ]\n"},{"id":2577106,"name":"Foundation","trackName":"Foundation","artistName":"D.I.T.C. feat. Ag, Diamond D, Lord Finesse & O.C.","albumName":"D.I.T.C.","duration":236.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo .\n\nChorus: [diamond d]\nWe love the foundation, time to lock shit\nLadies look no more we got this\nD.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\nAnd while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\nAin't no stoppin' this like,?\nSee it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\nOn the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\nHating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n[Dimaond d]\nI like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\nExpensive whips, first-class trips\nSeven days cruises, honey don't trip\nExcel class if ya heard room fit\nPlatinum cars, givin' no credit to me\nTiffany labs,?\nH-class minerals with no floors in it\nBe one two, with the windows all tinnit\nAnd i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\nEverything is paid for, mami not rent it\nTwo albums deep, it's all documented\nY'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\nLook, g-o-l-d in a minute\n'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\nIt's di-a-mond d on ya set\nThrowin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n[ O.c. ]\nI'm doin' time in the rap game\nSorta like a beered up north all one and the same\nMy slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\nLike substers abusin' lies for cocaine\nI get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\nTwo pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\nIt's no joking when it comes to this\nOn occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\nWith a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\nTrade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\nFor the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\nFor lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\nIncorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\nFor this i got love, not lust\nIf i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n[ Chorus ]\n\n[A.g.]\nMy flow, be sicker than yours\nHoes, bounce gimme some mo'\nWanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\nWanna track from me? then gimme some dough\nI sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\nThat's my ice that roll and light the dro'\nLove is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\nDiamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\nI might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\nClaim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\nPop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\nGet dirty like?, it could get ugly\nI rock mines and cop top of the line cars\nThen charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\nSlight the tight men, cop about nine jars\nTo trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n[Lord finesse]\nNiggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\nName it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\nWe straight, better see yaselfves\nWe seein' more chips than the?\nOn a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\nIced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\nRolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\nThrowing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\nSteady balling, why you stop the thing\nBlind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\nOn some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\nFloors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\nDon't sleep, me and my crew's deep\nWhether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\nSalute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\nFuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n[ Chorus ]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Foundation\n artist: D.I.T.C. feat. Ag, Diamond D, Lord Finesse & O.C.\n album: D.I.T.C.\n duration_ms: 236000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo, yo, yo .\n\n Chorus: [diamond d]\n We love the foundation, time to lock shit\n Ladies look no more we got this\n D.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\n And while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\n Ain't no stoppin' this like,?\n See it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\n On the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\n Hating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n [Dimaond d]\n I like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\n Expensive whips, first-class trips\n Seven days cruises, honey don't trip\n Excel class if ya heard room fit\n Platinum cars, givin' no credit to me\n Tiffany labs,?\n H-class minerals with no floors in it\n Be one two, with the windows all tinnit\n And i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\n Everything is paid for, mami not rent it\n Two albums deep, it's all documented\n Y'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\n Look, g-o-l-d in a minute\n 'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\n It's di-a-mond d on ya set\n Throwin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n [ O.c. ]\n I'm doin' time in the rap game\n Sorta like a beered up north all one and the same\n My slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\n Like substers abusin' lies for cocaine\n I get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\n Two pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\n It's no joking when it comes to this\n On occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\n With a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\n Trade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\n For the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\n For lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\n Incorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\n For this i got love, not lust\n If i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n [ Chorus ]\n\n [A.g.]\n My flow, be sicker than yours\n Hoes, bounce gimme some mo'\n Wanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\n Wanna track from me? then gimme some dough\n I sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\n That's my ice that roll and light the dro'\n Love is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\n Diamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\n I might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\n Claim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\n Pop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\n Get dirty like?, it could get ugly\n I rock mines and cop top of the line cars\n Then charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\n Slight the tight men, cop about nine jars\n To trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n [Lord finesse]\n Niggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\n Name it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\n We straight, better see yaselfves\n We seein' more chips than the?\n On a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\n Iced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\n Rolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\n Throwing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\n Steady balling, why you stop the thing\n Blind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\n On some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\n Floors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\n Don't sleep, me and my crew's deep\n Whether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\n Salute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\n Fuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n [ Chorus ]\n"},{"id":13419103,"name":"Foundation","trackName":"Foundation","artistName":"D.I.T.C. / A.G. / Diamond D / Lord Finesse / O.C.","albumName":"D.I.T.C.","duration":236.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo .\n\nChorus: [diamond d]\nWe love the foundation, time to lock shit\nLadies look no more we got this\nD.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\nAnd while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\nAin't no stoppin' this like,?\nSee it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\nOn the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\nHating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n[dimaond d]\nI like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\nExpensive whips, first-class trips\nSeven days cruises, honey don't trip\nExcel class if ya heard room fit\nPlatinum cars, givin' no credit to me\nTiffany labs,?