[{"id":13961892,"name":"The Streetsweeper","trackName":"The Streetsweeper","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Volume 1","duration":231.410068,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"feat. The Lox)\n[Verse 1 - Styles P\n] (Sheek Louch)\nWhen there's beef I'ma ride and won't slide 'til I'm debtin you\n(P swallow your pride), my pride ain't edible\nFuck with my life, I'm stressin your death\nCut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck\nYou wanna gun who (*laughing*), what?\nShit it's the ghost and my style's like the art of Water Block Sun Soo\nIt's the ghetto godfather, priest in the hood\nCross the line that's your spine, I'm the beast in the hood\nDon't consider that I rap, just consider I'm strapped\nAnd I squeeze at your brain, face, rib and your back\nDog we can keep it brief get straight to the beef\nI'm so deep they see the pain in my eyes when I'm sleep\nI made a vow to the streets at a very young age\nThat I would always use my knife and I would let my gun blaze\nGot niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me\nBust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me\nMy niggaz is real they all'll see the judge with me\nNobody in rap, cause all my niggaz thug with me (nigga)\n[Chorus - Sheek Louch\n] + (Jadakiss)\nWe gon' keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\nBustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\nBringin the storm (changin the norm)\nNiggaz is ass (let's get it on)\nWalk with me (I)\nKeep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\nBustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\nBringin the storm (changin the norm)\nNiggaz is ass (let's get it on)\nWalk with me (I)\n[Verse 2 - Sheek Louch\n] (Styles P)\nWe chase niggaz through malls\nClap niggaz through walls\nY'all want it with them D-Block boys\nPut the brown things up in you like Chips Ahoys\nListen I'ma thug and I'm proud\nY'all niggaz \"Fashionably Loud\"\nI don't give a fuck what kind of shirt that is\nI'll put the barrel to your kids and your wiz\nWatch them float, fish takin bites of they skin\nLittle holes in they chin\nYou in the mirror tryna see if they spin\nNiggaz is ass, tell a nigga drop the top and stop\nRoll the windows down, get rid of the cop\nI'm in the hood like boots on niggaz cars\nGats on niggaz waist, you couldn't even tell that we stars\nBreak down food, pizza, whatever it be\nI love my niggaz and they love me (get off our dick)\nWhat? you ain't gettin the point I think I'll give it to you\nRight in your waist and hand your fuckin liver to you, yeah\n[Verse 3 - Jadakiss\n] (Sheek Louch)\nUh, uh, uh, uh, hey yo this is why I claim no slums (why?)\nCause I could sit back,\nknock off a half a brick, and chew Rainblow Gums\nAnd the color of the Benz will kill ya, it's gold\nWhen it's movin fast it look like silver, I'm low\nWith the trey pound next to my nuts\nA shotgun ridin shotgun on the seat next to my dutch\nI swear for God the Mag'll bust\nNiggaz know 'Kiss flow been crazy like a bag of dust\nY'all industry-tuitionalized\nMy niggaz is real, real niggaz see the truth and the lies\nAimin for your head (but really tryna shoot out your eyes)\nWith every Tef, then stomp out whatever is left\nAnd sometimes I say shit that I shouldn't\nBut I never said that I couldn't\nTurn your chest plate into pudding\nAnd all my niggaz'll spray\nExcept women,\nso the reason y'all living, cause y'all niggaz is gay, uh","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Streetsweeper\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Volume 1\n  duration_ms: 231410\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  feat. The Lox)\n  [Verse 1 - Styles P\n  ] (Sheek Louch)\n  When there's beef I'ma ride and won't slide 'til I'm debtin you\n  (P swallow your pride), my pride ain't edible\n  Fuck with my life, I'm stressin your death\n  Cut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck\n  You wanna gun who (*laughing*), what?\n  Shit it's the ghost and my style's like the art of Water Block Sun Soo\n  It's the ghetto godfather, priest in the hood\n  Cross the line that's your spine, I'm the beast in the hood\n  Don't consider that I rap, just consider I'm strapped\n  And I squeeze at your brain, face, rib and your back\n  Dog we can keep it brief get straight to the beef\n  I'm so deep they see the pain in my eyes when I'm sleep\n  I made a vow to the streets at a very young age\n  That I would always use my knife and I would let my gun blaze\n  Got niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me\n  Bust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me\n  My niggaz is real they all'll see the judge with me\n  Nobody in rap, cause all my niggaz thug with me (nigga)\n  [Chorus - Sheek Louch\n  ] + (Jadakiss)\n  We gon' keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\n  Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\n  Bringin the storm (changin the norm)\n  Niggaz is ass (let's get it on)\n  Walk with me (I)\n  Keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\n  Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\n  Bringin the storm (changin the norm)\n  Niggaz is ass (let's get it on)\n  Walk with me (I)\n  [Verse 2 - Sheek Louch\n  ] (Styles P)\n  We chase niggaz through malls\n  Clap niggaz through walls\n  Y'all want it with them D-Block boys\n  Put the brown things up in you like Chips Ahoys\n  Listen I'ma thug and I'm proud\n  Y'all niggaz \"Fashionably Loud\"\n  I don't give a fuck what kind of shirt that is\n  I'll put the barrel to your kids and your wiz\n  Watch them float, fish takin bites of they skin\n  Little holes in they chin\n  You in the mirror tryna see if they spin\n  Niggaz is ass, tell a nigga drop the top and stop\n  Roll the windows down, get rid of the cop\n  I'm in the hood like boots on niggaz cars\n  Gats on niggaz waist, you couldn't even tell that we stars\n  Break down food, pizza, whatever it be\n  I love my niggaz and they love me (get off our dick)\n  What? you ain't gettin the point I think I'll give it to you\n  Right in your waist and hand your fuckin liver to you, yeah\n  [Verse 3 - Jadakiss\n  ] (Sheek Louch)\n  Uh, uh, uh, uh, hey yo this is why I claim no slums (why?)\n  Cause I could sit back,\n  knock off a half a brick, and chew Rainblow Gums\n  And the color of the Benz will kill ya, it's gold\n  When it's movin fast it look like silver, I'm low\n  With the trey pound next to my nuts\n  A shotgun ridin shotgun on the seat next to my dutch\n  I swear for God the Mag'll bust\n  Niggaz know 'Kiss flow been crazy like a bag of dust\n  Y'all industry-tuitionalized\n  My niggaz is real, real niggaz see the truth and the lies\n  Aimin for your head (but really tryna shoot out your eyes)\n  With every Tef, then stomp out whatever is left\n  And sometimes I say shit that I shouldn't\n  But I never said that I couldn't\n  Turn your chest plate into pudding\n  And all my niggaz'll spray\n  Except women,\n  so the reason y'all living, cause y'all niggaz is gay, uh\n"},{"id":39317119,"name":"The Streetsweeper","trackName":"The Streetsweeper","artistName":"The L.O.X.","albumName":"DJ Kay Slay-The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1","duration":231.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"feat. The Lox)\n[Verse 1 - Styles P\n] (Sheek Louch)\nWhen there's beef I'ma ride and won't slide 'til I'm debtin you\n(P swallow your pride), my pride ain't edible\nFuck with my life, I'm stressin your death\nCut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck\nYou wanna gun who (*laughing*), what?\nShit it's the ghost and my style's like the art of Water Block Sun Soo\nIt's the ghetto godfather, priest in the hood\nCross the line that's your spine, I'm the beast in the hood\nDon't consider that I rap, just consider I'm strapped\nAnd I squeeze at your brain, face, rib and your back\nDog we can keep it brief get straight to the beef\nI'm so deep they see the pain in my eyes when I'm sleep\nI made a vow to the streets at a very young age\nThat I would always use my knife and I would let my gun blaze\nGot niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me\nBust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me\nMy niggaz is real they all'll see the judge with me\nNobody in rap, cause all my niggaz thug with me (nigga)\n[Chorus - Sheek Louch\n] + (Jadakiss)\nWe gon' keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\nBustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\nBringin the storm (changin the norm)\nNiggaz is ass (let's get it on)\nWalk with me (I)\nKeep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\nBustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\nBringin the storm (changin the norm)\nNiggaz is ass (let's get it on)\nWalk with me (I)\n[Verse 2 - Sheek Louch\n] (Styles P)\nWe chase niggaz through malls\nClap niggaz through walls\nY'all want it with them D-Block boys\nPut the brown things up in you like Chips Ahoys\nListen I'ma thug and I'm proud\nY'all niggaz \"Fashionably Loud\"\nI don't give a fuck what kind of shirt that is\nI'll put the barrel to your kids and your wiz\nWatch them float, fish takin bites of they skin\nLittle holes in they chin\nYou in the mirror tryna see if they spin\nNiggaz is ass, tell a nigga drop the top and stop\nRoll the windows down, get rid of the cop\nI'm in the hood like boots on niggaz cars\nGats on niggaz waist, you couldn't even tell that we stars\nBreak down food, pizza, whatever it be\nI love my niggaz and they love me (get off our dick)\nWhat? you ain't gettin the point I think I'll give it to you\nRight in your waist and hand your fuckin liver to you, yeah\n[Verse 3 - Jadakiss\n] (Sheek Louch)\nUh, uh, uh, uh, hey yo this is why I claim no slums (why?)\nCause I could sit back,\nknock off a half a brick, and chew Rainblow Gums\nAnd the color of the Benz will kill ya, it's gold\nWhen it's movin fast it look like silver, I'm low\nWith the trey pound next to my nuts\nA shotgun ridin shotgun on the seat next to my dutch\nI swear for God the Mag'll bust\nNiggaz know 'Kiss flow been crazy like a bag of dust\nY'all industry-tuitionalized\nMy niggaz is real, real niggaz see the truth and the lies\nAimin for your head (but really tryna shoot out your eyes)\nWith every Tef, then stomp out whatever is left\nAnd sometimes I say shit that I shouldn't\nBut I never said that I couldn't\nTurn your chest plate into pudding\nAnd all my niggaz'll spray\nExcept women,\nso the reason y'all living, cause y'all niggaz is gay, uh","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Streetsweeper\n  artist: The L.O.X.\n  album: DJ Kay Slay-The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 231399\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  feat. The Lox)\n  [Verse 1 - Styles P\n  ] (Sheek Louch)\n  When there's beef I'ma ride and won't slide 'til I'm debtin you\n  (P swallow your pride), my pride ain't edible\n  Fuck with my life, I'm stressin your death\n  Cut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck\n  You wanna gun who (*laughing*), what?