[{"id":21156724,"name":"50 Shot Ya","trackName":"50 Shot Ya","artistName":"50 Cent","albumName":"Dj Whoo Kid & DJ Kay Slay","duration":206.479813,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo\nWhat the fuck poppin', man?\nThis the Drama King, man\nYo who there, who dat, who there man?\n(Yeah, yeah, it's 50 Cent nigga)\n\nMuthafucka\n(What's up, man?)\nUh, Harlem to Queens muthafuckas\n(Heh, What's up, nigga?)\n\nAnd I'll smack the fuckin' shit out your favorite DJ man\nY'all know what the fuck it is, man\n(Yeah, yeah and, and say somethin ya bitch-ass nigga)\nYeah, street justice muthafucka\n(Yeah, go ahead, say something)\n\nYo, yo, check it out 50\nYou handle the bitch-ass rap niggas\nI'ma handle the bitch-ass DJ niggas\n(Alright, alright)\nWe gon' bring justice to the game\n(That's how we gon' put it down)\nStraight muthafuckas\n\nThat's the sound of the man, cockin' that thang, that thang\nThat's the sound of the man, clappin' that thang, thang\nYo, in my hood we was taught not to say who shot ya\nSee the flash, you heard the shot, you feel the burnin', I got ya\n\nSay a prayer for me if you care for me 'cause I'm on the edge\nI'm finna put a shell in a nigga head\nI rock a lot of ice, I dare you to scheme on it\nThe fifth got a rubber grip and a beam on it\n\nHomie that took the hit on me couldn't shoot this\nSay I'm skinny now, but I look big in the coupe-dee\nMy cuzin Uzi out in L.A. done tripped and do the sets again\nGot shot the fuck up tryin' to rob the wrong Mexicans\n\nI write my lifestyle, y'all niggas is cheaters\nYour lines come from feds, felons and don diva\nOh you the black hand of death\nThen why your name ain't preacher\n\nIf you a pimp like kid, why them hoes don't treat ya?\nIf you wanna ball like Kirk, now shorty let me teach ya\nThis flow's God sent, it's bound to reach ya\n\nProblem child, I'm familiar with problems\nI know how to solve 'em\nSemi-automatic, luger tray, revolve 'em\nShoot 'em up, rob 'em\nIn the hood we starvin', you don't want problems\nProblem child\n\nAnd why can't you be man enough\nTo tell me where you're comin' from?\n\nThey say you can never repay the price for takin' a man's life\nI'm in debt with Christ, I done did that twice\nI'm nice, y'all niggas can't hang wit fifty\nBlaaat, y'all niggas can't bang wit fifty\n\nSay I'm born to rhyme, there's a shell and a nine\nFace stone and the cross, there's a bitch I tossed\nSee the wounds in my skin they from a war of course\nYou can check CNN for the, \"War Report\"\n\nSee the drama got me ridin' with a sawed-off shottie\nCatch you at the light, I blow ya ass off the Ducati\nMan, niggas ain't gon' do me like Sammy did Gotti\nI do it myself, I don't need no help\n\nGive me a knife, I'll get rid of your neighborhood bully\nGive me a minute, I'll take a fuckin' car with a pully\nSee the hood is the deepest stole my innocence young\nNiggas jumped me 'cause they couldn't beat me one-on-one\n\nProblem child, I'm familiar with problems\nI know how to solve 'em\nSemi-automatic, luger tray, revolve 'em\nShoot 'em up, rob 'em\nIn the hood we starvin', you don't want problems\nProblem child\n\nAnd why can't you be man enough\nTo tell me where you're comin' from?\n\nI must've broke a mirror at three and had bad luck for seven\n'Cause pops slid, mommy died before I turned eleven\nThis cities split 'posed to let black cats cross your path\nThe footprints in the sand is Satan carryin' your ass\n\nI got, \"God, understand me\" tattooed in my skin\nWhen I die, come back, I'ma tattoo it again\nI'm the young buck that let the gun buck\nRoll the window down and say, \"'Sup up, niggas get ready to duck\"\n\nMy heart is a house homie, fear don't live here\nNigga believe me when I say I don't care\nMuslims mix a lot, God studied they lessons\nEven when my luck's hard I still count my blessings\n\nSee that look in my eye, ya betta keep on steppin'\nSpent time on my cell floor, to sharpen my weapon\nIf you pussy I'ma smell you when you come around here\nThem boys in Pelican Bay couldn't live in my tier\n\nProblem child, I'm familiar with problems\nI know how to solve 'em\nSemi-automatic, luger tray, revolve 'em\nShoot 'em up, rob 'em\nIn the hood we starvin', you don't want problems\nProblem child","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 50 Shot Ya\n  artist: 50 Cent\n  album: Dj Whoo Kid & DJ Kay Slay\n  duration_ms: 206480\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  What the fuck poppin', man?