\nH-class minerals with no floors in it\nBe one two, with the windows all tinnit\nAnd i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\nEverything is paid for, mami not rent it\nTwo albums deep, it's all documented\nY'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\nLook, g-o-l-d in a minute\n'bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\nIt's di-a-mond d on ya set\nThrowin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n[ o.c. ]\nI'm doin' time in the rap game\nSorta like a beered up north all one and the same\nMy slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\nLike substers abusin' lies for cocaine\nI get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\nTwo pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\nIt's no joking when it comes to this\nOn occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\nWith a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\nTrade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\nFor the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\nFor lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\nIncorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\nFor this i got love, not lust\nIf i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n[ chorus ]\n\n[a.g.]\nMy flow, be sicker than yours\nHoes, bounce gimme some mo'\nWanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\nWanna track from me? then gimme some dough\nI sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\nThat's my ice that roll and light the dro'\nLove is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\nDiamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\nI might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\nClaim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\nPop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\nGet dirty like?, it could get ugly\nI rock mines and cop top of the line cars\nThen charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\nSlight the tight men, cop about nine jars\nTo trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n[lord finesse]\nNiggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\nName it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\nWe straight, better see yaselfves\nWe seein' more chips than the?\nOn a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\nIced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\nRolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\nThrowing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\nSteady balling, why you stop the thing\nBlind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\nOn some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\nFloors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\nDon't sleep, me and my crew's deep\nWhether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\nSalute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\nFuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n[ chorus ]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Foundation\n artist: D.I.T.C. / A.G. / Diamond D / Lord Finesse / O.C.\n album: D.I.T.C.\n duration_ms: 236000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo, yo, yo .\n\n Chorus: [diamond d]\n We love the foundation, time to lock shit\n Ladies look no more we got this\n D.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\n And while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\n Ain't no stoppin' this like,?\n See it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\n On the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\n Hating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n [dimaond d]\n I like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\n Expensive whips, first-class trips\n Seven days cruises, honey don't trip\n Excel class if ya heard room fit\n Platinum cars, givin' no credit to me\n Tiffany labs,?\n H-class minerals with no floors in it\n Be one two, with the windows all tinnit\n And i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\n Everything is paid for, mami not rent it\n Two albums deep, it's all documented\n Y'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\n Look, g-o-l-d in a minute\n 'bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\n It's di-a-mond d on ya set\n Throwin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n [ o.c. ]\n I'm doin' time in the rap game\n Sorta like a beered up north all one and the same\n My slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\n Like substers abusin' lies for cocaine\n I get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\n Two pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\n It's no joking when it comes to this\n On occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\n With a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\n Trade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\n For the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\n For lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\n Incorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\n For this i got love, not lust\n If i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n [ chorus ]\n\n [a.g.]\n My flow, be sicker than yours\n Hoes, bounce gimme some mo'\n Wanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\n Wanna track from me? then gimme some dough\n I sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\n That's my ice that roll and light the dro'\n Love is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\n Diamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\n I might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\n Claim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\n Pop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\n Get dirty like?, it could get ugly\n I rock mines and cop top of the line cars\n Then charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\n Slight the tight men, cop about nine jars\n To trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n [lord finesse]\n Niggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\n Name it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\n We straight, better see yaselfves\n We seein' more chips than the?\n On a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\n Iced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\n Rolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\n Throwing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\n Steady balling, why you stop the thing\n Blind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\n On some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\n Floors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\n Don't sleep, me and my crew's deep\n Whether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\n Salute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\n Fuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n [ chorus ]\n"},{"id":27487787,"name":"Foundation","trackName":"Foundation","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"Foundation","duration":233.877475,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo .\n\nChorus: [diamond d]\nWe love the foundation, time to lock shit\nLadies look no more we got this\nD.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\nAnd while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\nAin't no stoppin' this like,?\nSee it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\nOn the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\nHating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n[Dimaond d]\nI like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\nExpensive whips, first-class trips\nSeven days cruises, honey don't trip\nExcel class if ya heard room fit\nPlatinum cars, givin' no credit to me\nTiffany labs,?\nH-class minerals with no floors in it\nBe one two, with the windows all tinnit\nAnd i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\nEverything is paid for, mami not rent it\nTwo albums deep, it's all documented\nY'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\nLook, g-o-l-d in a minute\n'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\nIt's di-a-mond d on ya set\nThrowin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n[ O.c. ]\nI'm doin' time in the rap game\nSorta like a beered up north all one and the same\nMy slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\nLike substers abusin' lies for cocaine\nI get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\nTwo pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\nIt's no joking when it comes to this\nOn occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\nWith a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\nTrade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\nFor the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\nFor lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\nIncorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\nFor this i got love, not lust\nIf i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n[ Chorus ]\n\n[A.g.]