\n  Shit it's the ghost and my style's like the art of Water Block Sun Soo\n  It's the ghetto godfather, priest in the hood\n  Cross the line that's your spine, I'm the beast in the hood\n  Don't consider that I rap, just consider I'm strapped\n  And I squeeze at your brain, face, rib and your back\n  Dog we can keep it brief get straight to the beef\n  I'm so deep they see the pain in my eyes when I'm sleep\n  I made a vow to the streets at a very young age\n  That I would always use my knife and I would let my gun blaze\n  Got niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me\n  Bust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me\n  My niggaz is real they all'll see the judge with me\n  Nobody in rap, cause all my niggaz thug with me (nigga)\n  [Chorus - Sheek Louch\n  ] + (Jadakiss)\n  We gon' keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\n  Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\n  Bringin the storm (changin the norm)\n  Niggaz is ass (let's get it on)\n  Walk with me (I)\n  Keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\n  Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\n  Bringin the storm (changin the norm)\n  Niggaz is ass (let's get it on)\n  Walk with me (I)\n  [Verse 2 - Sheek Louch\n  ] (Styles P)\n  We chase niggaz through malls\n  Clap niggaz through walls\n  Y'all want it with them D-Block boys\n  Put the brown things up in you like Chips Ahoys\n  Listen I'ma thug and I'm proud\n  Y'all niggaz \"Fashionably Loud\"\n  I don't give a fuck what kind of shirt that is\n  I'll put the barrel to your kids and your wiz\n  Watch them float, fish takin bites of they skin\n  Little holes in they chin\n  You in the mirror tryna see if they spin\n  Niggaz is ass, tell a nigga drop the top and stop\n  Roll the windows down, get rid of the cop\n  I'm in the hood like boots on niggaz cars\n  Gats on niggaz waist, you couldn't even tell that we stars\n  Break down food, pizza, whatever it be\n  I love my niggaz and they love me (get off our dick)\n  What? you ain't gettin the point I think I'll give it to you\n  Right in your waist and hand your fuckin liver to you, yeah\n  [Verse 3 - Jadakiss\n  ] (Sheek Louch)\n  Uh, uh, uh, uh, hey yo this is why I claim no slums (why?)\n  Cause I could sit back,\n  knock off a half a brick, and chew Rainblow Gums\n  And the color of the Benz will kill ya, it's gold\n  When it's movin fast it look like silver, I'm low\n  With the trey pound next to my nuts\n  A shotgun ridin shotgun on the seat next to my dutch\n  I swear for God the Mag'll bust\n  Niggaz know 'Kiss flow been crazy like a bag of dust\n  Y'all industry-tuitionalized\n  My niggaz is real, real niggaz see the truth and the lies\n  Aimin for your head (but really tryna shoot out your eyes)\n  With every Tef, then stomp out whatever is left\n  And sometimes I say shit that I shouldn't\n  But I never said that I couldn't\n  Turn your chest plate into pudding\n  And all my niggaz'll spray\n  Except women,\n  so the reason y'all living, cause y'all niggaz is gay, uh\n"},{"id":12925667,"name":"The Streetsweeper (feat. The Lox)","trackName":"The Streetsweeper (feat. The Lox)","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper Vol. 1","duration":231.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"feat. The Lox)\n[Verse 1 - Styles P\n] (Sheek Louch)\nWhen there's beef I'ma ride and won't slide 'til I'm debtin you\n(P swallow your pride), my pride ain't edible\nFuck with my life, I'm stressin your death\nCut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck\nYou wanna gun who (*laughing*), what?\nShit it's the ghost and my style's like the art of Water Block Sun Soo\nIt's the ghetto godfather, priest in the hood\nCross the line that's your spine, I'm the beast in the hood\nDon't consider that I rap, just consider I'm strapped\nAnd I squeeze at your brain, face, rib and your back\nDog we can keep it brief get straight to the beef\nI'm so deep they see the pain in my eyes when I'm sleep\nI made a vow to the streets at a very young age\nThat I would always use my knife and I would let my gun blaze\nGot niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me\nBust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me\nMy niggaz is real they all'll see the judge with me\nNobody in rap, cause all my niggaz thug with me (nigga)\n[Chorus - Sheek Louch\n] + (Jadakiss)\nWe gon' keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\nBustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\nBringin the storm (changin the norm)\nNiggaz is ass (let's get it on)\nWalk with me (I)\nKeep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\nBustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\nBringin the storm (changin the norm)\nNiggaz is ass (let's get it on)\nWalk with me (I)\n[Verse 2 - Sheek Louch\n] (Styles P)\nWe chase niggaz through malls\nClap niggaz through walls\nY'all want it with them D-Block boys\nPut the brown things up in you like Chips Ahoys\nListen I'ma thug and I'm proud\nY'all niggaz \"Fashionably Loud\"\nI don't give a fuck what kind of shirt that is\nI'll put the barrel to your kids and your wiz\nWatch them float, fish takin bites of they skin\nLittle holes in they chin\nYou in the mirror tryna see if they spin\nNiggaz is ass, tell a nigga drop the top and stop\nRoll the windows down, get rid of the cop\nI'm in the hood like boots on niggaz cars\nGats on niggaz waist, you couldn't even tell that we stars\nBreak down food, pizza, whatever it be\nI love my niggaz and they love me (get off our dick)\nWhat? you ain't gettin the point I think I'll give it to you\nRight in your waist and hand your fuckin liver to you, yeah\n[Verse 3 - Jadakiss\n] (Sheek Louch)\nUh, uh, uh, uh, hey yo this is why I claim no slums (why?)\nCause I could sit back,\nknock off a half a brick, and chew Rainblow Gums\nAnd the color of the Benz will kill ya, it's gold\nWhen it's movin fast it look like silver, I'm low\nWith the trey pound next to my nuts\nA shotgun ridin shotgun on the seat next to my dutch\nI swear for God the Mag'll bust\nNiggaz know 'Kiss flow been crazy like a bag of dust\nY'all industry-tuitionalized\nMy niggaz is real, real niggaz see the truth and the lies\nAimin for your head (but really tryna shoot out your eyes)\nWith every Tef, then stomp out whatever is left\nAnd sometimes I say shit that I shouldn't\nBut I never said that I couldn't\nTurn your chest plate into pudding\nAnd all my niggaz'll spray\nExcept women,\nso the reason y'all living, cause y'all niggaz is gay, uh","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Streetsweeper (feat. The Lox)\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 231000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  feat. The Lox)\n  [Verse 1 - Styles P\n  ] (Sheek Louch)\n  When there's beef I'ma ride and won't slide 'til I'm debtin you\n  (P swallow your pride), my pride ain't edible\n  Fuck with my life, I'm stressin your death\n  Cut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck\n  You wanna gun who (*laughing*), what?\n  Shit it's the ghost and my style's like the art of Water Block Sun Soo\n  It's the ghetto godfather, priest in the hood\n  Cross the line that's your spine, I'm the beast in the hood\n  Don't consider that I rap, just consider I'm strapped\n  And I squeeze at your brain, face, rib and your back\n  Dog we can keep it brief get straight to the beef\n  I'm so deep they see the pain in my eyes when I'm sleep\n  I made a vow to the streets at a very young age\n  That I would always use my knife and I would let my gun blaze\n  Got niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me\n  Bust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me\n  My niggaz is real they all'll see the judge with me\n  Nobody in rap, cause all my niggaz thug with me (nigga)\n  [Chorus - Sheek Louch\n  ] + (Jadakiss)\n  We gon' keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\n  Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\n  Bringin the storm (changin the norm)\n  Niggaz is ass (let's get it on)\n  Walk with me (I)\n  Keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\n  Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\n  Bringin the storm (changin the norm)\n  Niggaz is ass (let's get it on)\n  Walk with me (I)\n  [Verse 2 - Sheek Louch\n  ] (Styles P)\n  We chase niggaz through malls\n  Clap niggaz through walls\n  Y'all want it with them D-Block boys\n  Put the brown things up in you like Chips Ahoys\n  Listen I'ma thug and I'm proud\n  Y'all niggaz \"Fashionably Loud\"\n  I don't give a fuck what kind of shirt that is\n  I'll put the barrel to your kids and your wiz\n  Watch them float, fish takin bites of they skin\n  Little holes in they chin\n  You in the mirror tryna see if they spin\n  Niggaz is ass, tell a nigga drop the top and stop\n  Roll the windows down, get rid of the cop\n  I'm in the hood like boots on niggaz cars\n  Gats on niggaz waist, you couldn't even tell that we stars\n  Break down food, pizza, whatever it be\n  I love my niggaz and they love me (get off our dick)\n  What? you ain't gettin the point I think I'll give it to you\n  Right in your waist and hand your fuckin liver to you, yeah\n  [Verse 3 - Jadakiss\n  ] (Sheek Louch)\n  Uh, uh, uh, uh, hey yo this is why I claim no slums (why?)\n  Cause I could sit back,\n  knock off a half a brick, and chew Rainblow Gums\n  And the color of the Benz will kill ya, it's gold\n  When it's movin fast it look like silver, I'm low\n  With the trey pound next to my nuts\n  A shotgun ridin shotgun on the seat next to my dutch\n  I swear for God the Mag'll bust\n  Niggaz know 'Kiss flow been crazy like a bag of dust\n  Y'all industry-tuitionalized\n  My niggaz is real, real niggaz see the truth and the lies\n  Aimin for your head (but really tryna shoot out your eyes)\n  With every Tef, then stomp out whatever is left\n  And sometimes I say shit that I shouldn't\n  But I never said that I couldn't\n  Turn your chest plate into pudding\n  And all my niggaz'll spray\n  Except women,\n  so the reason y'all living, cause y'all niggaz is gay, uh\n"},{"id":16577633,"name":"The Streetsweeper","trackName":"The Streetsweeper","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay feat. The LOX","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1","duration":231.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"feat. The Lox)\n[Verse 1 - Styles P\n] (Sheek Louch)\nWhen there's beef I'ma ride and won't slide 'til I'm debtin you\n(P swallow your pride), my pride ain't edible\nFuck with my life, I'm stressin your death\nCut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck\nYou wanna gun who (*laughing*), what?\nShit it's the ghost and my style's like the art of Water Block Sun Soo\nIt's the ghetto godfather, priest in the hood\nCross the line that's your spine, I'm the beast in the hood\nDon't consider that I rap, just consider I'm strapped\nAnd I squeeze at your brain, face, rib and your back\nDog we can keep it brief get straight to the beef\nI'm so deep they see the pain in my eyes when I'm sleep\nI made a vow to the streets at a very young age\nThat I would always use my knife and I would let my gun blaze\nGot niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me\nBust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me\nMy niggaz is real they all'll see the judge with me\nNobody in rap, cause all my niggaz thug with me (nigga)\n[Chorus - Sheek Louch\n] + (Jadakiss)\nWe gon' keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\nBustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\nBringin the storm (changin the norm)\nNiggaz is ass (let's get it on)\nWalk with me (I)\nKeep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\nBustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\nBringin the storm (changin the norm)\nNiggaz is ass (let's get it on)\nWalk with me (I)\n[Verse 2 - Sheek Louch\n] (Styles P)\nWe chase niggaz through malls\nClap niggaz through walls\nY'all want it with them D-Block boys\nPut the brown things up in you like Chips Ahoys\nListen I'ma thug and I'm proud\nY'all niggaz \"Fashionably Loud\"\nI don't give a fuck what kind of shirt that is\nI'll put the barrel to your kids and your wiz\nWatch them float, fish takin bites of they skin\nLittle holes in they chin\nYou in the mirror tryna see if they spin\nNiggaz is ass, tell a nigga drop the top and stop\nRoll the windows down, get rid of the cop\nI'm in the hood like boots on niggaz cars\nGats on niggaz waist, you couldn't even tell that we stars\nBreak down food, pizza, whatever it be\nI love my niggaz and they love me (get off our dick)\nWhat? you ain't gettin the point I think I'll give it to you\nRight in your waist and hand your fuckin liver to you, yeah\n[Verse 3 - Jadakiss\n] (Sheek Louch)\nUh, uh, uh, uh, hey yo this is why I claim no slums (why?)