\n  This the Drama King, man\n  Yo who there, who dat, who there man?\n  (Yeah, yeah, it's 50 Cent nigga)\n\n  Muthafucka\n  (What's up, man?)\n  Uh, Harlem to Queens muthafuckas\n  (Heh, What's up, nigga?)\n\n  And I'll smack the fuckin' shit out your favorite DJ man\n  Y'all know what the fuck it is, man\n  (Yeah, yeah and, and say somethin ya bitch-ass nigga)\n  Yeah, street justice muthafucka\n  (Yeah, go ahead, say something)\n\n  Yo, yo, check it out 50\n  You handle the bitch-ass rap niggas\n  I'ma handle the bitch-ass DJ niggas\n  (Alright, alright)\n  We gon' bring justice to the game\n  (That's how we gon' put it down)\n  Straight muthafuckas\n\n  That's the sound of the man, cockin' that thang, that thang\n  That's the sound of the man, clappin' that thang, thang\n  Yo, in my hood we was taught not to say who shot ya\n  See the flash, you heard the shot, you feel the burnin', I got ya\n\n  Say a prayer for me if you care for me 'cause I'm on the edge\n  I'm finna put a shell in a nigga head\n  I rock a lot of ice, I dare you to scheme on it\n  The fifth got a rubber grip and a beam on it\n\n  Homie that took the hit on me couldn't shoot this\n  Say I'm skinny now, but I look big in the coupe-dee\n  My cuzin Uzi out in L.A. done tripped and do the sets again\n  Got shot the fuck up tryin' to rob the wrong Mexicans\n\n  I write my lifestyle, y'all niggas is cheaters\n  Your lines come from feds, felons and don diva\n  Oh you the black hand of death\n  Then why your name ain't preacher\n\n  If you a pimp like kid, why them hoes don't treat ya?\n  If you wanna ball like Kirk, now shorty let me teach ya\n  This flow's God sent, it's bound to reach ya\n\n  Problem child, I'm familiar with problems\n  I know how to solve 'em\n  Semi-automatic, luger tray, revolve 'em\n  Shoot 'em up, rob 'em\n  In the hood we starvin', you don't want problems\n  Problem child\n\n  And why can't you be man enough\n  To tell me where you're comin' from?\n\n  They say you can never repay the price for takin' a man's life\n  I'm in debt with Christ, I done did that twice\n  I'm nice, y'all niggas can't hang wit fifty\n  Blaaat, y'all niggas can't bang wit fifty\n\n  Say I'm born to rhyme, there's a shell and a nine\n  Face stone and the cross, there's a bitch I tossed\n  See the wounds in my skin they from a war of course\n  You can check CNN for the, \"War Report\"\n\n  See the drama got me ridin' with a sawed-off shottie\n  Catch you at the light, I blow ya ass off the Ducati\n  Man, niggas ain't gon' do me like Sammy did Gotti\n  I do it myself, I don't need no help\n\n  Give me a knife, I'll get rid of your neighborhood bully\n  Give me a minute, I'll take a fuckin' car with a pully\n  See the hood is the deepest stole my innocence young\n  Niggas jumped me 'cause they couldn't beat me one-on-one\n\n  Problem child, I'm familiar with problems\n  I know how to solve 'em\n  Semi-automatic, luger tray, revolve 'em\n  Shoot 'em up, rob 'em\n  In the hood we starvin', you don't want problems\n  Problem child\n\n  And why can't you be man enough\n  To tell me where you're comin' from?