\nMy flow, be sicker than yours\nHoes, bounce gimme some mo'\nWanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\nWanna track from me? then gimme some dough\nI sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\nThat's my ice that roll and light the dro'\nLove is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\nDiamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\nI might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\nClaim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\nPop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\nGet dirty like?, it could get ugly\nI rock mines and cop top of the line cars\nThen charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\nSlight the tight men, cop about nine jars\nTo trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n[Lord finesse]\nNiggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\nName it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\nWe straight, better see yaselfves\nWe seein' more chips than the?\nOn a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\nIced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\nRolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\nThrowing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\nSteady balling, why you stop the thing\nBlind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\nOn some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\nFloors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\nDon't sleep, me and my crew's deep\nWhether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\nSalute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\nFuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n[ Chorus ]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Foundation\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: Foundation\n duration_ms: 233877\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo, yo, yo .\n\n Chorus: [diamond d]\n We love the foundation, time to lock shit\n Ladies look no more we got this\n D.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\n And while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\n Ain't no stoppin' this like,?\n See it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\n On the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\n Hating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n [Dimaond d]\n I like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\n Expensive whips, first-class trips\n Seven days cruises, honey don't trip\n Excel class if ya heard room fit\n Platinum cars, givin' no credit to me\n Tiffany labs,?\n H-class minerals with no floors in it\n Be one two, with the windows all tinnit\n And i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\n Everything is paid for, mami not rent it\n Two albums deep, it's all documented\n Y'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\n Look, g-o-l-d in a minute\n 'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\n It's di-a-mond d on ya set\n Throwin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n [ O.c. ]\n I'm doin' time in the rap game\n Sorta like a beered up north all one and the same\n My slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\n Like substers abusin' lies for cocaine\n I get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\n Two pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\n It's no joking when it comes to this\n On occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\n With a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\n Trade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\n For the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\n For lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\n Incorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\n For this i got love, not lust\n If i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n [ Chorus ]\n\n [A.g.]\n My flow, be sicker than yours\n Hoes, bounce gimme some mo'\n Wanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\n Wanna track from me? then gimme some dough\n I sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\n That's my ice that roll and light the dro'\n Love is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\n Diamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\n I might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\n Claim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\n Pop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\n Get dirty like?, it could get ugly\n I rock mines and cop top of the line cars\n Then charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\n Slight the tight men, cop about nine jars\n To trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n [Lord finesse]\n Niggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\n Name it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\n We straight, better see yaselfves\n We seein' more chips than the?\n On a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\n Iced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\n Rolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\n Throwing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\n Steady balling, why you stop the thing\n Blind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\n On some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\n Floors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\n Don't sleep, me and my crew's deep\n Whether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\n Salute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\n Fuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n [ Chorus ]\n"},{"id":26598268,"name":"Weekend Nights","trackName":"Weekend Nights","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"Foundation","duration":194.04075,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[ A.G. ]\n\nNow once I flick my bick, and the dutch get lit\nBloodeye spit, like you bust my shit\nWill it never happen, I'm forever rappin'\nI clap 'em, and dead 'em\nSend 'em home packing, for acting\nThe black's in\nEase the pain just like tunacting\nHoney is fine as a f**k, plus she snuck the mack in\nGuess what, next up, she turn assassin\nAlong with, thirty of my dirty niggaz, blastin'\nI hear em platinum callin', and worldwide touring\nYou want hoes? Come to any show I'm performing\nYou rob me tonight? You want make it to the morning\nRolled up on 'em, when this killers froze up on 'em\nAnd I came with a whole truck for 'em\nTry to tell 'em, that he got no bucks they won't bust for 'em\nAnd if sh*t get hectic, I'm calling mo' niggaz\nGoldgetters, golddiggaz get no liquors\nBut no weed, we hold figgaz\nAnd we so cheat (?), and we hold heat\n\n[ Chorus ] [ 2x ]\n\nIt was a weekend night and my niggas is chilling\nBurners in the bushes and the Lexus spilling\nBlunts getting blazed, mad chicks is tripping\nMy niggas get ya dirt on\n\n[ A.G. ]\n\nNow some cats in the hood wear shorts for draws\nSweats for longjohns, tryin' to get their warm on\nI'm strong on, any song I perform on\nGet papes, celebrate like the date I was born on\nI spit blood and get love, sip Bud and flip cus\nthem niggas wanna leave me twisted like the spliff does\nBut I react, hoes in ya head watch ya sh*t flood\nLike Noa's Ark, blunts burnin' like Jona Fark (?)\nI squeeze with ease like Tone and Mark\nWe (?) demolish straight from (?)