\nCause I could sit back,\nknock off a half a brick, and chew Rainblow Gums\nAnd the color of the Benz will kill ya, it's gold\nWhen it's movin fast it look like silver, I'm low\nWith the trey pound next to my nuts\nA shotgun ridin shotgun on the seat next to my dutch\nI swear for God the Mag'll bust\nNiggaz know 'Kiss flow been crazy like a bag of dust\nY'all industry-tuitionalized\nMy niggaz is real, real niggaz see the truth and the lies\nAimin for your head (but really tryna shoot out your eyes)\nWith every Tef, then stomp out whatever is left\nAnd sometimes I say shit that I shouldn't\nBut I never said that I couldn't\nTurn your chest plate into pudding\nAnd all my niggaz'll spray\nExcept women,\nso the reason y'all living, cause y'all niggaz is gay, uh","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Streetsweeper\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay feat. The LOX\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 231000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  feat. The Lox)\n  [Verse 1 - Styles P\n  ] (Sheek Louch)\n  When there's beef I'ma ride and won't slide 'til I'm debtin you\n  (P swallow your pride), my pride ain't edible\n  Fuck with my life, I'm stressin your death\n  Cut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck\n  You wanna gun who (*laughing*), what?\n  Shit it's the ghost and my style's like the art of Water Block Sun Soo\n  It's the ghetto godfather, priest in the hood\n  Cross the line that's your spine, I'm the beast in the hood\n  Don't consider that I rap, just consider I'm strapped\n  And I squeeze at your brain, face, rib and your back\n  Dog we can keep it brief get straight to the beef\n  I'm so deep they see the pain in my eyes when I'm sleep\n  I made a vow to the streets at a very young age\n  That I would always use my knife and I would let my gun blaze\n  Got niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me\n  Bust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me\n  My niggaz is real they all'll see the judge with me\n  Nobody in rap, cause all my niggaz thug with me (nigga)\n  [Chorus - Sheek Louch\n  ] + (Jadakiss)\n  We gon' keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\n  Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\n  Bringin the storm (changin the norm)\n  Niggaz is ass (let's get it on)\n  Walk with me (I)\n  Keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\n  Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\n  Bringin the storm (changin the norm)\n  Niggaz is ass (let's get it on)\n  Walk with me (I)\n  [Verse 2 - Sheek Louch\n  ] (Styles P)\n  We chase niggaz through malls\n  Clap niggaz through walls\n  Y'all want it with them D-Block boys\n  Put the brown things up in you like Chips Ahoys\n  Listen I'ma thug and I'm proud\n  Y'all niggaz \"Fashionably Loud\"\n  I don't give a fuck what kind of shirt that is\n  I'll put the barrel to your kids and your wiz\n  Watch them float, fish takin bites of they skin\n  Little holes in they chin\n  You in the mirror tryna see if they spin\n  Niggaz is ass, tell a nigga drop the top and stop\n  Roll the windows down, get rid of the cop\n  I'm in the hood like boots on niggaz cars\n  Gats on niggaz waist, you couldn't even tell that we stars\n  Break down food, pizza, whatever it be\n  I love my niggaz and they love me (get off our dick)\n  What? you ain't gettin the point I think I'll give it to you\n  Right in your waist and hand your fuckin liver to you, yeah\n  [Verse 3 - Jadakiss\n  ] (Sheek Louch)\n  Uh, uh, uh, uh, hey yo this is why I claim no slums (why?)\n  Cause I could sit back,\n  knock off a half a brick, and chew Rainblow Gums\n  And the color of the Benz will kill ya, it's gold\n  When it's movin fast it look like silver, I'm low\n  With the trey pound next to my nuts\n  A shotgun ridin shotgun on the seat next to my dutch\n  I swear for God the Mag'll bust\n  Niggaz know 'Kiss flow been crazy like a bag of dust\n  Y'all industry-tuitionalized\n  My niggaz is real, real niggaz see the truth and the lies\n  Aimin for your head (but really tryna shoot out your eyes)\n  With every Tef, then stomp out whatever is left\n  And sometimes I say shit that I shouldn't\n  But I never said that I couldn't\n  Turn your chest plate into pudding\n  And all my niggaz'll spray\n  Except women,\n  so the reason y'all living, cause y'all niggaz is gay, uh\n"},{"id":16577634,"name":"The Streetsweeper","trackName":"The Streetsweeper","artistName":"Kay Slay, DJ feat. LOX, The","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1","duration":231.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"feat. The Lox)\n[Verse 1 - Styles P\n] (Sheek Louch)\nWhen there's beef I'ma ride and won't slide 'til I'm debtin you\n(P swallow your pride), my pride ain't edible\nFuck with my life, I'm stressin your death\nCut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck\nYou wanna gun who (*laughing*), what?\nShit it's the ghost and my style's like the art of Water Block Sun Soo\nIt's the ghetto godfather, priest in the hood\nCross the line that's your spine, I'm the beast in the hood\nDon't consider that I rap, just consider I'm strapped\nAnd I squeeze at your brain, face, rib and your back\nDog we can keep it brief get straight to the beef\nI'm so deep they see the pain in my eyes when I'm sleep\nI made a vow to the streets at a very young age\nThat I would always use my knife and I would let my gun blaze\nGot niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me\nBust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me\nMy niggaz is real they all'll see the judge with me\nNobody in rap, cause all my niggaz thug with me (nigga)\n[Chorus - Sheek Louch\n] + (Jadakiss)\nWe gon' keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\nBustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\nBringin the storm (changin the norm)\nNiggaz is ass (let's get it on)\nWalk with me (I)\nKeep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\nBustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\nBringin the storm (changin the norm)\nNiggaz is ass (let's get it on)\nWalk with me (I)\n[Verse 2 - Sheek Louch\n] (Styles P)\nWe chase niggaz through malls\nClap niggaz through walls\nY'all want it with them D-Block boys\nPut the brown things up in you like Chips Ahoys\nListen I'ma thug and I'm proud\nY'all niggaz \"Fashionably Loud\"\nI don't give a fuck what kind of shirt that is\nI'll put the barrel to your kids and your wiz\nWatch them float, fish takin bites of they skin\nLittle holes in they chin\nYou in the mirror tryna see if they spin\nNiggaz is ass, tell a nigga drop the top and stop\nRoll the windows down, get rid of the cop\nI'm in the hood like boots on niggaz cars\nGats on niggaz waist, you couldn't even tell that we stars\nBreak down food, pizza, whatever it be\nI love my niggaz and they love me (get off our dick)\nWhat? you ain't gettin the point I think I'll give it to you\nRight in your waist and hand your fuckin liver to you, yeah\n[Verse 3 - Jadakiss\n] (Sheek Louch)\nUh, uh, uh, uh, hey yo this is why I claim no slums (why?)\nCause I could sit back,\nknock off a half a brick, and chew Rainblow Gums\nAnd the color of the Benz will kill ya, it's gold\nWhen it's movin fast it look like silver, I'm low\nWith the trey pound next to my nuts\nA shotgun ridin shotgun on the seat next to my dutch\nI swear for God the Mag'll bust\nNiggaz know 'Kiss flow been crazy like a bag of dust\nY'all industry-tuitionalized\nMy niggaz is real, real niggaz see the truth and the lies\nAimin for your head (but really tryna shoot out your eyes)\nWith every Tef, then stomp out whatever is left\nAnd sometimes I say shit that I shouldn't\nBut I never said that I couldn't\nTurn your chest plate into pudding\nAnd all my niggaz'll spray\nExcept women,\nso the reason y'all living, cause y'all niggaz is gay, uh","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Streetsweeper\n  artist: Kay Slay, DJ feat. LOX, The\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 231000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  feat. The Lox)\n  [Verse 1 - Styles P\n  ] (Sheek Louch)\n  When there's beef I'ma ride and won't slide 'til I'm debtin you\n  (P swallow your pride), my pride ain't edible\n  Fuck with my life, I'm stressin your death\n  Cut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck\n  You wanna gun who (*laughing*), what?\n  Shit it's the ghost and my style's like the art of Water Block Sun Soo\n  It's the ghetto godfather, priest in the hood\n  Cross the line that's your spine, I'm the beast in the hood\n  Don't consider that I rap, just consider I'm strapped\n  And I squeeze at your brain, face, rib and your back\n  Dog we can keep it brief get straight to the beef\n  I'm so deep they see the pain in my eyes when I'm sleep\n  I made a vow to the streets at a very young age\n  That I would always use my knife and I would let my gun blaze\n  Got niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me\n  Bust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me\n  My niggaz is real they all'll see the judge with me\n  Nobody in rap, cause all my niggaz thug with me (nigga)\n  [Chorus - Sheek Louch\n  ] + (Jadakiss)\n  We gon' keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\n  Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\n  Bringin the storm (changin the norm)\n  Niggaz is ass (let's get it on)\n  Walk with me (I)\n  Keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh\n  Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah\n  Bringin the storm (changin the norm)\n  Niggaz is ass (let's get it on)\n  Walk with me (I)\n  [Verse 2 - Sheek Louch\n  ] (Styles P)\n  We chase niggaz through malls\n  Clap niggaz through walls\n  Y'all want it with them D-Block boys\n  Put the brown things up in you like Chips Ahoys\n  Listen I'ma thug and I'm proud\n  Y'all niggaz \"Fashionably Loud\"\n  I don't give a fuck what kind of shirt that is\n  I'll put the barrel to your kids and your wiz\n  Watch them float, fish takin bites of they skin\n  Little holes in they chin\n  You in the mirror tryna see if they spin\n  Niggaz is ass, tell a nigga drop the top and stop\n  Roll the windows down, get rid of the cop\n  I'm in the hood like boots on niggaz cars\n  Gats on niggaz waist, you couldn't even tell that we stars\n  Break down food, pizza, whatever it be\n  I love my niggaz and they love me (get off our dick)\n  What? you ain't gettin the point I think I'll give it to you\n  Right in your waist and hand your fuckin liver to you, yeah\n  [Verse 3 - Jadakiss\n  ] (Sheek Louch)\n  Uh, uh, uh, uh, hey yo this is why I claim no slums (why?)\n  Cause I could sit back,\n  knock off a half a brick, and chew Rainblow Gums\n  And the color of the Benz will kill ya, it's gold\n  When it's movin fast it look like silver, I'm low\n  With the trey pound next to my nuts\n  A shotgun ridin shotgun on the seat next to my dutch\n  I swear for God the Mag'll bust\n  Niggaz know 'Kiss flow been crazy like a bag of dust\n  Y'all industry-tuitionalized\n  My niggaz is real, real niggaz see the truth and the lies\n  Aimin for your head (but really tryna shoot out your eyes)\n  With every Tef, then stomp out whatever is left\n  And sometimes I say shit that I shouldn't\n  But I never said that I couldn't\n  Turn your chest plate into pudding\n  And all my niggaz'll spray\n  Except women,\n  so the reason y'all living, cause y'all niggaz is gay, uh\n"},{"id":36499231,"name":"Get Shot the Fuck Up","trackName":"Get Shot the Fuck Up","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Volume 1","duration":214.