\n\n  I must've broke a mirror at three and had bad luck for seven\n  'Cause pops slid, mommy died before I turned eleven\n  This cities split 'posed to let black cats cross your path\n  The footprints in the sand is Satan carryin' your ass\n\n  I got, \"God, understand me\" tattooed in my skin\n  When I die, come back, I'ma tattoo it again\n  I'm the young buck that let the gun buck\n  Roll the window down and say, \"'Sup up, niggas get ready to duck\"\n\n  My heart is a house homie, fear don't live here\n  Nigga believe me when I say I don't care\n  Muslims mix a lot, God studied they lessons\n  Even when my luck's hard I still count my blessings\n\n  See that look in my eye, ya betta keep on steppin'\n  Spent time on my cell floor, to sharpen my weapon\n  If you pussy I'ma smell you when you come around here\n  Them boys in Pelican Bay couldn't live in my tier\n\n  Problem child, I'm familiar with problems\n  I know how to solve 'em\n  Semi-automatic, luger tray, revolve 'em\n  Shoot 'em up, rob 'em\n  In the hood we starvin', you don't want problems\n  Problem child\n"},{"id":16295472,"name":"50 Shot Ya","trackName":"50 Shot Ya","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1","duration":242.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo\nWhat the fuck poppin' man\nThis the Drama King man\nYo who there, who dat, who there man?\n(Yeah, yeah, it's 50 Cent nigga)\nMuthafucka (What's up man)\nUh, Harlem to Queens muthafuckas\n(Heh, What's up nigga)\nAnd I'll smack the fuckin' shit out your favorite DJ man\nY'all know what the fuck it is man (Yeah, yeah)\n(And, and say somethin ya bitch-ass nigga)\nYeah, street justice muthafucka\n(Yeah, go ahead, say something)\nYo, yo, check it out fifty\nYou handle the bitch-ass rap niggas\nI'mma handle the bitch-ass DJ niggas\n(Alright, alright)\nWe gon' bring justice to the game\n(That's how we gon' put it down)\nStraight muthafuckas\n\nThat's the sound of the man, cockin' that thang - that thaaaang\nThat's the sound of the man, clappin' that thang - thaaang\nYo, in my hood we was taught not to say who shot ya\nSee the flash, you heard the shot, you feel the burnin', I got ya\nSay a prayer for me if you care for me cuz I'm on the edge\nI'm finna put a shell in a nigga head\nI rock a lot of ice, I dare you to scheme on it\nThe fifth got a rubber grip and a beam on it\nHomie that took the hit on me couldn't shoot\nThey say I'm skinny now, but I look big in a coupe\nMy cousin Uzi out in L.A. done tripped and do the sets again\nGot shot the fuck up tryin' to rob the wrong Mexicans\nI write my lifestyle, y'all niggas is cheaters\nYour lines come from feds, felons and don diva\nOh you the black hand of death, then why your name ain't preacher\nIf you a pimp like Ken why them hoes don't treat ya?\nIf you wanna ball like Kirk, now shorty let me teach ya\nThis flow's God sent, it's bound to reach ya\n\nProblem child, I'm familiar with problems\nI know how to solve em\nSemi-automatic, luger tray, revolve em\nShoot em up, rob em\nIn the hood we starvin, you don't want problems\nProblem child\n\nAnd why can't you be man enough\nTo tell me where you're comin' from\n\nThey say you can never repay the price for takin' a man's life\nI'm in debt with Christ, I done did that twice\nI'm nice, y'all niggas can't hang wit fifty\n+Blaaat+, y'all niggas can't bang wit fifty\nFor every bar in the rhyme, there's a shell and a nine\nFor every stone in the cross, there's a bitch I tossed\nSee the wounds in my skin they from a war of course\nYou can check C-N-N for the \"War Report\"\nSee the drama got me ridin' with a sawed-off shottie\nCatch you at the light, I blow ya ass off the Ducati\nMan, niggas ain't gon' do me like Sammy did Gotti\nI'll do it myself, I don't need no help\nGive me a knife, I'll get rid of your neighborhood bully\nGive me a minute, I'll take a fuckin' car with a pully\nSee the hood is the deepest stole my innocence young\nNiggas jumped me cuz they couldn't beat me one-on-one\n\nI must've broke a mirror at three and had bad luck for seven\nCuz pops slid, mommy died before I turned eleven\nThis cities split 'posed to let black cats cross your path\nThe footprints in the sand is Satan carryin' your ass\nI got \"God Understand Me\" tattooed in my skin\nWhen I die, come back, I'mma tattoo it again\nI'm