\nDeeper than knowledge\nEquipped to speak at ya college\nYou kill me fronting when I'm for really coming\nCarravans packed up with my mans in 'em\n'Cause I really want em\nIt's all good like Willy Hunting\nWatch my diamonds glitter, I sit back and really realize\nThat I'm the nigga, they wanna know me\nIf you feel me, come show me\nIs it really real? Or 'cause I know Pun and Joey\nYeah my sh*t shine my sunny Rolly\nIt couldn't hold me, if you was thick like Shaq or quick like Kobe\nShow & A get the love, my niggaz mix the? with the Bud\nShow the dirty don and mister Mud\nChicks give quickies and flicks in clubs, so hit the dutch\nAnd if sh*t get hectic, I'm calling mo' niggaz\nGoldgetters, golddiggaz get no liquors\nBut no weed, we hold figgaz\nAnd we so cheat (?), and we hold heat\n\n[ Chorus ] [ 2x ]\n\nIt was a weekend night and my niggas is chilling\nBurners in the bushes and the Lexus spilling\nBlunts getting blazed, mad chicks is tripping\nMy niggas get ya dirt on","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Weekend Nights\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: Foundation\n duration_ms: 194041\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n [ A.G. ]\n\n Now once I flick my bick, and the dutch get lit\n Bloodeye spit, like you bust my shit\n Will it never happen, I'm forever rappin'\n I clap 'em, and dead 'em\n Send 'em home packing, for acting\n The black's in\n Ease the pain just like tunacting\n Honey is fine as a f**k, plus she snuck the mack in\n Guess what, next up, she turn assassin\n Along with, thirty of my dirty niggaz, blastin'\n I hear em platinum callin', and worldwide touring\n You want hoes? Come to any show I'm performing\n You rob me tonight? You want make it to the morning\n Rolled up on 'em, when this killers froze up on 'em\n And I came with a whole truck for 'em\n Try to tell 'em, that he got no bucks they won't bust for 'em\n And if sh*t get hectic, I'm calling mo' niggaz\n Goldgetters, golddiggaz get no liquors\n But no weed, we hold figgaz\n And we so cheat (?), and we hold heat\n\n [ Chorus ] [ 2x ]\n\n It was a weekend night and my niggas is chilling\n Burners in the bushes and the Lexus spilling\n Blunts getting blazed, mad chicks is tripping\n My niggas get ya dirt on\n\n [ A.G. ]\n\n Now some cats in the hood wear shorts for draws\n Sweats for longjohns, tryin' to get their warm on\n I'm strong on, any song I perform on\n Get papes, celebrate like the date I was born on\n I spit blood and get love, sip Bud and flip cus\n them niggas wanna leave me twisted like the spliff does\n But I react, hoes in ya head watch ya sh*t flood\n Like Noa's Ark, blunts burnin' like Jona Fark (?)\n I squeeze with ease like Tone and Mark\n We (?) demolish straight from (?)\n Deeper than knowledge\n Equipped to speak at ya college\n You kill me fronting when I'm for really coming\n Carravans packed up with my mans in 'em\n 'Cause I really want em\n It's all good like Willy Hunting\n Watch my diamonds glitter, I sit back and really realize\n That I'm the nigga, they wanna know me\n If you feel me, come show me\n Is it really real? Or 'cause I know Pun and Joey\n Yeah my sh*t shine my sunny Rolly\n It couldn't hold me, if you was thick like Shaq or quick like Kobe\n Show & A get the love, my niggaz mix the? with the Bud\n Show the dirty don and mister Mud\n Chicks give quickies and flicks in clubs, so hit the dutch\n And if sh*t get hectic, I'm calling mo' niggaz\n Goldgetters, golddiggaz get no liquors\n But no weed, we hold figgaz\n And we so cheat (?), and we hold heat\n\n [ Chorus ] [ 2x ]\n\n It was a weekend night and my niggas is chilling\n Burners in the bushes and the Lexus spilling\n Blunts getting blazed, mad chicks is tripping\n My niggas get ya dirt on\n"},{"id":27278776,"name":"Way Of Life","trackName":"Way Of Life","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"Foundation","duration":285.286475,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Featuring big l fat joe\n\n[Fat joe]\nDiggin in the crates 9 9\nYeah yeah still diggin y'all\nYeah yeah yo yo\nThere's only one way for me to explain the key to this game\nIs longev keep it the same\nThe seeds'll remain only if they bringin the pain\nHip hop don't stop like the heat in my vein\nThe streets know my name don carta bomb harder\nMy persona is honored in the bronx as my alma matter\nI'm smarter than the average joe, packin a flow\nThat's stackin the dough, let's bring the chips in the bag and let's go\nIt's fat joe, i'ma set it straight\nIf you do your hist i exist through diggin in the crates\nI'm bringin in the ace, had to stay up late\nPlayin the corners but never seen a day upstate\nUntil the day i escape or see tone at the pearly gates\nI continue to runch it even after the computer breaks\nYou know the rates, fifty-thou for every verse that's foul\nAnd i bring rhymes to life like the birth of a child\n\n\"Verbal assualt\" \"blow out your tweeters\"[fat joe]\n\"Big l\"[dj premier] *cut and scratched*\n\n[Big l]\nCheck it, my whole crew holdin\nWe all got cars wit extra features\nIt's a bunch of y'all, one got dough, the rest is leeches\nYou probably mad cuz i be sexin divas\nI should pull this pistol out and make you touch your sneakers\nI'm on some cool out shit, but i will pull this tool out quick\nAnd put some holes in your new outfit\nYou frontin hard cuz your whip a range\nBut it's a 4.0, you nerd nigga, you heard jigga now get your change\nYou ain't a willy you a small solider, give it up son it's all over\nAnd you never sold a, pound a cane\nYou a clown wit fame, goin down the drain\nAll yo' shit sound the same\nI'ma shine pop-o, cuz when you got dough your rocks glow\nL got a hot flow that rap coppo\nI'm uptown smoothest, first album left you clowns clueless\nSayin i'm wack, you niggas sound foolish\nNiggas hate to see l bubble, they'd rather see l struggle\nCuz what they sell, i'ma sell double\nYou wanna see rocks, then look at l's wrist\nIf you see me in the club drinkin mo' that means they don't see cris, what","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Way Of Life\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: Foundation\n duration_ms: 285286\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Featuring big l fat joe\n\n [Fat joe]\n Diggin in the crates 9 9\n Yeah yeah still diggin y'all\n Yeah yeah yo yo\n There's only one way for me to explain the key to this game\n Is longev keep it the same\n The seeds'll remain only if they bringin the pain\n Hip hop don't stop like the heat in my vein\n The streets know my name don carta bomb harder\n My persona is honored in the bronx as my alma matter\n I'm smarter than the average joe, packin a flow\n That's stackin the dough, let's bring the chips in the bag and let's go\n It's fat joe, i'ma set it straight\n If you do your hist i exist through diggin in the crates\n I'm bringin in the ace, had to stay up late\n Playin the corners but never seen a day upstate\n Until the day i escape or see tone at the pearly gates\n I continue to runch it even after the computer breaks\n You know the rates, fifty-thou for every verse that's foul\n And i bring rhymes to life like the birth of a child\n\n \"Verbal assualt\" \"blow out your tweeters\"[fat joe]\n \"Big l\"[dj premier] *cut and scratched*\n\n [Big l]\n Check it, my whole crew holdin\n We all got cars wit extra features\n It's a bunch of y'all, one got dough, the rest is leeches\n You probably mad cuz i be sexin divas\n I should pull this pistol out and make you touch your sneakers\n I'm on some cool out shit, but i will pull this tool out quick\n And put some holes in your new outfit\n You frontin hard cuz your whip a range\n But it's a 4.0, you nerd nigga, you heard jigga now get your change\n You ain't a willy you a small solider, give it up son it's all over\n And you never sold a, pound a cane\n You a clown wit fame, goin down the drain\n All yo' shit sound the same\n I'ma shine pop-o, cuz when you got dough your rocks glow\n L got a hot flow that rap coppo\n I'm uptown smoothest, first album left you clowns clueless\n Sayin i'm wack, you niggas sound foolish\n Niggas hate to see l bubble, they'd rather see l struggle\n Cuz what they sell, i'ma sell double\n You wanna see rocks, then look at l's wrist\n If you see me in the club drinkin mo' that means they don't see cris, what\n"},{"id":26237315,"name":"Champagne Thoughts","trackName":"Champagne Thoughts","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"Foundation","duration":234.1387,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Uh, uh\nWhat\nD.I.T.C\nWhat\nShh\nCreeps, straight up\nStraight up\nY'all, laying in the cut\nWhat!\n\n[O.C.]\nStrangers I don't trust\nPeep out the scenery so I can adjust\nOnce was a fool\n'Til I learned the rules, the hard way\nPeace by dukes, I was shook\nGot slept, nowadays I'm keeping it stepped\nBut it ain't to the point that I'm rocking a vest\nI'm in this wellish * shit * 'til I die\nTiltin' I'm keeping it fly\nOn the rags staying out of the red\nBlood, sweat with no tears\n* Fuck * having fears\nTwo thou' head on, meeting it dead on\nMillennium, many dumb to the fact\nYou clap that Mush and I'm a bust right back\nFor realer, live * nigga *, shit in my eyes\nIf ya test my strength I'm a give you a surprise * nigga *\nSome want the quiet type\nI'm not the cat in the party that will start the fight\n\nChorus: repeat 2X\n\nIt's just champagne thoughts (thoughts)\nMan made to floss (word)\nVanity or lust (lust)\nWeed makes more\nStick up the bank and make off with it all\nPick up the start where the others left off\n\n[O.C.]