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You wanna talk tough\nYou get shot the fuck up\nNiggas don't stop till they get\n\nShot the fuck up\nBet he don't stop till he get\nShot the fuck up\nNiggas wanna front so they get\nShot the fuck up\n\nShot the fuck up\nBet he don't stop till he get\nShot the fuck up\n\nNigga if we got plans for murder we gon' follow through\nSometimes we can't plan we just gotta move\nIn the heat of the moment man it's time to shoot\nAin't no time to scheme just time to bruise\nAnd believe we do damage that won't heal back\nLook how that boy head look they can't fix that\nAll they know is supposedly P\nCame through blowin' the heat\nBut it's all speculation\nY'all some murderin' ass niggas we give you space man\n\nBut it's gon' be a conflict you get in our way man\nI'll tell you this one time fuck out my way man\nCause I will kill one of you niggas for bringin' that shit\nSee we don't give a fuck about your reputation\nOr how many souls you walkin' with I'll put you with them\nYour name ring bells but so do my bullets\nFuck you and everybody you move with\nLet's do it\n\nYou wanna talk tough\nYou get shot the fuck up\nNiggas wanna front so they get\nShot the fuck up\n\nBet some bullet holes make niggas\nShut the fuck up\nNiggas wanna front so they get\nShot the fuck up\nBet he don't stop till he get\nShot the fuck up\nNiggas wanna front so they get\nShot the fuck up\n\nNiggas wanna talk shit so they get\nShot the fuck up\n\nFaced shots to the face make niggas\nShut the fuck up\n\nYou know I choose money over bunnies\nNo honeys over my thunnies\nI'm gully, know it's only God who love me\nSometimes my moms hug me say my ways is ugly\n\nI'm not who she raised, cause today I'm what a thug be\nThe gun cocked when it's beef them joints pop\nNigga like me gon' be in the grave or on top\nCause till then nigga I won't stop\nHustlin' and grindin'\nMost of these bitch niggas be tryin' and they whinin'\nNigga never blastin' no iron they lyin'\nNever be a thug stop tryin'\n\nFrontin' like they famous with guns and bangers\nThe only iron niggas ever held was hangers\nThe difference between me and you is I clap heat\nI'm firin' you dyin' I practice what I preach\n\nI shoot 'em up nigga and you assed out\nAnd if you snitch I'll do the bid and max out\n\nGo home and murder you nigga\n\nYou wanna talk tough\nYou get shot the fuck up\nNiggas wanna front so they get\nShot the fuck up\n\nBet some bullet holes make niggas\nShut the fuck up\nNiggas wanna front so they get\nShot the fuck up\nBet he don't stop till he get\nShot the fuck up\nNiggas wanna front so they get\nShot the fuck up\n\nNiggas wanna talk shit so they get\nShot the fuck up\n\nFaced shots to the face make niggas\nShut the fuck up\n\nYo I'll have you leakin' leakin' I'm just truthfully speakin'\nI tear that ass out the frame like a boxed in Regan\nHomie snitched so he died for treason\nI'm in my room with my hammer cocked back\nIn a by myself meeting\nWatch the pound blow her back\nHe won't get a chance to reach\nNiggas talkin' like girls, somethin' sweet with they speech\nDrag his ass cross the dance floor with shirt over his head\nHave him crawlin' like a new born baby\n\nMotherfuckin' sick think they gon' play me\nNiggas wanna save face so they run for safety\nOK one to ten niggas wanna rate me?\n\nMotherfuck a rate D's\nWhen I'm out in the world still rockin' them state greens\nTo all my niggas behind bars we on the same team\n\nYeah and like that wild wild west\nYou know where we aimin' at so fuck you best, nigga\n\nYou wanna talk tough\nYou get shot the fuck up\nNiggas wanna front so they get\nShot the fuck up\n\nBet some bullet holes make niggas\nShut the fuck up\nNiggas wanna front so they get\nShot the fuck up\nBet he don't stop till he get\nShot the fuck up\nNiggas wanna front so they get\nShot the fuck up\n\nNiggas wanna talk shit so they get\nShot the fuck up\n\nFaced shots to the face make niggas\nShut the fuck up","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.73] You wanna talk tough\n[00:03.88] You get shot the fuck up\n[00:05.51] Niggas don't stop till they get\n[00:06.96] Shot the fuck up\n[00:08.15] Bet he don't stop till he get\n[00:09.56] Shot the fuck up\n[00:10.62] Niggas wanna front so they get\n[00:12.15] Shot the fuck up\n[00:14.83] Shot the fuck up\n[00:16.03] Bet he don't stop till he get\n[00:17.44] Shot the fuck up\n[00:20.44] \n[00:23.30] Nigga if we got plans for murder we gon' follow through\n[00:26.30] Sometimes we can't plan we just gotta move\n[00:29.01] In the heat of the moment man it's time to shoot\n[00:31.62] Ain't no time to scheme just time to bruise\n[00:34.03] And believe we do damage that won't heal back\n[00:37.20] Look how that boy head look they can't fix that\n[00:39.68] All they know is supposedly P\n[00:41.67] Came through blowin' the heat\n[00:43.15] But it's all speculation\n[00:44.80] Y'all some murderin' ass niggas we give you space man\n[00:47.53] But it's gon' be a conflict you get in our way man\n[00:50.24] I'll tell you this one time fuck out my way man\n[00:52.76] Cause I will kill one of you niggas for bringin' that shit\n[00:55.69] See we don't give a fuck about your reputation\n[00:58.18] Or how many souls you walkin' with I'll put you with them\n[01:00.90] Your name ring bells but so do my bullets\n[01:03.49] Fuck you and everybody you move with\n[01:05.57] Let's do it\n[01:06.24] You wanna talk tough\n[01:07.29] You get shot the fuck up\n[01:08.99] Niggas wanna front so they get\n[01:10.33] Shot the fuck up\n[01:11.50] Bet some bullet holes make niggas\n[01:13.06] Shut the fuck up\n[01:14.19] Niggas wanna front so they get\n[01:15.67] Shot the fuck up\n[01:16.89] Bet he don't stop till he get\n[01:18.34] Shot the fuck up\n[01:19.41] Niggas wanna front so they get\n[01:20.92] Shot the fuck up\n[01:22.19] Niggas wanna talk shit so they get\n[01:23.61] Shot the fuck up\n[01:24.42] Faced shots to the face make niggas\n[01:26.00] Shut the fuck up\n[01:26.73] You know I choose money over bunnies\n[01:28.55] No honeys over my thunnies\n[01:29.90] I'm gully, know it's only God who love me\n[01:32.42] Sometimes my moms hug me say my ways is ugly\n[01:35.02] I'm not who she raised, cause today I'm what a thug be\n[01:37.85] The gun cocked when it's beef them joints pop\n[01:40.12] Nigga like me gon' be in the grave or on top\n[01:42.86] Cause till then nigga I won't stop\n[01:44.60] Hustlin' and grindin'\n[01:45.99] Most of these bitch niggas be tryin' and they whinin'\n[01:48.65] Nigga never blastin' no iron they lyin'\n[01:51.28] Never be a thug stop tryin'\n[01:53.29] Frontin' like they famous with guns and bangers\n[01:55.75] The only iron niggas ever held was hangers\n[01:58.34] The difference between me and you is I clap heat\n[02:00.94] I'm firin' you dyin' I practice what I preach\n[02:03.74] I shoot 'em up nigga and you assed out\n[02:06.64] And if you snitch I'll do the bid and max out\n[02:08.98] Go home and murder you nigga\n[02:10.34] You wanna talk tough\n[02:10.71] You get shot the fuck up\n[02:12.37] Niggas wanna front so they get\n[02:13.72] Shot the fuck up\n[02:14.93] Bet some bullet holes make niggas\n[02:16.54] Shut the fuck up\n[02:17.66] Niggas wanna front so they get\n[02:19.17] Shot the fuck up\n[02:20.39] Bet he don't stop till he get\n[02:21.78] Shot the fuck up\n[02:22.92] Niggas wanna front so they get\n[02:24.32] Shot the fuck up\n[02:25.58] Niggas wanna talk shit so they get\n[02:27.08] Shot the fuck up\n[02:27.91] Faced shots to the face make niggas\n[02:29.10] Shut the fuck up\n[02:30.26] Yo I'll have you leakin' leakin' I'm just truthfully speakin'\n[02:33.13] I tear that ass out the frame like a boxed in Regan\n[02:35.96] Homie snitched so he died for treason\n[02:37.72] I'm in my room with my hammer cocked back\n[02:39.85] In a by myself meeting\n[02:41.16] Watch the pound blow her back\n[02:42.58] He won't get a chance to reach\n[02:43.87] Niggas talkin' like girls, somethin' sweet with they speech\n[02:46.56] Drag his ass cross the dance floor with shirt over his head\n[02:49.77] Have him crawlin' like a new born baby\n[02:52.16] Motherfuckin' sick think they gon' play me\n[02:54.42] Niggas wanna save face so they run for safety\n[02:57.11] OK one to ten niggas wanna rate me?\n[03:00.95] Motherfuck a rate D's\n[03:02.34] When I'm out in the world still rockin' them state greens\n[03:04.88] To all my niggas behind bars we on the same team\n[03:08.25] Yeah and like that wild wild west\n[03:10.49] You know where we aimin' at so fuck you best, nigga\n[03:13.12] You wanna talk tough\n[03:14.18] You get shot the fuck up\n[03:15.73] Niggas wanna front so they get\n[03:17.28] Shot the fuck up\n[03:18.45] Bet some bullet holes make niggas\n[03:19.93] Shut the fuck up\n[03:21.07] Niggas wanna front so they get\n[03:22.57] Shot the fuck up\n[03:23.75] Bet he don't stop till he get\n[03:25.26] Shot the fuck up\n[03:26.36] Niggas wanna front so they get\n[03:27.85] Shot the fuck up\n[03:28.96] Niggas wanna talk shit so they get\n[03:30.42] Shot the fuck up\n[03:31.39] Faced shots to the face make niggas\n[03:33.13] Shut the fuck up\n[03:34.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Get Shot the Fuck Up\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Volume 1\n  duration_ms: 214000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: You wanna talk tough\n  start_ms: 2730\n  end_ms: 3880\n- text: You get shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 3880\n  end_ms: 5510\n- text: Niggas don't stop till they get\n  start_ms: 5510\n  end_ms: 6960\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 6960\n  end_ms: 8150\n- text: Bet he don't stop till he get\n  start_ms: 8150\n  end_ms: 9560\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 9560\n  end_ms: 10620\n- text: Niggas wanna front so they get\n  start_ms: 10620\n  end_ms: 12150\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 12150\n  end_ms: 14830\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 14830\n  end_ms: 16030\n- text: Bet he don't stop till he get\n  start_ms: 16030\n  end_ms: 17440\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 17440\n  end_ms: 20440\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 20440\n  end_ms: 23300\n- text: Nigga if we got plans for murder we gon' follow through\n  start_ms: 23300\n  end_ms: 26300\n- text: Sometimes we can't plan we just gotta move\n  start_ms: 26300\n  end_ms: 29010\n- text: In the heat of the moment man it's time to shoot\n  start_ms: 29010\n  end_ms: 31620\n- text: Ain't no time to scheme just time to bruise\n  start_ms: 31620\n  end_ms: 34030\n- text: And believe we do damage that won't heal back\n  start_ms: 34030\n  end_ms: 37200\n- text: Look how that boy head look they can't fix that\n  start_ms: 37200\n  end_ms: 39680\n- text: All they know is supposedly P\n  start_ms: 39680\n  end_ms: 41670\n- text: Came through blowin' the heat\n  start_ms: 41670\n  end_ms: 43150\n- text: But it's all speculation\n  start_ms: 43150\n  end_ms: 44800\n- text: Y'all some murderin' ass niggas we give you space man\n  start_ms: 44800\n  end_ms: 47530\n- text: But it's gon' be a conflict you get in our way man\n  start_ms: 47530\n  end_ms: 50240\n- text: I'll tell you this one time fuck out my way man\n  start_ms: 50240\n  end_ms: 52760\n- text: Cause I will kill one of you niggas for bringin' that shit\n  start_ms: 52760\n  end_ms: 55690\n- text: See we don't give a fuck about your reputation\n  start_ms: 55690\n  end_ms: 58180\n- text: Or how many souls you walkin' with I'll put you with them\n  start_ms: 58180\n  end_ms: 60900\n- text: Your name ring bells but so do my bullets\n  start_ms: 60900\n  end_ms: 63490\n- text: Fuck you and everybody you move with\n  start_ms: 63490\n  end_ms: 65570\n- text: Let's do it\n  start_ms: 65570\n  end_ms: 66240\n- text: You wanna talk tough\n  start_ms: 66240\n  end_ms: 67290\n- text: You get shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 67290\n  end_ms: 68990\n- text: Niggas wanna front so they get\n  start_ms: 68990\n  end_ms: 70330\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 70330\n  end_ms: 71500\n- text: Bet some bullet holes make niggas\n  start_ms: 71500\n  end_ms: 73060\n- text: Shut the fuck up\n  start_ms: 73060\n  end_ms: 74190\n- text: Niggas wanna front so they get\n  start_ms: 74190\n  end_ms: 75670\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 75670\n  end_ms: 76890\n- text: Bet he don't stop till he get\n  start_ms: 76890\n  end_ms: 78340\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 78340\n  end_ms: 79410\n- text: Niggas wanna front so they get\n  start_ms: 79410\n  end_ms: 