the young buck that let the gun buck\nRoll the window down and say: \"'Wassup\", niggas get ready to duck\nMy heart is a house homie, If you don't live here\nNigga believe me when I say I don't care\nMuslims mix a lot, God studied they lessons\nEven when my luck's hard I still count my blessings\nSee that look in my eye, ya betta keep on steppin'\nSpent time on my cell floor, to sharpen my weapon\nIf you pussy I'mma smell you when you come around here\nThem boys in Pelican Bay couldn't live in my tier","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 50 Shot Ya\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 242000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  What the fuck poppin' man\n  This the Drama King man\n  Yo who there, who dat, who there man?\n  (Yeah, yeah, it's 50 Cent nigga)\n  Muthafucka (What's up man)\n  Uh, Harlem to Queens muthafuckas\n  (Heh, What's up nigga)\n  And I'll smack the fuckin' shit out your favorite DJ man\n  Y'all know what the fuck it is man (Yeah, yeah)\n  (And, and say somethin ya bitch-ass nigga)\n  Yeah, street justice muthafucka\n  (Yeah, go ahead, say something)\n  Yo, yo, check it out fifty\n  You handle the bitch-ass rap niggas\n  I'mma handle the bitch-ass DJ niggas\n  (Alright, alright)\n  We gon' bring justice to the game\n  (That's how we gon' put it down)\n  Straight muthafuckas\n\n  That's the sound of the man, cockin' that thang - that thaaaang\n  That's the sound of the man, clappin' that thang - thaaang\n  Yo, in my hood we was taught not to say who shot ya\n  See the flash, you heard the shot, you feel the burnin', I got ya\n  Say a prayer for me if you care for me cuz I'm on the edge\n  I'm finna put a shell in a nigga head\n  I rock a lot of ice, I dare you to scheme on it\n  The fifth got a rubber grip and a beam on it\n  Homie that took the hit on me couldn't shoot\n  They say I'm skinny now, but I look big in a coupe\n  My cousin Uzi out in L.A. done tripped and do the sets again\n  Got shot the fuck up tryin' to rob the wrong Mexicans\n  I write my lifestyle, y'all niggas is cheaters\n  Your lines come from feds, felons and don diva\n  Oh you the black hand of death, then why your name ain't preacher\n  If you a pimp like Ken why them hoes don't treat ya?\n  If you wanna ball like Kirk, now shorty let me teach ya\n  This flow's God sent, it's bound to reach ya\n\n  Problem child, I'm familiar with problems\n  I know how to solve em\n  Semi-automatic, luger tray, revolve em\n  Shoot em up, rob em\n  In the hood we starvin, you don't want problems\n  Problem child\n\n  And why can't you be man enough\n  To tell me where you're comin' from\n\n  They say you can never repay the price for takin' a man's life\n  I'm in debt with Christ, I done did that twice\n  I'm nice, y'all niggas can't hang wit fifty\n  +Blaaat+, y'all niggas can't bang wit fifty\n  For every bar in the rhyme, there's a shell and a nine\n  For every stone in the cross, there's a bitch I tossed\n  See the wounds in my skin they from a war of course\n  You can check C-N-N for the \"War Report\"\n  See the drama got me ridin' with a sawed-off shottie\n  Catch you at the light, I blow ya ass off the Ducati\n  Man, niggas ain't gon' do me like Sammy did Gotti\n  I'll do it myself, I don't need no help\n  Give me a knife, I'll get rid of your neighborhood bully\n  Give me a minute, I'll take a fuckin' car with a pully\n  See the hood is the deepest stole my innocence young\n  Niggas jumped me cuz they couldn't beat me one-on-one\n\n  I must've broke a mirror at three and had bad luck for seven\n  Cuz pops slid, mommy died before I turned eleven\n  This cities split 'posed to let black cats cross your path\n  The footprints in the sand is Satan carryin' your ass\n  I got \"God Understand Me\" tattooed in my skin\n  When I die, come back, I'mma tattoo it again\n  I'm the young buck that let the gun buck\n  Roll the window down and say: \"'Wassup\", niggas get ready