\nDoing what I gotta do at any cause\nKnowing life is short\nGive or take a few blows with nuts to show\nSometimes you make friends especially when\nThe ends play a part out of nowhere\nSkins at the bar\nSucking up\nChampagne is just like * shit *\nTrack wanna be wives, nothing but flies\nAnybody applies when you stink like dough\nMany take a sniff when they walk past O\nOr walk past 'Ness to L, Diamond or Buck\nA.G and Show, that * nigga * Fat Joe\nThe ones giving head figure it count for dead\nPrez pays offs, deep throat my crew you gon' stay whores\nGoin' spots like swat, my entourage stepping through free of charge\nEverybody watch bouncers clout the VIP\nA space reserved for the whole D.I.T.C\n\nChorus 2X\n\nY'all Y'all (over last 2 lines of chorus)\n\n[O.C.]\nI got G's on mind Cream to blow at times\nWeed smoke once in a blue, it's something to do\nWhip around one deep in my LS4\nShorty knows open wide like she sniffin' it raw\nGot a loc crossed out, buckwilin' is a no, no\nRap name O.C, Mush Shine be my M.O\nJust to find the means in the end\nWhen it's all set it s done, with a crib and keys to Benz\nTwin now berettas serial straight to letters\nWorld keep 'em ducked this side the white leather\nCyanide thought s make shots run off\nSabotage with the snitch that decided to talk\nGreedy * niggas * get snatched by the Rico lords\nThen the murder one stuck, when it rains it pours\nYoung cats with cigars and shot out jaws\nYoung black entrepreneurs read the violence of form\n\nChorus 3X (with ad-libs)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Champagne Thoughts\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: Foundation\n duration_ms: 234139\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Uh, uh\n What\n D.I.T.C\n What\n Shh\n Creeps, straight up\n Straight up\n Y'all, laying in the cut\n What!\n\n [O.C.]\n Strangers I don't trust\n Peep out the scenery so I can adjust\n Once was a fool\n 'Til I learned the rules, the hard way\n Peace by dukes, I was shook\n Got slept, nowadays I'm keeping it stepped\n But it ain't to the point that I'm rocking a vest\n I'm in this wellish * shit * 'til I die\n Tiltin' I'm keeping it fly\n On the rags staying out of the red\n Blood, sweat with no tears\n * Fuck * having fears\n Two thou' head on, meeting it dead on\n Millennium, many dumb to the fact\n You clap that Mush and I'm a bust right back\n For realer, live * nigga *, shit in my eyes\n If ya test my strength I'm a give you a surprise * nigga *\n Some want the quiet type\n I'm not the cat in the party that will start the fight\n\n Chorus: repeat 2X\n\n It's just champagne thoughts (thoughts)\n Man made to floss (word)\n Vanity or lust (lust)\n Weed makes more\n Stick up the bank and make off with it all\n Pick up the start where the others left off\n\n [O.C.]\n Doing what I gotta do at any cause\n Knowing life is short\n Give or take a few blows with nuts to show\n Sometimes you make friends especially when\n The ends play a part out of nowhere\n Skins at the bar\n Sucking up\n Champagne is just like * shit *\n Track wanna be wives, nothing but flies\n Anybody applies when you stink like dough\n Many take a sniff when they walk past O\n Or walk past 'Ness to L, Diamond or Buck\n A.G and Show, that * nigga * Fat Joe\n The ones giving head figure it count for dead\n Prez pays offs, deep throat my crew you gon' stay whores\n Goin' spots like swat, my entourage stepping through free of charge\n Everybody watch bouncers clout the VIP\n A space reserved for the whole D.I.T.C\n\n Chorus 2X\n\n Y'all Y'all (over last 2 lines of chorus)\n\n [O.C.]\n I got G's on mind Cream to blow at times\n Weed smoke once in a blue, it's something to do\n Whip around one deep in my LS4\n Shorty knows open wide like she sniffin' it raw\n Got a loc crossed out, buckwilin' is a no, no\n Rap name O.C, Mush Shine be my M.O\n Just to find the means in the end\n When it's all set it s done, with a crib and keys to Benz\n Twin now berettas serial straight to letters\n World keep 'em ducked this side the white leather\n Cyanide thought s make shots run off\n Sabotage with the snitch that decided to talk\n Greedy * niggas * get snatched by the Rico lords\n Then the murder one stuck, when it rains it pours\n Young cats with cigars and shot out jaws\n Young black entrepreneurs read the violence of form\n\n Chorus 3X (with ad-libs)\n"},{"id":25378633,"name":"Hey Love","trackName":"Hey Love","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"Foundation","duration":271.807275,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(feat. Cuban Link, Milano)\n\n[Intro: Milano]\n\nYeah, Milano, Cuban Links, O.C.\nYou know how we do things\nWe always get our way\nUngh, never hate when we play\nKnow what I mean\nUngh\n\n[Verse 1:]\n\nI only think of broads on two occasions\nWhen I'm blazin and try to persuade 'em\nTo slide off with slick dialogue\nWe pop off a bottle of Remi, Milano got plenty\nPocket of Benji', swallowin Jimmy\nMami hot already, Poppi been heavy\nBefore I got signed, before I wore signs\nWhy the broke niggas swear they only quote dimes\nOr hold minds\nAnd made a law\n? Forced into immigrant walls?\nMaking high calls\nLike damn paso's\nYa'll ain't playa's you just keep the bench warm\nMilano run through 'em, life Stephon\nGet you game tight, I'm the exception\nA freak when I get my sex on\nLick cheeks when the thongs come off\nWhip cream with cherry Hagen Daaz\nFor starters we take shots with Polaroids\nRunnin trizzy, call all my boys\nWatchin Six get busy with a roll of toys\nStill keep it low point\nStandin a club up\nMy niggaz wild and drunk\nAin't no stoppin us\nFrom getting lots of love, puffin chocolate\nOn acid we got the rough\nShould we locks it up?\nIt ain't hard to spot us\nPullin the Expo slow, tellin the hoes to pile up\nNo wonder on the low, niggas despise us\nCause we live'as\n\n[Chorus: Milano]\n\nNow when we up in the club we lookin major, hey luv\nWe pop puffs, cause we paid up, hey luv\nNow its off to my crib for a night cap, straight up\nForgot the small talk ma we just wanna lay up\n[x2]\n\n[Verse 2: Cuban Link]\n\nYea, stick the pretty up\nPoppa stopped by the titty clubs\nPimpin ain't easy like the shit I did with? Willie Stubbs?\nReally love\nMoney, power and respect\nHoney that fuck for hours in bed\nSex in the showers the best\nCheck out the body banger\nThe hottest Pocahontas, she's probably danger\nI'm not a stranger\nTo the game so I'm throwing change up\nMy willy fingers trying to figure her out\nI dig her style, I'ma find out what this chick is about\nFuck the foul chickens, I need a money makin honey\nA playboy bunny\nThat doesn't want nuthin from me\nIts funny how she's one of a kind\nFrom front and behind, top of the line\nDimepiece, bright as the sunshine\nMy kinda lady, maybe\nDrives me crazy, like Miss Daisy\nThe wake she shakes her acey\nMakes me wanna taste her pastry\nMaybe its the liquor talking\nCause I don't whisper often\nA simple kiss, will have her grab my wrist, and wishin she was closin\nThis is more than just a portion\nOf my lifestyle my right brow\nTook her to my crib, and put the lights out\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Verse 3: Milano]\n\nUngh, listen ma\nIts only certain ones\nThat get to slurpin on my tongue\nWorstened by some\nHurtin them buns\nWorkin it luv\nShit is worst when I'm numb\nAny hottie\nIs getting back shotties\nIt'll probably be hours before\nI seem twisted from the Bacardi on\nIf they party on\nLike its Mardi Gras\nBrought the camcorders along\nLadies, time to flaunt on\nGet the hunny, pour it on\nLickin your buddy, I saw it all\nRecorded it all\nSo if you wanna be on that at all\nGot the baddest broads\nLockin they jaws\nNever cockin it raw\nI'm not the aids type for blotches or sores\nI'm getting paid right, watch for them frauds\nEven my chains ice nigga, alotta's the call\nSome slice whores, I see 'em coming\nIts like once you pluck, you got 'em pregnant or somethin\nFor those they hunger\nTrying to trap dudes\nSee I get my woman bashful\nFreak on the low, on natural\nBank account on cash rules\nThats an example, so while I'm tappin your womb\nI'm laughin at you\nSpending your loot, on casual\nJewels, and shoes\nDon't act the fool\nLike your screws loose\nI ain't to blame\nSee she wasn't tame\nAnd I ain't even have to drop game\nBorn to rock game\nMilan', when my crews involved, its how we swang\nThis is how we swang\n\n[Chorus]\n\n[Outro: Cuban Link]\n\nLay up, lay up\nStraight up, straight up\nUngh, ungh, ungh","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Hey Love\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: Foundation\n duration_ms: 271807\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n (feat. Cuban Link, Milano)\n\n [Intro: Milano]\n\n Yeah, Milano, Cuban Links, O.C.