80920\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 80920\n  end_ms: 82190\n- text: Niggas wanna talk shit so they get\n  start_ms: 82190\n  end_ms: 83610\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 83610\n  end_ms: 84420\n- text: Faced shots to the face make niggas\n  start_ms: 84420\n  end_ms: 86000\n- text: Shut the fuck up\n  start_ms: 86000\n  end_ms: 86730\n- text: You know I choose money over bunnies\n  start_ms: 86730\n  end_ms: 88550\n- text: No honeys over my thunnies\n  start_ms: 88550\n  end_ms: 89900\n- text: I'm gully, know it's only God who love me\n  start_ms: 89900\n  end_ms: 92420\n- text: Sometimes my moms hug me say my ways is ugly\n  start_ms: 92420\n  end_ms: 95020\n- text: I'm not who she raised, cause today I'm what a thug be\n  start_ms: 95020\n  end_ms: 97850\n- text: The gun cocked when it's beef them joints pop\n  start_ms: 97850\n  end_ms: 100120\n- text: Nigga like me gon' be in the grave or on top\n  start_ms: 100120\n  end_ms: 102860\n- text: Cause till then nigga I won't stop\n  start_ms: 102860\n  end_ms: 104600\n- text: Hustlin' and grindin'\n  start_ms: 104600\n  end_ms: 105990\n- text: Most of these bitch niggas be tryin' and they whinin'\n  start_ms: 105990\n  end_ms: 108650\n- text: Nigga never blastin' no iron they lyin'\n  start_ms: 108650\n  end_ms: 111280\n- text: Never be a thug stop tryin'\n  start_ms: 111280\n  end_ms: 113290\n- text: Frontin' like they famous with guns and bangers\n  start_ms: 113290\n  end_ms: 115750\n- text: The only iron niggas ever held was hangers\n  start_ms: 115750\n  end_ms: 118340\n- text: The difference between me and you is I clap heat\n  start_ms: 118340\n  end_ms: 120940\n- text: I'm firin' you dyin' I practice what I preach\n  start_ms: 120940\n  end_ms: 123740\n- text: I shoot 'em up nigga and you assed out\n  start_ms: 123740\n  end_ms: 126640\n- text: And if you snitch I'll do the bid and max out\n  start_ms: 126640\n  end_ms: 128980\n- text: Go home and murder you nigga\n  start_ms: 128980\n  end_ms: 130340\n- text: You wanna talk tough\n  start_ms: 130340\n  end_ms: 130710\n- text: You get shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 130710\n  end_ms: 132370\n- text: Niggas wanna front so they get\n  start_ms: 132370\n  end_ms: 133720\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 133720\n  end_ms: 134930\n- text: Bet some bullet holes make niggas\n  start_ms: 134930\n  end_ms: 136540\n- text: Shut the fuck up\n  start_ms: 136540\n  end_ms: 137660\n- text: Niggas wanna front so they get\n  start_ms: 137660\n  end_ms: 139170\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 139170\n  end_ms: 140390\n- text: Bet he don't stop till he get\n  start_ms: 140390\n  end_ms: 141780\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 141780\n  end_ms: 142920\n- text: Niggas wanna front so they get\n  start_ms: 142920\n  end_ms: 144320\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 144320\n  end_ms: 145580\n- text: Niggas wanna talk shit so they get\n  start_ms: 145580\n  end_ms: 147080\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 147080\n  end_ms: 147910\n- text: Faced shots to the face make niggas\n  start_ms: 147910\n  end_ms: 149100\n- text: Shut the fuck up\n  start_ms: 149100\n  end_ms: 150260\n- text: Yo I'll have you leakin' leakin' I'm just truthfully speakin'\n  start_ms: 150260\n  end_ms: 153130\n- text: I tear that ass out the frame like a boxed in Regan\n  start_ms: 153130\n  end_ms: 155960\n- text: Homie snitched so he died for treason\n  start_ms: 155960\n  end_ms: 157720\n- text: I'm in my room with my hammer cocked back\n  start_ms: 157720\n  end_ms: 159850\n- text: In a by myself meeting\n  start_ms: 159850\n  end_ms: 161160\n- text: Watch the pound blow her back\n  start_ms: 161160\n  end_ms: 162580\n- text: He won't get a chance to reach\n  start_ms: 162580\n  end_ms: 163870\n- text: Niggas talkin' like girls, somethin' sweet with they speech\n  start_ms: 163870\n  end_ms: 166560\n- text: Drag his ass cross the dance floor with shirt over his head\n  start_ms: 166560\n  end_ms: 169770\n- text: Have him crawlin' like a new born baby\n  start_ms: 169770\n  end_ms: 172160\n- text: Motherfuckin' sick think they gon' play me\n  start_ms: 172160\n  end_ms: 174420\n- text: Niggas wanna save face so they run for safety\n  start_ms: 174420\n  end_ms: 177110\n- text: OK one to ten niggas wanna rate me?\n  start_ms: 177110\n  end_ms: 180950\n- text: Motherfuck a rate D's\n  start_ms: 180950\n  end_ms: 182340\n- text: When I'm out in the world still rockin' them state greens\n  start_ms: 182340\n  end_ms: 184880\n- text: To all my niggas behind bars we on the same team\n  start_ms: 184880\n  end_ms: 188250\n- text: Yeah and like that wild wild west\n  start_ms: 188250\n  end_ms: 190490\n- text: You know where we aimin' at so fuck you best, nigga\n  start_ms: 190490\n  end_ms: 193120\n- text: You wanna talk tough\n  start_ms: 193120\n  end_ms: 194180\n- text: You get shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 194180\n  end_ms: 195730\n- text: Niggas wanna front so they get\n  start_ms: 195730\n  end_ms: 197280\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 197280\n  end_ms: 198450\n- text: Bet some bullet holes make niggas\n  start_ms: 198450\n  end_ms: 199930\n- text: Shut the fuck up\n  start_ms: 199930\n  end_ms: 201070\n- text: Niggas wanna front so they get\n  start_ms: 201070\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 203750\n- text: Bet he don't stop till he get\n  start_ms: 203750\n  end_ms: 205260\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 205260\n  end_ms: 206360\n- text: Niggas wanna front so they get\n  start_ms: 206360\n  end_ms: 207850\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 207850\n  end_ms: 208960\n- text: Niggas wanna talk shit so they get\n  start_ms: 208960\n  end_ms: 210420\n- text: Shot the fuck up\n  start_ms: 210420\n  end_ms: 211390\n- text: Faced shots to the face make niggas\n  start_ms: 211390\n  end_ms: 213130\n- text: Shut the fuck up\n  start_ms: 213130\n  end_ms: 214230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 214230\nplain: |-\n  You wanna talk tough\n  You get shot the fuck up\n  Niggas don't stop till they get\n\n  Shot the fuck up\n  Bet he don't stop till he get\n  Shot the fuck up\n  Niggas wanna front so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n\n  Shot the fuck up\n  Bet he don't stop till he get\n  Shot the fuck up\n\n  Nigga if we got plans for murder we gon' follow through\n  Sometimes we can't plan we just gotta move\n  In the heat of the moment man it's time to shoot\n  Ain't no time to scheme just time to bruise\n  And believe we do damage that won't heal back\n  Look how that boy head look they can't fix that\n  All they know is supposedly P\n  Came through blowin' the heat\n  But it's all speculation\n  Y'all some murderin' ass niggas we give you space man\n\n  But it's gon' be a conflict you get in our way man\n  I'll tell you this one time fuck out my way man\n  Cause I will kill one of you niggas for bringin' that shit\n  See we don't give a fuck about your reputation\n  Or how many souls you walkin' with I'll put you with them\n  Your name ring bells but so do my bullets\n  Fuck you and everybody you move with\n  Let's do it\n\n  You wanna talk tough\n  You get shot the fuck up\n  Niggas wanna front so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n\n  Bet some bullet holes make niggas\n  Shut the fuck up\n  Niggas wanna front so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n  Bet he don't stop till he get\n  Shot the fuck up\n  Niggas wanna front so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n\n  Niggas wanna talk shit so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n\n  Faced shots to the face make niggas\n  Shut the fuck up\n\n  You know I choose money over bunnies\n  No honeys over my thunnies\n  I'm gully, know it's only God who love me\n  Sometimes my moms hug me say my ways is ugly\n\n  I'm not who she raised, cause today I'm what a thug be\n  The gun cocked when it's beef them joints pop\n  Nigga like me gon' be in the grave or on top\n  Cause till then nigga I won't stop\n  Hustlin' and grindin'\n  Most of these bitch niggas be tryin' and they whinin'\n  Nigga never blastin' no iron they lyin'\n  Never be a thug stop tryin'\n\n  Frontin' like they famous with guns and bangers\n  The only iron niggas ever held was hangers\n  The difference between me and you is I clap heat\n  I'm firin' you dyin' I practice what I preach\n\n  I shoot 'em up nigga and you assed out\n  And if you snitch I'll do the bid and max out\n\n  Go home and murder you nigga\n\n  You wanna talk tough\n  You get shot the fuck up\n  Niggas wanna front so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n\n  Bet some bullet holes make niggas\n  Shut the fuck up\n  Niggas wanna front so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n  Bet he don't stop till he get\n  Shot the fuck up\n  Niggas wanna front so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n\n  Niggas wanna talk shit so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n\n  Faced shots to the face make niggas\n  Shut the fuck up\n\n  Yo I'll have you leakin' leakin' I'm just truthfully speakin'\n  I tear that ass out the frame like a boxed in Regan\n  Homie snitched so he died for treason\n  I'm in my room with my hammer cocked back\n  In a by myself meeting\n  Watch the pound blow her back\n  He won't get a chance to reach\n  Niggas talkin' like girls, somethin' sweet with they speech\n  Drag his ass cross the dance floor with shirt over his head\n  Have him crawlin' like a new born baby\n\n  Motherfuckin' sick think they gon' play me\n  Niggas wanna save face so they run for safety\n  OK one to ten niggas wanna rate me?\n\n  Motherfuck a rate D's\n  When I'm out in the world still rockin' them state greens\n  To all my niggas behind bars we on the same team\n\n  Yeah and like that wild wild west\n  You know where we aimin' at so fuck you best, nigga\n\n  You wanna talk tough\n  You get shot the fuck up\n  Niggas wanna front so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n\n  Bet some bullet holes make niggas\n  Shut the fuck up\n  Niggas wanna front so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n  Bet he don't stop till he get\n  Shot the fuck up\n  Niggas wanna front so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n\n  Niggas wanna talk shit so they get\n  Shot the fuck up\n\n  Faced shots to the face make niggas\n  Shut the fuck up\n"},{"id":30704161,"name":"Take A Look At My Life (Clean Remix)","trackName":"Take A Look At My Life (Clean Remix)","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1","duration":302.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Woo! Friendly day in the neighborhood, hehe\nBirds is chirpin' (Hi neighbor!) niggas walkin' they dogs\nHaha, waterin' they flowers, that's my neighborhood\nOne, uh, I'm from the streets of the BX borough\nNiggas packin' the Macs, this is that serve shit\nFull Flex shit, Al Bo' shit, Raul, ya heard me?\nMacho, Jigga Brown, JB, Charlie Rock, LD\nRemy Ma, uh, sound boy turn this shit right here man\nYo, yo, yo\n\nI'm your idol, your highest title, numero uno\n\nYes, I'm Puerto Rican and I speak it so that you know\nStar, yeah, that's the idea\n\nLeave niggas leakin' from ear to ear\nListen here, young bruh, man, your end is near\nThey probably find your body at the end of the pier\nNiggas must be crazy to mistakin' me for folklore\nI put the eighty to your baby, man, I told y'all\n\nAin't shit to me, niggas can't fuck with me\nOne, pull out the pipe or push your weight back\n\nUgh, you hate that, look, we stay strapped\nA crook from way back that took the game back\nYou shook, remain fact, top of the world\nStop knockin' the girl, she in the drop\nWith Ready Roc lockin' the borough\nFishscale the her-on, live well from here on\nHalf a mill' in your grill, of course we bear arms\nNiggas ain't shit, these rappers is worms\nI pull up in they curb, pull a Desert Bird, uh\nAnd clear the block in no time\n\nGet off my dick, nigga, stop talkin' shit, get your own shine\nMa\n\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\nYou can catch me in a baby blue 600\n\nWith a can on my lap like, \"What bitch don't you get it?