to duck\n  My heart is a house homie, If you don't live here\n  Nigga believe me when I say I don't care\n  Muslims mix a lot, God studied they lessons\n  Even when my luck's hard I still count my blessings\n  See that look in my eye, ya betta keep on steppin'\n  Spent time on my cell floor, to sharpen my weapon\n  If you pussy I'mma smell you when you come around here\n  Them boys in Pelican Bay couldn't live in my tier\n"},{"id":13962686,"name":"50 Shot Ya","trackName":"50 Shot Ya","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Volume 1","duration":242.369887,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo\nWhat the fuck poppin' man\nThis the Drama King man\nYo who there, who dat, who there man?\n(Yeah, yeah, it's 50 Cent nigga)\nMuthafucka (What's up man)\nUh, Harlem to Queens muthafuckas\n(Heh, What's up nigga)\nAnd I'll smack the fuckin' shit out your favorite DJ man\nY'all know what the fuck it is man (Yeah, yeah)\n(And, and say somethin ya bitch-ass nigga)\nYeah, street justice muthafucka\n(Yeah, go ahead, say something)\nYo, yo, check it out fifty\nYou handle the bitch-ass rap niggas\nI'mma handle the bitch-ass DJ niggas\n(Alright, alright)\nWe gon' bring justice to the game\n(That's how we gon' put it down)\nStraight muthafuckas\n\nThat's the sound of the man, cockin' that thang - that thaaaang\nThat's the sound of the man, clappin' that thang - thaaang\nYo, in my hood we was taught not to say who shot ya\nSee the flash, you heard the shot, you feel the burnin', I got ya\nSay a prayer for me if you care for me cuz I'm on the edge\nI'm finna put a shell in a nigga head\nI rock a lot of ice, I dare you to scheme on it\nThe fifth got a rubber grip and a beam on it\nHomie that took the hit on me couldn't shoot\nThey say I'm skinny now, but I look big in a coupe\nMy cousin Uzi out in L.A. done tripped and do the sets again\nGot shot the fuck up tryin' to rob the wrong Mexicans\nI write my lifestyle, y'all niggas is cheaters\nYour lines come from feds, felons and don diva\nOh you the black hand of death, then why your name ain't preacher\nIf you a pimp like Ken why them hoes don't treat ya?\nIf you wanna ball like Kirk, now shorty let me teach ya\nThis flow's God sent, it's bound to reach ya\n\nProblem child, I'm familiar with problems\nI know how to solve em\nSemi-automatic, luger tray, revolve em\nShoot em up, rob em\nIn the hood we starvin, you don't want problems\nProblem child\n\nAnd why can't you be man enough\nTo tell me where you're comin' from\n\nThey say you can never repay the price for takin' a man's life\nI'm in debt with Christ, I done did that twice\nI'm nice, y'all niggas can't hang wit fifty\n+Blaaat+, y'all niggas can't bang wit fifty\nFor every bar in the rhyme, there's a shell and a nine\nFor every stone in the cross, there's a bitch I tossed\nSee the wounds in my skin they from a war of course\nYou can check C-N-N for the \"War Report\"\nSee the drama got me ridin' with a sawed-off shottie\nCatch you at the light, I blow ya ass off the Ducati\nMan, niggas ain't gon' do me like Sammy did Gotti\nI'll do it myself, I don't need no help\nGive me a knife, I'll get rid of your neighborhood bully\nGive me a minute, I'll take a fuckin' car with a pully\nSee the hood is the deepest stole my innocence young\nNiggas jumped me cuz they couldn't beat me one-on-one\n\nI must've broke a mirror at three and had bad luck for seven\nCuz pops slid, mommy died before I turned eleven\nThis cities split 'posed to let black cats cross your path\nThe footprints in the sand is Satan carryin' your ass\nI got \"God Understand Me\" tattooed in my skin\nWhen I die, come back, I'mma tattoo it again\nI'm the young buck that let the gun buck\nRoll the window down and say: \"'Wassup\", niggas get ready to duck\nMy heart is a house homie, If you don't live here\nNigga believe me when I say I don't care\nMuslims mix a lot, God studied they lessons\nEven when my luck's hard I still count my blessings\nSee that look in my eye, ya betta keep on steppin'\nSpent time on my cell floor, to sharpen my weapon\nIf you pussy I'mma smell you when you come around here\nThem boys in Pelican Bay couldn't live in my tier","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 50 Shot Ya\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Volume 1\n  duration_ms: 242370\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  What the fuck poppin' man\n  This the Drama King man\n  Yo who there, who dat, who there man?