\n You know how we do things\n We always get our way\n Ungh, never hate when we play\n Know what I mean\n Ungh\n\n [Verse 1:]\n\n I only think of broads on two occasions\n When I'm blazin and try to persuade 'em\n To slide off with slick dialogue\n We pop off a bottle of Remi, Milano got plenty\n Pocket of Benji', swallowin Jimmy\n Mami hot already, Poppi been heavy\n Before I got signed, before I wore signs\n Why the broke niggas swear they only quote dimes\n Or hold minds\n And made a law\n ? Forced into immigrant walls?\n Making high calls\n Like damn paso's\n Ya'll ain't playa's you just keep the bench warm\n Milano run through 'em, life Stephon\n Get you game tight, I'm the exception\n A freak when I get my sex on\n Lick cheeks when the thongs come off\n Whip cream with cherry Hagen Daaz\n For starters we take shots with Polaroids\n Runnin trizzy, call all my boys\n Watchin Six get busy with a roll of toys\n Still keep it low point\n Standin a club up\n My niggaz wild and drunk\n Ain't no stoppin us\n From getting lots of love, puffin chocolate\n On acid we got the rough\n Should we locks it up?\n It ain't hard to spot us\n Pullin the Expo slow, tellin the hoes to pile up\n No wonder on the low, niggas despise us\n Cause we live'as\n\n [Chorus: Milano]\n\n Now when we up in the club we lookin major, hey luv\n We pop puffs, cause we paid up, hey luv\n Now its off to my crib for a night cap, straight up\n Forgot the small talk ma we just wanna lay up\n [x2]\n\n [Verse 2: Cuban Link]\n\n Yea, stick the pretty up\n Poppa stopped by the titty clubs\n Pimpin ain't easy like the shit I did with? Willie Stubbs?\n Really love\n Money, power and respect\n Honey that fuck for hours in bed\n Sex in the showers the best\n Check out the body banger\n The hottest Pocahontas, she's probably danger\n I'm not a stranger\n To the game so I'm throwing change up\n My willy fingers trying to figure her out\n I dig her style, I'ma find out what this chick is about\n Fuck the foul chickens, I need a money makin honey\n A playboy bunny\n That doesn't want nuthin from me\n Its funny how she's one of a kind\n From front and behind, top of the line\n Dimepiece, bright as the sunshine\n My kinda lady, maybe\n Drives me crazy, like Miss Daisy\n The wake she shakes her acey\n Makes me wanna taste her pastry\n Maybe its the liquor talking\n Cause I don't whisper often\n A simple kiss, will have her grab my wrist, and wishin she was closin\n This is more than just a portion\n Of my lifestyle my right brow\n Took her to my crib, and put the lights out\n\n [Chorus]\n\n [Verse 3: Milano]\n\n Ungh, listen ma\n Its only certain ones\n That get to slurpin on my tongue\n Worstened by some\n Hurtin them buns\n Workin it luv\n Shit is worst when I'm numb\n Any hottie\n Is getting back shotties\n It'll probably be hours before\n I seem twisted from the Bacardi on\n If they party on\n Like its Mardi Gras\n Brought the camcorders along\n Ladies, time to flaunt on\n Get the hunny, pour it on\n Lickin your buddy, I saw it all\n Recorded it all\n So if you wanna be on that at all\n Got the baddest broads\n Lockin they jaws\n Never cockin it raw\n I'm not the aids type for blotches or sores\n I'm getting paid right, watch for them frauds\n Even my chains ice nigga, alotta's the call\n Some slice whores, I see 'em coming\n Its like once you pluck, you got 'em pregnant or somethin\n For those they hunger\n Trying to trap dudes\n See I get my woman bashful\n Freak on the low, on natural\n Bank account on cash rules\n Thats an example, so while I'm tappin your womb\n I'm laughin at you\n Spending your loot, on casual\n Jewels, and shoes\n Don't act the fool\n Like your screws loose\n I ain't to blame\n See she wasn't tame\n And I ain't even have to drop game\n Born to rock game\n Milan', when my crews involved, its how we swang\n This is how we swang\n\n [Chorus]\n\n [Outro: Cuban Link]\n\n Lay up, lay up\n Straight up, straight up\n Ungh, ungh, ungh\n"},{"id":25743433,"name":"Thick (Rockwilder Mix)","trackName":"Thick (Rockwilder Mix)","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"Foundation","duration":237.8481,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"\"Worldwide\" \"Time to handle our biz\"\n\"Down with the group called Diggin in the Crates\" (Repeat 2x)\n\nThick is how I got my whole click to sound\nThick is how we gets down from town to town\nIf you didn't know this click can't be touched\nIf your click ain't thick you ain't fucking with us\n\nWe on a world tour with Midnight Mauraders and such\nI'm at the table like the Godfather smoking a dutch\nControlling the bucks, I roll with enough\nNiggas that'll blow in the clutch\nNot only holding we bust\nThe fat raps, so pass that and let me hit it\nGot me gassed, black, skins was mad fat\nShe flipped it, Bronx is equipped with, niggas that'll rip shit\nStudios get blown from D&D to Mystic\nWith this shit, I'll bomb the nation from a distance\nThe jewels, gotta have patience plus persistence\nWe rock glass like Rockford\nWaiting for bottles to pop in the condo bottles get rocked\nTo sum up my career from bottom to top\nNow we in the thick of it, and you don't stop\n\nThick is how I got my whole click to sound\nThick is how we gets down from town to town\nIf you didn't know this click can't be touched\nIf your click ain't thick you ain't fucking with us\n\nCheck it, I be puffing blunts in the house sexing stunts on the couch\nThis year, a lot of frauds might get punched in the mouth\nFor when your wife see me, she don't know how to act\nSo don't be mad when I blow out her back, for real\nYour whole team a bunch of pooh-puts who made a few bucks\nDate a few sluts then why'all start running your lips a little too much\nMy whole crew wild, thick as new now\nWe go to clubs, hit the bar, and trip 2 thou\nOther MC's ain't got a chance at all\nCause Big L Corleone is to advanced for why'all\nChicks can never walk away cause they like the sex\nFlamboyent is the label that writes the checks\nI'm a pimped-out nigga that walks with canes\nTalk with slang, ball from New York to Spain\nHaters E-N-V-why me be -I-G\nCause I'm V.I.P. til I D-I-E, what?\n\nThick is how I got my whole click to sound\nThick is how we gets down from town to town\nIf you didn't know this click can't be touched\nIf your click ain't thick you ain't fucking with us (Repeat 2x)\n\nI spark light with the pen, drink O.J. with gin\nRock Tims with my laces untied\nCruise in the city on 17 inches, ride past wenches\nPast the projects, thugs chilling on the benches\nProfile low as if I had an ill vengeance\nLife on earth is just a death sentence\nFuck it, alpha omega, arm lega lega arm\nWith cold steel if you pose a threat to my neighbor\nD-I double G I-N, I-N T-H-E Crates, lock shit times ten\nDive in, become part of a cliche, that art of an expert\nYour honor from New York to Florida\nChicks rush the corridors, chicks try to star with us\nBesides rolling thick my whole crew be marvelous\n\nThick is how I got my whole click to sound\nThick is how we gets down from town to town\nIf you didn't know this click can't be touched\nIf your click ain't thick you ain't fucking with us\n\n\"Worldwide\" \"Time to handle our biz\"\n\"Down with the group called Diggin in the Crates\" (Repeat 2x)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Thick (Rockwilder Mix)\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: Foundation\n duration_ms: 237848\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n \"Worldwide\" \"Time to handle our biz\"\n \"Down with the group called Diggin in the Crates\" (Repeat 2x)\n\n Thick is how I got my whole click to sound\n Thick is how we gets down from town to town\n If you didn't know this click can't be touched\n If your click ain't thick you ain't fucking with us\n\n We on a world tour with Midnight Mauraders and such\n I'm at the table like the Godfather smoking a dutch\n Controlling the bucks, I roll with enough\n Niggas that'll blow in the clutch\n Not only holding we bust\n The fat raps, so pass that and let me hit it\n Got me gassed, black, skins was mad fat\n She flipped it, Bronx is equipped with, niggas that'll rip shit\n Studios get blown from D&D to Mystic\n With this shit, I'll bomb the nation from a distance\n The jewels, gotta have patience plus persistence\n We rock glass like Rockford\n Waiting for bottles to pop in the condo bottles get rocked\n To sum up my career from bottom to top\n Now we in the thick of it, and you don't stop\n\n Thick is how I got my whole click to sound\n Thick is how we gets down from town to town\n If you didn't know this click can't be touched\n If your click ain't thick you ain't fucking with us\n\n Check it, I be puffing blunts in the house sexing stunts on the couch\n This year, a lot of frauds might get punched in the mouth\n For when your wife see me, she don't know how to act\n So don't be mad when I blow out her back, for real\n Your whole team a bunch of pooh-puts who made a few bucks\n Date a few sluts then why'all start running your lips a little too much\n My whole crew wild, thick as new now\n We go to clubs, hit the bar, and trip 2 thou\n Other MC's ain't got a chance at all\n Cause Big L Corleone is to advanced for why'all\n Chicks can never walk away cause they like the sex\n Flamboyent is the label that writes the checks\n I'm a pimped-out nigga that walks with canes\n Talk with slang, ball from New York to Spain\n Haters E-N-V-why me be -I-G\n Cause I'm V.I.P. til I D-I-E, what?