\"\nThis nigga in my passenger seat, that's just who I'm fuckin'\n\nHe's scared to roll my weed and get the dutches\n\nNever mind the fact that he's a don 'cause it's really nothin'\nOh, now I'm really fuckin', you see my chain hang\nYou see the diamonds in my watch doin' they damn thing\nSo keep poppin' shit and poppin' champagne\nI'ma pop in the clip and pop the thang-thang\nThe flow can't be stopped and won't be maintained\nDough super stacked, just copped the red Range\nUntouchable, so fuck do you\n\nI'm better than everybody in your whole fuckin' crew\nThat includes you, him, and her put together\nSo, what the fuck can you tell her?\nNothin', stop the dumb shit, Rem is hot\nCome through stuntin' in a baby blue drop\nBlowin' purple out the top, eyes red, bloodshot\nNothin' but green in my pocket, some brown in my wallet\nI'ma mix with this blue that I got from Uptown\nWhen I was pickin' up that white bird, Remy looked right, bitch\n\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\nAyo, dog, when I flash the Glock, it'll blast a cop\nIt's G-Dep 'til my casket drop\n\nWhether you spittin' trash or not, bettin' cash or not\nI'ma still spit acid hot\nAnd niggas in that stretch 'cause my arms is strong\nWhat you think you clappin' when your arms is gone?\nI'll pop you, now your moms is gone\nIf it's on, it's on, I want cheese like Parmesan\nSon, you can't calm the calm, I got enough to\nBomb Saddam, my shit rock from song to song\nAnd Kid Rock from song to song\nYou's a fuckin' bitch and I see the thong it's on\n\nEight bless on the team, hit a body, the shit down\nFiends put the D in they body and sit down\n\nSee me doin' a buck thirty with the loud pipe\n\nTerror Squad gettin' dirty, underground life\n\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\nYeah, it's DJ Kay Slay, a.k.a. Slap Your Favorite DJ\nThe black Fat Joe of the motherfuckin' game\nTerror Squad, motherfuckers, y'all know what it is\nI'll fuckin' slap the shit out of one of you motherfuckers\nY'all front on the Squad, man, y'all know what it is, man\n2003 Shit, motherfucker, aight? Oh, oh, oh yeah\nFor promotional use only","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.34] Woo! Friendly day in the neighborhood, hehe\n[00:09.16] Birds is chirpin' (Hi neighbor!) niggas walkin' they dogs\n[00:14.37] Haha, waterin' they flowers, that's my neighborhood\n[00:19.30] One, uh, I'm from the streets of the BX borough\n[00:23.58] Niggas packin' the Macs, this is that serve shit\n[00:27.92] Full Flex shit, Al Bo' shit, Raul, ya heard me?\n[00:32.02] Macho, Jigga Brown, JB, Charlie Rock, LD\n[00:36.18] Remy Ma, uh, sound boy turn this shit right here man\n[00:39.88] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:41.90] I'm your idol, your highest title, numero uno\n[00:45.10] Yes, I'm Puerto Rican and I speak it so that you know\n[00:47.96] Star, yeah, that's the idea\n[00:50.73] Leave niggas leakin' from ear to ear\n[00:53.36] Listen here, young bruh, man, your end is near\n[00:55.82] They probably find your body at the end of the pier\n[00:58.95] Niggas must be crazy to mistakin' me for folklore\n[01:02.35] I put the eighty to your baby, man, I told y'all\n[01:05.18] Ain't shit to me, niggas can't fuck with me\n[01:07.47] One, pull out the pipe or push your weight back\n[01:10.46] Ugh, you hate that, look, we stay strapped\n[01:13.08] A crook from way back that took the game back\n[01:15.86] You shook, remain fact, top of the world\n[01:18.32] Stop knockin' the girl, she in the drop\n[01:20.21] With Ready Roc lockin' the borough\n[01:22.15] Fishscale the her-on, live well from here on\n[01:25.04] Half a mill' in your grill, of course we bear arms\n[01:27.88] Niggas ain't shit, these rappers is worms\n[01:30.05] I pull up in they curb, pull a Desert Bird, uh\n[01:33.39] And clear the block in no time\n[01:35.32] Get off my dick, nigga, stop talkin' shit, get your own shine\n[01:38.58] Ma\n[01:39.13] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[01:41.88] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[01:44.65] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[01:47.43] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[01:50.47] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[01:53.17] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[01:55.95] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[01:58.76] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[02:01.06] You can catch me in a baby blue 600\n[02:01.95] With a can on my lap like, \"What bitch don't you get it?\"\n[02:04.76] This nigga in my passenger seat, that's just who I'm fuckin'\n[02:07.22] He's scared to roll my weed and get the dutches\n[02:10.00] Never mind the fact that he's a don 'cause it's really nothin'\n[02:12.73] Oh, now I'm really fuckin', you see my chain hang\n[02:15.75] You see the diamonds in my watch doin' they damn thing\n[02:18.14] So keep poppin' shit and poppin' champagne\n[02:20.88] I'ma pop in the clip and pop the thang-thang\n[02:23.73] The flow can't be stopped and won't be maintained\n[02:26.72] Dough super stacked, just copped the red Range\n[02:29.64] Untouchable, so fuck do you\n[02:32.20] I'm better than everybody in your whole fuckin' crew\n[02:34.98] That includes you, him, and her put together\n[02:37.98] So, what the fuck can you tell her?\n[02:40.63] Nothin', stop the dumb shit, Rem is hot\n[02:43.44] Come through stuntin' in a baby blue drop\n[02:46.12] Blowin' purple out the top, eyes red, bloodshot\n[02:49.01] Nothin' but green in my pocket, some brown in my wallet\n[02:51.99] I'ma mix with this blue that I got from Uptown\n[02:54.51] When I was pickin' up that white bird, Remy looked right, bitch\n[02:58.23] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[03:00.87] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[03:03.75] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[03:06.52] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[03:09.52] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[03:12.18] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[03:15.09] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[03:17.70] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[03:20.03] Ayo, dog, when I flash the Glock, it'll blast a cop\n[03:23.56] It's G-Dep 'til my casket drop\n[03:25.96] Whether you spittin' trash or not, bettin' cash or not\n[03:29.39] I'ma still spit acid hot\n[03:31.42] And niggas in that stretch 'cause my arms is strong\n[03:34.38] What you think you clappin' when your arms is gone?\n[03:36.98] I'll pop you, now your moms is gone\n[03:39.36] If it's on, it's on, I want cheese like Parmesan\n[03:42.73] Son, you can't calm the calm, I got enough to\n[03:45.53] Bomb Saddam, my shit rock from song to song\n[03:48.54] And Kid Rock from song to song\n[03:50.87] You's a fuckin' bitch and I see the thong it's on\n[03:54.15] Eight bless on the team, hit a body, the shit down\n[03:57.19] Fiends put the D in they body and sit down\n[04:00.08] See me doin' a buck thirty with the loud pipe\n[04:03.13] Terror Squad gettin' dirty, underground life\n[04:05.96] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[04:08.60] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[04:11.47] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[04:14.28] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[04:17.21] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[04:19.97] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[04:22.70] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[04:25.55] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[04:28.74] Yeah, it's DJ Kay Slay, a.k.a. Slap Your Favorite DJ\n[04:32.46] The black Fat Joe of the motherfuckin' game\n[04:34.97] Terror Squad, motherfuckers, y'all know what it is\n[04:37.47] I'll fuckin' slap the shit out of one of you motherfuckers\n[04:41.74] Y'all front on the Squad, man, y'all know what it is, man\n[04:44.77] 2003 Shit, motherfucker, aight? Oh, oh, oh yeah\n[04:50.77] For promotional use only\n[05:01.91] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Take A Look At My Life (Clean Remix)\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 302000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Woo! Friendly day in the neighborhood, hehe\n  start_ms: 3340\n  end_ms: 9160\n- text: Birds is chirpin' (Hi neighbor!) niggas walkin' they dogs\n  start_ms: 9160\n  end_ms: 14370\n- text: Haha, waterin' they flowers, that's my neighborhood\n  start_ms: 14370\n  end_ms: 19300\n- text: One, uh, I'm from the streets of the BX borough\n  start_ms: 19300\n  end_ms: 23580\n- text: Niggas packin' the Macs, this is that serve shit\n  start_ms: 23580\n  end_ms: 27920\n- text: Full Flex shit, Al Bo' shit, Raul, ya heard me?\n  start_ms: 27920\n  end_ms: 32020\n- text: Macho, Jigga Brown, JB, Charlie Rock, LD\n  start_ms: 32020\n  end_ms: 36180\n- text: Remy Ma, uh, sound boy turn this shit right here man\n  start_ms: 36180\n  end_ms: 39880\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 39880\n  end_ms: 41900\n- text: I'm your idol, your highest title, numero uno\n  start_ms: 41900\n  end_ms: 45100\n- text: Yes, I'm Puerto Rican and I speak it so that you know\n  start_ms: 45100\n  end_ms: 47960\n- text: Star, yeah, that's the idea\n  start_ms: 47960\n  end_ms: 50730\n- text: Leave niggas leakin' from ear to ear\n  start_ms: 50730\n  end_ms: 53360\n- text: Listen here, young bruh, man, your end is near\n  start_ms: 53360\n  end_ms: 55820\n- text: They probably find your body at the end of the pier\n  start_ms: 55820\n  end_ms: 58950\n- text: Niggas must be crazy to mistakin' me for folklore\n  start_ms: 58950\n  end_ms: 62350\n- text: I put the eighty to your baby, man, I told y'all\n  start_ms: 62350\n  end_ms: 65180\n- text: Ain't shit to me, niggas can't fuck with me\n  start_ms: 65180\n  end_ms: 67470\n- text: One, pull out the pipe or push your weight back\n  start_ms: 67470\n  end_ms: 70460\n- text: Ugh, you hate that, look, we stay strapped\n  start_ms: 70460\n  end_ms: 73080\n- text: A crook from way back that took the game back\n  start_ms: 73080\n  end_ms: 75860\n- text: You shook, remain fact, top of the world\n  start_ms: 75860\n  end_ms: 78320\n- text: Stop knockin' the girl, she in the drop\n  start_ms: 78320\n  end_ms: 80210\n- text: With Ready Roc lockin' the borough\n  start_ms: 80210\n  end_ms: 82150\n- text: Fishscale the her-on, live well from here on\n  start_ms: 82150\n  end_ms: 85040\n- text: Half a mill' in your grill, of course we bear arms\n  start_ms: 85040\n  end_ms: 87880\n- text: Niggas ain't shit, these rappers is worms\n  start_ms: 87880\n  end_ms: 90050\n- text: I pull up in they curb, pull a Desert Bird, uh\n  start_ms: 90050\n  end_ms: 93390\n- text: And clear the block in no time\n  start_ms: 93390\n  end_ms: 95320\n- text: Get off my dick, nigga, stop talkin' shit, get your own shine\n  start_ms: 95320\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: Ma\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 99130\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 99130\n  end_ms: 101880\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 101880\n  end_ms: 104650\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 104650\n  end_ms: 107430\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 107430\n  end_ms: 110470\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 110470\n  end_ms: 113170\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 113170\n  end_ms: 115950\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 115950\n  end_ms: 118760\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 118760\n  end_ms: 121060\n- text: You can catch me in a baby blue 600\n  start_ms: 121060\n  end_ms: 121950\n- text: With a can on my lap like, \"What bitch don't you get it?