\n  (Yeah, yeah, it's 50 Cent nigga)\n  Muthafucka (What's up man)\n  Uh, Harlem to Queens muthafuckas\n  (Heh, What's up nigga)\n  And I'll smack the fuckin' shit out your favorite DJ man\n  Y'all know what the fuck it is man (Yeah, yeah)\n  (And, and say somethin ya bitch-ass nigga)\n  Yeah, street justice muthafucka\n  (Yeah, go ahead, say something)\n  Yo, yo, check it out fifty\n  You handle the bitch-ass rap niggas\n  I'mma handle the bitch-ass DJ niggas\n  (Alright, alright)\n  We gon' bring justice to the game\n  (That's how we gon' put it down)\n  Straight muthafuckas\n\n  That's the sound of the man, cockin' that thang - that thaaaang\n  That's the sound of the man, clappin' that thang - thaaang\n  Yo, in my hood we was taught not to say who shot ya\n  See the flash, you heard the shot, you feel the burnin', I got ya\n  Say a prayer for me if you care for me cuz I'm on the edge\n  I'm finna put a shell in a nigga head\n  I rock a lot of ice, I dare you to scheme on it\n  The fifth got a rubber grip and a beam on it\n  Homie that took the hit on me couldn't shoot\n  They say I'm skinny now, but I look big in a coupe\n  My cousin Uzi out in L.A. done tripped and do the sets again\n  Got shot the fuck up tryin' to rob the wrong Mexicans\n  I write my lifestyle, y'all niggas is cheaters\n  Your lines come from feds, felons and don diva\n  Oh you the black hand of death, then why your name ain't preacher\n  If you a pimp like Ken why them hoes don't treat ya?\n  If you wanna ball like Kirk, now shorty let me teach ya\n  This flow's God sent, it's bound to reach ya\n\n  Problem child, I'm familiar with problems\n  I know how to solve em\n  Semi-automatic, luger tray, revolve em\n  Shoot em up, rob em\n  In the hood we starvin, you don't want problems\n  Problem child\n\n  And why can't you be man enough\n  To tell me where you're comin' from\n\n  They say you can never repay the price for takin' a man's life\n  I'm in debt with Christ, I done did that twice\n  I'm nice, y'all niggas can't hang wit fifty\n  +Blaaat+, y'all niggas can't bang wit fifty\n  For every bar in the rhyme, there's a shell and a nine\n  For every stone in the cross, there's a bitch I tossed\n  See the wounds in my skin they from a war of course\n  You can check C-N-N for the \"War Report\"\n  See the drama got me ridin' with a sawed-off shottie\n  Catch you at the light, I blow ya ass off the Ducati\n  Man, niggas ain't gon' do me like Sammy did Gotti\n  I'll do it myself, I don't need no help\n  Give me a knife, I'll get rid of your neighborhood bully\n  Give me a minute, I'll take a fuckin' car with a pully\n  See the hood is the deepest stole my innocence young\n  Niggas jumped me cuz they couldn't beat me one-on-one\n\n  I must've broke a mirror at three and had bad luck for seven\n  Cuz pops slid, mommy died before I turned eleven\n  This cities split 'posed to let black cats cross your path\n  The footprints in the sand is Satan carryin' your ass\n  I got \"God Understand Me\" tattooed in my skin\n  When I die, come back, I'mma tattoo it again\n  I'm the young buck that let the gun buck\n  Roll the window down and say: \"'Wassup\", niggas get ready to duck\n  My heart is a house homie, If you don't live here\n  Nigga believe me when I say I don't care\n  Muslims mix a lot, God studied they lessons\n  Even when my luck's hard I still count my blessings\n  See that look in my eye, ya betta keep on steppin'\n  Spent time on my cell floor, to sharpen my weapon\n  If you pussy I'mma smell you when you come around here\n  Them boys in Pelican Bay couldn't live in my tier\n"},{"id":16295471,"name":"50 Shot Ya","trackName":"50 Shot Ya","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay feat. 50 Cent","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1","duration":242.