\n\n Thick is how I got my whole click to sound\n Thick is how we gets down from town to town\n If you didn't know this click can't be touched\n If your click ain't thick you ain't fucking with us (Repeat 2x)\n\n I spark light with the pen, drink O.J. with gin\n Rock Tims with my laces untied\n Cruise in the city on 17 inches, ride past wenches\n Past the projects, thugs chilling on the benches\n Profile low as if I had an ill vengeance\n Life on earth is just a death sentence\n Fuck it, alpha omega, arm lega lega arm\n With cold steel if you pose a threat to my neighbor\n D-I double G I-N, I-N T-H-E Crates, lock shit times ten\n Dive in, become part of a cliche, that art of an expert\n Your honor from New York to Florida\n Chicks rush the corridors, chicks try to star with us\n Besides rolling thick my whole crew be marvelous\n\n Thick is how I got my whole click to sound\n Thick is how we gets down from town to town\n If you didn't know this click can't be touched\n If your click ain't thick you ain't fucking with us\n\n \"Worldwide\" \"Time to handle our biz\"\n \"Down with the group called Diggin in the Crates\" (Repeat 2x)\n"},{"id":19782773,"name":"Foundation","trackName":"Foundation","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"The Official Version","duration":231.842042,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo .\n\nChorus: [diamond d]\nWe love the foundation, time to lock shit\nLadies look no more we got this\nD.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\nAnd while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\nAin't no stoppin' this like,?\nSee it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\nOn the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\nHating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n[Dimaond d]\nI like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\nExpensive whips, first-class trips\nSeven days cruises, honey don't trip\nExcel class if ya heard room fit\nPlatinum cars, givin' no credit to me\nTiffany labs,?\nH-class minerals with no floors in it\nBe one two, with the windows all tinnit\nAnd i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\nEverything is paid for, mami not rent it\nTwo albums deep, it's all documented\nY'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\nLook, g-o-l-d in a minute\n'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\nIt's di-a-mond d on ya set\nThrowin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n[ O.c. ]\nI'm doin' time in the rap game\nSorta like a beered up north all one and the same\nMy slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\nLike substers abusin' lies for cocaine\nI get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\nTwo pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\nIt's no joking when it comes to this\nOn occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\nWith a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\nTrade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\nFor the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\nFor lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\nIncorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\nFor this i got love, not lust\nIf i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n[ Chorus ]\n\n[A.g.]\nMy flow, be sicker than yours\nHoes, bounce gimme some mo'\nWanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\nWanna track from me? then gimme some dough\nI sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\nThat's my ice that roll and light the dro'\nLove is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\nDiamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\nI might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\nClaim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\nPop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\nGet dirty like?, it could get ugly\nI rock mines and cop top of the line cars\nThen charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\nSlight the tight men, cop about nine jars\nTo trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n[Lord finesse]\nNiggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\nName it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\nWe straight, better see yaselfves\nWe seein' more chips than the?\nOn a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\nIced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\nRolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\nThrowing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\nSteady balling, why you stop the thing\nBlind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\nOn some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\nFloors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\nDon't sleep, me and my crew's deep\nWhether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\nSalute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\nFuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n[ Chorus ]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Foundation\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: The Official Version\n duration_ms: 231842\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo, yo, yo .\n\n Chorus: [diamond d]\n We love the foundation, time to lock shit\n Ladies look no more we got this\n D.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\n And while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\n Ain't no stoppin' this like,?\n See it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\n On the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\n Hating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n [Dimaond d]\n I like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\n Expensive whips, first-class trips\n Seven days cruises, honey don't trip\n Excel class if ya heard room fit\n Platinum cars, givin' no credit to me\n Tiffany labs,?\n H-class minerals with no floors in it\n Be one two, with the windows all tinnit\n And i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\n Everything is paid for, mami not rent it\n Two albums deep, it's all documented\n Y'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\n Look, g-o-l-d in a minute\n 'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\n It's di-a-mond d on ya set\n Throwin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n [ O.c. ]\n I'm doin' time in the rap game\n Sorta like a beered up north all one and the same\n My slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\n Like substers abusin' lies for cocaine\n I get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\n Two pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\n It's no joking when it comes to this\n On occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\n With a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\n Trade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\n For the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\n For lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\n Incorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\n For this i got love, not lust\n If i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n [ Chorus ]\n\n [A.g.]