\"\n  start_ms: 121950\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: This nigga in my passenger seat, that's just who I'm fuckin'\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127220\n- text: He's scared to roll my weed and get the dutches\n  start_ms: 127220\n  end_ms: 130000\n- text: Never mind the fact that he's a don 'cause it's really nothin'\n  start_ms: 130000\n  end_ms: 132730\n- text: Oh, now I'm really fuckin', you see my chain hang\n  start_ms: 132730\n  end_ms: 135750\n- text: You see the diamonds in my watch doin' they damn thing\n  start_ms: 135750\n  end_ms: 138140\n- text: So keep poppin' shit and poppin' champagne\n  start_ms: 138140\n  end_ms: 140880\n- text: I'ma pop in the clip and pop the thang-thang\n  start_ms: 140880\n  end_ms: 143730\n- text: The flow can't be stopped and won't be maintained\n  start_ms: 143730\n  end_ms: 146720\n- text: Dough super stacked, just copped the red Range\n  start_ms: 146720\n  end_ms: 149640\n- text: Untouchable, so fuck do you\n  start_ms: 149640\n  end_ms: 152200\n- text: I'm better than everybody in your whole fuckin' crew\n  start_ms: 152200\n  end_ms: 154980\n- text: That includes you, him, and her put together\n  start_ms: 154980\n  end_ms: 157980\n- text: So, what the fuck can you tell her?\n  start_ms: 157980\n  end_ms: 160630\n- text: Nothin', stop the dumb shit, Rem is hot\n  start_ms: 160630\n  end_ms: 163440\n- text: Come through stuntin' in a baby blue drop\n  start_ms: 163440\n  end_ms: 166120\n- text: Blowin' purple out the top, eyes red, bloodshot\n  start_ms: 166120\n  end_ms: 169010\n- text: Nothin' but green in my pocket, some brown in my wallet\n  start_ms: 169010\n  end_ms: 171990\n- text: I'ma mix with this blue that I got from Uptown\n  start_ms: 171990\n  end_ms: 174510\n- text: When I was pickin' up that white bird, Remy looked right, bitch\n  start_ms: 174510\n  end_ms: 178230\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 178230\n  end_ms: 180870\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 180870\n  end_ms: 183750\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 183750\n  end_ms: 186520\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 186520\n  end_ms: 189520\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 189520\n  end_ms: 192180\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 192180\n  end_ms: 195090\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 195090\n  end_ms: 197700\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 197700\n  end_ms: 200030\n- text: Ayo, dog, when I flash the Glock, it'll blast a cop\n  start_ms: 200030\n  end_ms: 203560\n- text: It's G-Dep 'til my casket drop\n  start_ms: 203560\n  end_ms: 205960\n- text: Whether you spittin' trash or not, bettin' cash or not\n  start_ms: 205960\n  end_ms: 209390\n- text: I'ma still spit acid hot\n  start_ms: 209390\n  end_ms: 211420\n- text: And niggas in that stretch 'cause my arms is strong\n  start_ms: 211420\n  end_ms: 214380\n- text: What you think you clappin' when your arms is gone?\n  start_ms: 214380\n  end_ms: 216980\n- text: I'll pop you, now your moms is gone\n  start_ms: 216980\n  end_ms: 219360\n- text: If it's on, it's on, I want cheese like Parmesan\n  start_ms: 219360\n  end_ms: 222730\n- text: Son, you can't calm the calm, I got enough to\n  start_ms: 222730\n  end_ms: 225530\n- text: Bomb Saddam, my shit rock from song to song\n  start_ms: 225530\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: And Kid Rock from song to song\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 230870\n- text: You's a fuckin' bitch and I see the thong it's on\n  start_ms: 230870\n  end_ms: 234150\n- text: Eight bless on the team, hit a body, the shit down\n  start_ms: 234150\n  end_ms: 237190\n- text: Fiends put the D in they body and sit down\n  start_ms: 237190\n  end_ms: 240080\n- text: See me doin' a buck thirty with the loud pipe\n  start_ms: 240080\n  end_ms: 243130\n- text: Terror Squad gettin' dirty, underground life\n  start_ms: 243130\n  end_ms: 245960\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 245960\n  end_ms: 248600\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 248600\n  end_ms: 251470\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 251470\n  end_ms: 254280\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 254280\n  end_ms: 257210\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 257210\n  end_ms: 259970\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 259970\n  end_ms: 262700\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 262700\n  end_ms: 265550\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 265550\n  end_ms: 268740\n- text: Yeah, it's DJ Kay Slay, a.k.a. Slap Your Favorite DJ\n  start_ms: 268740\n  end_ms: 272460\n- text: The black Fat Joe of the motherfuckin' game\n  start_ms: 272460\n  end_ms: 274970\n- text: Terror Squad, motherfuckers, y'all know what it is\n  start_ms: 274970\n  end_ms: 277470\n- text: I'll fuckin' slap the shit out of one of you motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 277470\n  end_ms: 281740\n- text: Y'all front on the Squad, man, y'all know what it is, man\n  start_ms: 281740\n  end_ms: 284770\n- text: 2003 Shit, motherfucker, aight? Oh, oh, oh yeah\n  start_ms: 284770\n  end_ms: 290770\n- text: For promotional use only\n  start_ms: 290770\n  end_ms: 301910\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 301910\nplain: |-\n  Woo! Friendly day in the neighborhood, hehe\n  Birds is chirpin' (Hi neighbor!) niggas walkin' they dogs\n  Haha, waterin' they flowers, that's my neighborhood\n  One, uh, I'm from the streets of the BX borough\n  Niggas packin' the Macs, this is that serve shit\n  Full Flex shit, Al Bo' shit, Raul, ya heard me?\n  Macho, Jigga Brown, JB, Charlie Rock, LD\n  Remy Ma, uh, sound boy turn this shit right here man\n  Yo, yo, yo\n\n  I'm your idol, your highest title, numero uno\n\n  Yes, I'm Puerto Rican and I speak it so that you know\n  Star, yeah, that's the idea\n\n  Leave niggas leakin' from ear to ear\n  Listen here, young bruh, man, your end is near\n  They probably find your body at the end of the pier\n  Niggas must be crazy to mistakin' me for folklore\n  I put the eighty to your baby, man, I told y'all\n\n  Ain't shit to me, niggas can't fuck with me\n  One, pull out the pipe or push your weight back\n\n  Ugh, you hate that, look, we stay strapped\n  A crook from way back that took the game back\n  You shook, remain fact, top of the world\n  Stop knockin' the girl, she in the drop\n  With Ready Roc lockin' the borough\n  Fishscale the her-on, live well from here on\n  Half a mill' in your grill, of course we bear arms\n  Niggas ain't shit, these rappers is worms\n  I pull up in they curb, pull a Desert Bird, uh\n  And clear the block in no time\n\n  Get off my dick, nigga, stop talkin' shit, get your own shine\n  Ma\n\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\n  You can catch me in a baby blue 600\n\n  With a can on my lap like, \"What bitch don't you get it?\"\n  This nigga in my passenger seat, that's just who I'm fuckin'\n\n  He's scared to roll my weed and get the dutches\n\n  Never mind the fact that he's a don 'cause it's really nothin'\n  Oh, now I'm really fuckin', you see my chain hang\n  You see the diamonds in my watch doin' they damn thing\n  So keep poppin' shit and poppin' champagne\n  I'ma pop in the clip and pop the thang-thang\n  The flow can't be stopped and won't be maintained\n  Dough super stacked, just copped the red Range\n  Untouchable, so fuck do you\n\n  I'm better than everybody in your whole fuckin' crew\n  That includes you, him, and her put together\n  So, what the fuck can you tell her?\n  Nothin', stop the dumb shit, Rem is hot\n  Come through stuntin' in a baby blue drop\n  Blowin' purple out the top, eyes red, bloodshot\n  Nothin' but green in my pocket, some brown in my wallet\n  I'ma mix with this blue that I got from Uptown\n  When I was pickin' up that white bird, Remy looked right, bitch\n\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\n  Ayo, dog, when I flash the Glock, it'll blast a cop\n  It's G-Dep 'til my casket drop\n\n  Whether you spittin' trash or not, bettin' cash or not\n  I'ma still spit acid hot\n  And niggas in that stretch 'cause my arms is strong\n  What you think you clappin' when your arms is gone?\n  I'll pop you, now your moms is gone\n  If it's on, it's on, I want cheese like Parmesan\n  Son, you can't calm the calm, I got enough to\n  Bomb Saddam, my shit rock from song to song\n  And Kid Rock from song to song\n  You's a fuckin' bitch and I see the thong it's on\n\n  Eight bless on the team, hit a body, the shit down\n  Fiends put the D in they body and sit down\n\n  See me doin' a buck thirty with the loud pipe\n\n  Terror Squad gettin' dirty, underground life\n\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\n  Yeah, it's DJ Kay Slay, a.k.a. Slap Your Favorite DJ\n  The black Fat Joe of the motherfuckin' game\n  Terror Squad, motherfuckers, y'all know what it is\n  I'll fuckin' slap the shit out of one of you motherfuckers\n  Y'all front on the Squad, man, y'all know what it is, man\n  2003 Shit, motherfucker, aight? Oh, oh, oh yeah\n  For promotional use only\n"},{"id":29873251,"name":"Everybody Wanna Shine (Clean Album Version)","trackName":"Everybody Wanna Shine (Clean Album Version)","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1","duration":196.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"DJ Kay Slay the drama king\nDrama baby\nYeah the bad guy\nWhat\nI got my nigga D-Dot with me\nAnd he got the bad boys with him\nBlack Rob\n\nToo many chiefs and no Indians\n\nNiggas wanna shine at the bar, sip remy and\nTwo piece denim attire, new Timberlands\nTry to wild out, remind me of them gremlins\nMe and mines roll in the cut, just like the Kremlin\n\nHalf of these so called players, I don't remember them\nIn case you didn't know, Bad Boy still the emblem\nFuck right it ain't all love, this ain't Wimbledon\n(All this frontin' is sickening)\nSo when I'm doing it fam, I'm so sure\nEverybody wanna shine without reading the brochure\nNow listen, pay close attention\nHow you eating good when you never had a maid in your kitchen\n\nYou wanna be Black Rob, then grind first\nNo Cris, no Mo, try sipping on wine first\nThen hit the dealer to purchase the Black Star\nMaybe you can be the next Kay Slay and Black Rob\n(Stars)\n\nYeah that's what I'm talking about\nEverybody wanna shine, but nobody wanna get in the grind man\nYo D-Dot, stand up baby, it's your turn\n\nYo, now get a handle on your scandal before I scramble and bust\nPause, sometimes I think y'all don't gamble enough\nY'all don't know when to fold and when to hold\nWhen you do plan to throw em, your hand is cold\nI got the touch like Midas, nigga\nGive rap your tie, you'll fry tryna try this nigga\nNow everybody wanna shine\nBut where was y'all at when I wanted to quarter all the niggas\n\nOkay now we balling, me, Mack, Slay, and the G lady\nJust put all that rap to the side cause we shady\nMe and Mack's sampling the sun, he like Grady\nMove to the Hamptons and son we see gravy\nI'm quite sure all of us carry a three eighty\nFor shizzle, I'll put you on ice and your three babies\nWhether the mic or the rifle y'all\nThese east side cats will come and do it right for y'all\n\nAyo I rhyme over Quanta G\nDiplomat plates on my RR, so I park for free\nOn the Westside or the FD\nWrote a letter to my senator, while the feds watching me\nNever expose myself or show signs of any wealth\nI was pretty much stealth and stayed to myself\nOnly talked to one cat and he ain't gon' squeal\nAnd I ain't got nothing til I close my deal\n\nYeah there's a lot of stunting going on this summer man\nY'all think y'all bad boys\nY'all ain't bad boys\nI got the real bad boys with me\nMack 10\n\nDon't know what you thought this was, we no little kiddies\nWe grown men now, established in big cities\nAnd Frank Nittys, I got those crime gestapos\nSopranos to Altos, from cops to Alpo\n\nSit back and eat a nacho and watch this nigga\nAs my story unfold like my