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, yo, yo\nWhat the fuck poppin' man\nThis the Drama King man\nYo who there, who dat, who there man?\n(Yeah, yeah, it's 50 Cent nigga)\nMuthafucka (What's up man)\nUh, Harlem to Queens muthafuckas\n(Heh, What's up nigga)\nAnd I'll smack the fuckin' shit out your favorite DJ man\nY'all know what the fuck it is man (Yeah, yeah)\n(And, and say somethin ya bitch-ass nigga)\nYeah, street justice muthafucka\n(Yeah, go ahead, say something)\nYo, yo, check it out fifty\nYou handle the bitch-ass rap niggas\nI'mma handle the bitch-ass DJ niggas\n(Alright, alright)\nWe gon' bring justice to the game\n(That's how we gon' put it down)\nStraight muthafuckas\n\nThat's the sound of the man, cockin' that thang - that thaaaang\nThat's the sound of the man, clappin' that thang - thaaang\nYo, in my hood we was taught not to say who shot ya\nSee the flash, you heard the shot, you feel the burnin', I got ya\nSay a prayer for me if you care for me cuz I'm on the edge\nI'm finna put a shell in a nigga head\nI rock a lot of ice, I dare you to scheme on it\nThe fifth got a rubber grip and a beam on it\nHomie that took the hit on me couldn't shoot\nThey say I'm skinny now, but I look big in a coupe\nMy cousin Uzi out in L.A. done tripped and do the sets again\nGot shot the fuck up tryin' to rob the wrong Mexicans\nI write my lifestyle, y'all niggas is cheaters\nYour lines come from feds, felons and don diva\nOh you the black hand of death, then why your name ain't preacher\nIf you a pimp like Ken why them hoes don't treat ya?\nIf you wanna ball like Kirk, now shorty let me teach ya\nThis flow's God sent, it's bound to reach ya\n\nProblem child, I'm familiar with problems\nI know how to solve em\nSemi-automatic, luger tray, revolve em\nShoot em up, rob em\nIn the hood we starvin, you don't want problems\nProblem child\n\nAnd why can't you be man enough\nTo tell me where you're comin' from\n\nThey say you can never repay the price for takin' a man's life\nI'm in debt with Christ, I done did that twice\nI'm nice, y'all niggas can't hang wit fifty\n+Blaaat+, y'all niggas can't bang wit fifty\nFor every bar in the rhyme, there's a shell and a nine\nFor every stone in the cross, there's a bitch I tossed\nSee the wounds in my skin they from a war of course\nYou can check C-N-N for the \"War Report\"\nSee the drama got me ridin' with a sawed-off shottie\nCatch you at the light, I blow ya ass off the Ducati\nMan, niggas ain't gon' do me like Sammy did Gotti\nI'll do it myself, I don't need no help\nGive me a knife, I'll get rid of your neighborhood bully\nGive me a minute, I'll take a fuckin' car with a pully\nSee the hood is the deepest stole my innocence young\nNiggas jumped me cuz they couldn't beat me one-on-one\n\nI must've broke a mirror at three and had bad luck for seven\nCuz pops slid, mommy died before I turned eleven\nThis cities split 'posed to let black cats cross your path\nThe footprints in the sand is Satan carryin' your ass\nI got \"God Understand Me\" tattooed in my skin\nWhen I die, come back, I'mma tattoo it again\nI'm the young buck that let the gun buck\nRoll the window down and say: \"'Wassup\", niggas get ready to duck\nMy heart is a house homie, If you don't live here\nNigga believe me when I say I don't care\nMuslims mix a lot, God studied they lessons\nEven when my luck's hard I still count my blessings\nSee that look in my eye, ya betta keep on steppin'\nSpent time on my cell floor, to sharpen my weapon\nIf you pussy I'mma smell you when you come around here\nThem boys in Pelican Bay couldn't live in my tier","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 50 Shot Ya\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay feat. 50 Cent\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 242000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, yo, yo\n  What the fuck poppin' man\n  This the Drama King man\n  Yo who there, who dat, who there man?