\n My flow, be sicker than yours\n Hoes, bounce gimme some mo'\n Wanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\n Wanna track from me? then gimme some dough\n I sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\n That's my ice that roll and light the dro'\n Love is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\n Diamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\n I might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\n Claim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\n Pop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\n Get dirty like?, it could get ugly\n I rock mines and cop top of the line cars\n Then charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\n Slight the tight men, cop about nine jars\n To trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n [Lord finesse]\n Niggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\n Name it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\n We straight, better see yaselfves\n We seein' more chips than the?\n On a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\n Iced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\n Rolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\n Throwing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\n Steady balling, why you stop the thing\n Blind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\n On some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\n Floors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\n Don't sleep, me and my crew's deep\n Whether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\n Salute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\n Fuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n [ Chorus ]\n"},{"id":22297114,"name":"Foundation","trackName":"Foundation","artistName":"D.I.T.C.","albumName":"The Official Version","duration":226.82,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo .\n\nChorus: [diamond d]\nWe love the foundation, time to lock shit\nLadies look no more we got this\nD.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\nAnd while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\nAin't no stoppin' this like,?\nSee it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\nOn the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\nHating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n[Dimaond d]\nI like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\nExpensive whips, first-class trips\nSeven days cruises, honey don't trip\nExcel class if ya heard room fit\nPlatinum cars, givin' no credit to me\nTiffany labs,?\nH-class minerals with no floors in it\nBe one two, with the windows all tinnit\nAnd i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\nEverything is paid for, mami not rent it\nTwo albums deep, it's all documented\nY'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\nLook, g-o-l-d in a minute\n'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\nIt's di-a-mond d on ya set\nThrowin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n[ O.c. ]\nI'm doin' time in the rap game\nSorta like a beered up north all one and the same\nMy slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\nLike substers abusin' lies for cocaine\nI get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\nTwo pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\nIt's no joking when it comes to this\nOn occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\nWith a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\nTrade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\nFor the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\nFor lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\nIncorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\nFor this i got love, not lust\nIf i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n[ Chorus ]\n\n[A.g.]\nMy flow, be sicker than yours\nHoes, bounce gimme some mo'\nWanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\nWanna track from me? then gimme some dough\nI sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\nThat's my ice that roll and light the dro'\nLove is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\nDiamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\nI might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\nClaim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\nPop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\nGet dirty like?, it could get ugly\nI rock mines and cop top of the line cars\nThen charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\nSlight the tight men, cop about nine jars\nTo trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n[Lord finesse]\nNiggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\nName it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\nWe straight, better see yaselfves\nWe seein' more chips than the?\nOn a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\nIced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\nRolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\nThrowing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\nSteady balling, why you stop the thing\nBlind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\nOn some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\nFloors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\nDon't sleep, me and my crew's deep\nWhether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\nSalute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\nFuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n[ Chorus ]","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Foundation\n artist: D.I.T.C.\n album: The Official Version\n duration_ms: 226820\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n Yo, yo, yo .\n\n Chorus: [diamond d]\n We love the foundation, time to lock shit\n Ladies look no more we got this\n D.i.t.c. spits the hot shit\n And while you busy poppin' shit we're poppin' cris\n Ain't no stoppin' this like,?\n See it's all laced out wearing rocks and shit\n On the set niggas start to cockglocking shit\n Hating when we come through ya metropolis\n\n [Dimaond d]\n I like the finer things in life, rings and bikes\n Expensive whips, first-class trips\n Seven days cruises, honey don't trip\n Excel class if ya heard room fit\n Platinum cars, givin' no credit to me\n Tiffany labs,?\n H-class minerals with no floors in it\n Be one two, with the windows all tinnit\n And i be all in it, for tommy hil' send it\n Everything is paid for, mami not rent it\n Two albums deep, it's all documented\n Y'all little monkeys gon' see in a minute\n Look, g-o-l-d in a minute\n 'Bout to double that, in the benz bubble black, hata!\n It's di-a-mond d on ya set\n Throwin' all g's and charge a jet\n\n [ O.c. ]\n I'm doin' time in the rap game\n Sorta like a beered up north all one and the same\n My slang keep comin' steady num in ya brain\n Like substers abusin' lies for cocaine\n I get ya open, my stuff be pokin'\n Two pulls a past for three niggaz smoking\n It's no joking when it comes to this\n On occasion i might pop a bottle of cris'\n With a wrist full of ice on the bracelet\n Trade rhymes in for cash, money i stash\n For the future, treat more wis' than peter luger\n For lyrical fitness i train with? luke luva?\n Incorporate lyrical bust with fist to custwit style for a million bucks\n For this i got love, not lust\n If i lay her down with no fear than it means i wanna fuck!\n\n [ Chorus ]\n\n [A.g.]\n My flow, be sicker than yours\n Hoes, bounce gimme some mo'\n Wanna rap with me? then gimme some dough\n Wanna track from me? then gimme some dough\n I sport those type of flows that excite the hoes\n That's my ice that roll and light the dro'\n Love is love, y'all niggas gettin' sheisht with yours\n Diamond beats hittin' harder than tyson blows\n I might explode, once i grab the mic and blow\n Claim you don't like the flow, when you want to bite the flow\n Pop bubbly, catch me in the club playin' bugsy\n Get dirty like?, it could get ugly\n I rock mines and cop top of the line cars\n Then charge you twentie-thou', only drop nine bars\n Slight the tight men, cop about nine jars\n To trig or tone come home while we rap when you behind bars\n\n [Lord finesse]\n Niggas is finito, when my and my peeps blow\n Name it the game, stack dough and keep blow, fo' sho\n We straight, better see yaselfves\n We seein' more chips than the?\n On a club night we hillin', watching the thugs fight\n Iced out, nigga shining like flug-lights\n Rolling with grimy niggas, dirty like mud-fights\n Throwing it up, while you sipping on bud-light\n Steady balling, why you stop the thing\n Blind you with rocks and links, make ya drop ya drink\n On some slick shit, dress-up dip shit\n Floors with rocks and stones you don't mind getting hit with\n Don't sleep, me and my crew's deep\n Whether in the air, on four wheels or two feet\n Salute the new chiefs and the feel we stay thirst\n Fuck freestylin; nowadays you pay first\n\n [ Chorus ]\n"}]