\n  (Yeah, yeah, it's 50 Cent nigga)\n  Muthafucka (What's up man)\n  Uh, Harlem to Queens muthafuckas\n  (Heh, What's up nigga)\n  And I'll smack the fuckin' shit out your favorite DJ man\n  Y'all know what the fuck it is man (Yeah, yeah)\n  (And, and say somethin ya bitch-ass nigga)\n  Yeah, street justice muthafucka\n  (Yeah, go ahead, say something)\n  Yo, yo, check it out fifty\n  You handle the bitch-ass rap niggas\n  I'mma handle the bitch-ass DJ niggas\n  (Alright, alright)\n  We gon' bring justice to the game\n  (That's how we gon' put it down)\n  Straight muthafuckas\n\n  That's the sound of the man, cockin' that thang - that thaaaang\n  That's the sound of the man, clappin' that thang - thaaang\n  Yo, in my hood we was taught not to say who shot ya\n  See the flash, you heard the shot, you feel the burnin', I got ya\n  Say a prayer for me if you care for me cuz I'm on the edge\n  I'm finna put a shell in a nigga head\n  I rock a lot of ice, I dare you to scheme on it\n  The fifth got a rubber grip and a beam on it\n  Homie that took the hit on me couldn't shoot\n  They say I'm skinny now, but I look big in a coupe\n  My cousin Uzi out in L.A. done tripped and do the sets again\n  Got shot the fuck up tryin' to rob the wrong Mexicans\n  I write my lifestyle, y'all niggas is cheaters\n  Your lines come from feds, felons and don diva\n  Oh you the black hand of death, then why your name ain't preacher\n  If you a pimp like Ken why them hoes don't treat ya?\n  If you wanna ball like Kirk, now shorty let me teach ya\n  This flow's God sent, it's bound to reach ya\n\n  Problem child, I'm familiar with problems\n  I know how to solve em\n  Semi-automatic, luger tray, revolve em\n  Shoot em up, rob em\n  In the hood we starvin, you don't want problems\n  Problem child\n\n  And why can't you be man enough\n  To tell me where you're comin' from\n\n  They say you can never repay the price for takin' a man's life\n  I'm in debt with Christ, I done did that twice\n  I'm nice, y'all niggas can't hang wit fifty\n  +Blaaat+, y'all niggas can't bang wit fifty\n  For every bar in the rhyme, there's a shell and a nine\n  For every stone in the cross, there's a bitch I tossed\n  See the wounds in my skin they from a war of course\n  You can check C-N-N for the \"War Report\"\n  See the drama got me ridin' with a sawed-off shottie\n  Catch you at the light, I blow ya ass off the Ducati\n  Man, niggas ain't gon' do me like Sammy did Gotti\n  I'll do it myself, I don't need no help\n  Give me a knife, I'll get rid of your neighborhood bully\n  Give me a minute, I'll take a fuckin' car with a pully\n  See the hood is the deepest stole my innocence young\n  Niggas jumped me cuz they couldn't beat me one-on-one\n\n  I must've broke a mirror at three and had bad luck for seven\n  Cuz pops slid, mommy died before I turned eleven\n  This cities split 'posed to let black cats cross your path\n  The footprints in the sand is Satan carryin' your ass\n  I got \"God Understand Me\" tattooed in my skin\n  When I die, come back, I'mma tattoo it again\n  I'm the young buck that let the gun buck\n  Roll the window down and say: \"'Wassup\", niggas get ready to duck\n  My heart is a house homie, If you don't live here\n  Nigga believe me when I say I don't care\n  Muslims mix a lot, God studied they lessons\n  Even when my luck's hard I still count my blessings\n  See that look in my eye, ya betta keep on steppin'\n  Spent time on my cell floor, to sharpen my weapon\n  If you pussy I'mma smell you when you come around here\n  Them boys in Pelican Bay couldn't live in my tier\n"}]