couch do nigga\nMack's bigger than you thought you was\nAnd caught you cuz, with niggas like the army does\n\nSee Mack is a menace, a threat to y'all\nP flipped me a mill and I'm betting it all\nNow I'm Sugar Ray Leonard on tracks\nWith the jab and the hook that wrote the book so, cowboy just relax\nA vote for Mack is a vote for wanting it back\nTrust me God, everything you touched was crap\nAnd I should bust y'all just for that\nBut I'mma chill and fall back and listen to a murderous rap\nKay Slay\n\nYeah that's what I'm talking about baby\nThe Street Sweeper Volume 1, official\nTrue to the streets, true to the game\nTrue rappers, no fake shit man\nThis is authentic right here\nYo D-Dot, you did your thing baby\nThat's what I'm talking about\nRepresent Bad Boy to the fullest\n2003, What","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.37] DJ Kay Slay the drama king\n[00:05.45] Drama baby\n[00:06.26] Yeah the bad guy\n[00:07.46] What\n[00:07.85] I got my nigga D-Dot with me\n[00:09.56] And he got the bad boys with him\n[00:11.32] Black Rob\n[00:11.99] Too many chiefs and no Indians\n[00:14.23] Niggas wanna shine at the bar, sip remy and\n[00:16.65] Two piece denim attire, new Timberlands\n[00:19.05] Try to wild out, remind me of them gremlins\n[00:21.68] Me and mines roll in the cut, just like the Kremlin\n[00:24.23] Half of these so called players, I don't remember them\n[00:26.52] In case you didn't know, Bad Boy still the emblem\n[00:29.54] Fuck right it ain't all love, this ain't Wimbledon\n[00:31.30] (All this frontin' is sickening)\n[00:33.28] So when I'm doing it fam, I'm so sure\n[00:35.37] Everybody wanna shine without reading the brochure\n[00:38.02] Now listen, pay close attention\n[00:40.03] How you eating good when you never had a maid in your kitchen\n[00:43.42] You wanna be Black Rob, then grind first\n[00:45.51] No Cris, no Mo, try sipping on wine first\n[00:48.59] Then hit the dealer to purchase the Black Star\n[00:50.51] Maybe you can be the next Kay Slay and Black Rob\n[00:53.13] (Stars)\n[00:53.97] Yeah that's what I'm talking about\n[00:55.75] Everybody wanna shine, but nobody wanna get in the grind man\n[00:59.32] Yo D-Dot, stand up baby, it's your turn\n[01:02.62] Yo, now get a handle on your scandal before I scramble and bust\n[01:05.78] Pause, sometimes I think y'all don't gamble enough\n[01:08.40] Y'all don't know when to fold and when to hold\n[01:10.91] When you do plan to throw em, your hand is cold\n[01:13.23] I got the touch like Midas, nigga\n[01:15.37] Give rap your tie, you'll fry tryna try this nigga\n[01:19.06] Now everybody wanna shine\n[01:20.59] But where was y'all at when I wanted to quarter all the niggas\n[01:22.92] Okay now we balling, me, Mack, Slay, and the G lady\n[01:26.38] Just put all that rap to the side cause we shady\n[01:29.08] Me and Mack's sampling the sun, he like Grady\n[01:31.56] Move to the Hamptons and son we see gravy\n[01:33.83] I'm quite sure all of us carry a three eighty\n[01:36.33] For shizzle, I'll put you on ice and your three babies\n[01:39.34] Whether the mic or the rifle y'all\n[01:41.17] These east side cats will come and do it right for y'all\n[01:43.75] Ayo I rhyme over Quanta G\n[01:45.89] Diplomat plates on my RR, so I park for free\n[01:49.08] On the Westside or the FD\n[01:50.83] Wrote a letter to my senator, while the feds watching me\n[01:53.96] Never expose myself or show signs of any wealth\n[01:56.60] I was pretty much stealth and stayed to myself\n[01:59.17] Only talked to one cat and he ain't gon' squeal\n[02:01.98] And I ain't got nothing til I close my deal\n[02:05.01] Yeah there's a lot of stunting going on this summer man\n[02:08.27] Y'all think y'all bad boys\n[02:09.70] Y'all ain't bad boys\n[02:11.05] I got the real bad boys with me\n[02:13.34] Mack 10\n[02:13.85] Don't know what you thought this was, we no little kiddies\n[02:16.97] We grown men now, established in big cities\n[02:19.48] And Frank Nittys, I got those crime gestapos\n[02:22.24] Sopranos to Altos, from cops to Alpo\n[02:24.97] Sit back and eat a nacho and watch this nigga\n[02:27.07] As my story unfold like my couch do nigga\n[02:29.68] Mack's bigger than you thought you was\n[02:31.23] And caught you cuz, with niggas like the army does\n[02:34.14] See Mack is a menace, a threat to y'all\n[02:36.69] P flipped me a mill and I'm betting it all\n[02:39.06] Now I'm Sugar Ray Leonard on tracks\n[02:41.12] With the jab and the hook that wrote the book so, cowboy just relax\n[02:44.67] A vote for Mack is a vote for wanting it back\n[02:47.32] Trust me God, everything you touched was crap\n[02:49.76] And I should bust y'all just for that\n[02:51.70] But I'mma chill and fall back and listen to a murderous rap\n[02:54.97] Kay Slay\n[02:56.03] Yeah that's what I'm talking about baby\n[02:57.96] The Street Sweeper Volume 1, official\n[03:00.96] True to the streets, true to the game\n[03:03.21] True rappers, no fake shit man\n[03:05.59] This is authentic right here\n[03:07.13] Yo D-Dot, you did your thing baby\n[03:09.32] That's what I'm talking about\n[03:10.77] Represent Bad Boy to the fullest\n[03:13.12] 2003, What\n[03:16.22] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Everybody Wanna Shine (Clean Album Version)\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 196000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: DJ Kay Slay the drama king\n  start_ms: 3370\n  end_ms: 5450\n- text: Drama baby\n  start_ms: 5450\n  end_ms: 6260\n- text: Yeah the bad guy\n  start_ms: 6260\n  end_ms: 7460\n- text: What\n  start_ms: 7460\n  end_ms: 7850\n- text: I got my nigga D-Dot with me\n  start_ms: 7850\n  end_ms: 9560\n- text: And he got the bad boys with him\n  start_ms: 9560\n  end_ms: 11320\n- text: Black Rob\n  start_ms: 11320\n  end_ms: 11990\n- text: Too many chiefs and no Indians\n  start_ms: 11990\n  end_ms: 14230\n- text: Niggas wanna shine at the bar, sip remy and\n  start_ms: 14230\n  end_ms: 16650\n- text: Two piece denim attire, new Timberlands\n  start_ms: 16650\n  end_ms: 19050\n- text: Try to wild out, remind me of them gremlins\n  start_ms: 19050\n  end_ms: 21680\n- text: Me and mines roll in the cut, just like the Kremlin\n  start_ms: 21680\n  end_ms: 24230\n- text: Half of these so called players, I don't remember them\n  start_ms: 24230\n  end_ms: 26520\n- text: In case you didn't know, Bad Boy still the emblem\n  start_ms: 26520\n  end_ms: 29540\n- text: Fuck right it ain't all love, this ain't Wimbledon\n  start_ms: 29540\n  end_ms: 31300\n- text: (All this frontin' is sickening)\n  start_ms: 31300\n  end_ms: 33280\n- text: So when I'm doing it fam, I'm so sure\n  start_ms: 33280\n  end_ms: 35370\n- text: Everybody wanna shine without reading the brochure\n  start_ms: 35370\n  end_ms: 38020\n- text: Now listen, pay close attention\n  start_ms: 38020\n  end_ms: 40030\n- text: How you eating good when you never had a maid in your kitchen\n  start_ms: 40030\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: You wanna be Black Rob, then grind first\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 45510\n- 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the touch like Midas, nigga\n  start_ms: 73230\n  end_ms: 75370\n- text: Give rap your tie, you'll fry tryna try this nigga\n  start_ms: 75370\n  end_ms: 79060\n- text: Now everybody wanna shine\n  start_ms: 79060\n  end_ms: 80590\n- text: But where was y'all at when I wanted to quarter all the niggas\n  start_ms: 80590\n  end_ms: 82920\n- text: Okay now we balling, me, Mack, Slay, and the G lady\n  start_ms: 82920\n  end_ms: 86380\n- text: Just put all that rap to the side cause we shady\n  start_ms: 86380\n  end_ms: 89080\n- text: Me and Mack's sampling the sun, he like Grady\n  start_ms: 89080\n  end_ms: 91560\n- text: Move to the Hamptons and son we see gravy\n  start_ms: 91560\n  end_ms: 93830\n- text: I'm quite sure all of us carry a three eighty\n  start_ms: 93830\n  end_ms: 96330\n- text: For shizzle, I'll put you on ice and your three babies\n  start_ms: 96330\n  end_ms: 99340\n- text: Whether the mic or the rifle y'all\n  start_ms: 99340\n  end_ms: 101170\n- text: These east side cats will come and do it right for y'all\n  start_ms: 101170\n  end_ms: 103750\n- text: Ayo I rhyme over Quanta G\n  start_ms: 103750\n  end_ms: 105890\n- text: Diplomat plates on my RR, so I park for free\n  start_ms: 105890\n  end_ms: 109080\n- text: On the Westside or the FD\n  start_ms: 109080\n  end_ms: 110830\n- text: Wrote a letter to my senator, while the feds watching me\n  start_ms: 110830\n  end_ms: 113960\n- text: Never expose myself or show signs of any wealth\n  start_ms: 113960\n  end_ms: 116600\n- text: I was pretty much stealth and stayed to myself\n  start_ms: 116600\n  end_ms: 119170\n- text: Only talked to one cat and he ain't gon' squeal\n  start_ms: 119170\n  end_ms: 121980\n- text: And I ain't got nothing til I close my deal\n  start_ms: 121980\n  end_ms: 125010\n- text: Yeah there's a lot of stunting going on this summer man\n  start_ms: 125010\n  end_ms: 128270\n- text: Y'all think y'all bad boys\n  start_ms: 128270\n  end_ms: 129700\n- text: Y'all ain't bad boys\n  start_ms: 129700\n  end_ms: 131050\n- text: I got the real bad boys with me\n  start_ms: 131050\n  end_ms: 133340\n- text: Mack 10\n  start_ms: 133340\n  end_ms: 133850\n- text: Don't know what you thought this was, we no little kiddies\n  start_ms: 133850\n  end_ms: 136970\n- text: We grown men now, established in big cities\n  start_ms: 136970\n  end_ms: 139480\n- text: And Frank Nittys, I got those crime gestapos\n  start_ms: 139480\n  end_ms: 142240\n- text: Sopranos to Altos, from cops to Alpo\n  start_ms: 142240\n  end_ms: 144970\n- text: Sit back and eat a nacho and watch this nigga\n  start_ms: 144970\n  end_ms: 147070\n- text: As my story unfold like my couch do nigga\n  start_ms: 147070\n  end_ms: 149680\n- text: Mack's bigger than you thought you was\n  start_ms: 149680\n  end_ms: 151230\n- text: And caught you cuz, with niggas like the army does\n  start_ms: 151230\n  end_ms: 154140\n- text: See Mack is a menace, a threat to y'all\n  start_ms: 154140\n  end_ms: 156690\n- text: P flipped me a mill and I'm betting it all\n  start_ms: 156690\n  end_ms: 159060\n- text: Now I'm Sugar Ray Leonard on tracks\n  start_ms: 159060\n  end_ms: 161120\n- text: With the jab and the hook that wrote the book so, cowboy just relax\n  start_ms: 161120\n  end_ms: 164670\n- text: A vote for Mack is a vote for wanting it back\n  start_ms: 164670\n  end_ms: 167320\n- text: Trust me God, everything you touched was crap\n  start_ms: 167320\n  end_ms: 169760\n- text: And I should bust y'all just for that\n  start_ms: 169760\n  end_ms: 171700\n- text: But I'mma chill and fall back and listen to a murderous rap\n  start_ms: 171700\n  end_ms: 174970\n- text: Kay Slay\n  start_ms: 174970\n  end_ms: 176030\n- text: Yeah that's what I'm talking about baby\n  start_ms: 176030\n  end_ms: 177960\n- text: The Street Sweeper Volume 1, official\n  start_ms: 177960\n  end_ms: 180960\n- text: True to the streets, true to the game\n  start_ms: 180960\n  end_ms: 183210\n- text: True rappers, no fake shit man\n  start_ms: 183210\n  end_ms: 185590\n- text: This is authentic right here\n  start_ms: 185590\n  end_ms: 187130\n- text: Yo D-Dot, you did your thing baby\n  start_ms: 187130\n  end_ms: 189320\n- text: That's what I'm talking about\n  start_ms: 189320\n  end_ms: 190770\n- text: Represent Bad Boy to the fullest\n  start_ms: 190770\n  end_ms: 193120\n- text: 2003, What\n  start_ms: 193120\n  end_ms: 196220\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 196220\nplain: |-\n  DJ Kay Slay the drama king\n  Drama baby\n  Yeah the bad guy\n  What\n  I got my nigga D-Dot with me\n  And he got the bad boys with him\n  Black Rob\n\n  Too many chiefs and no Indians\n\n  Niggas wanna shine at the bar, sip remy and\n  Two piece denim attire, new Timberlands\n  Try to wild out, remind me of them gremlins\n  Me and mines roll in the cut, just like the Kremlin\n\n  Half of these so called players, I don't remember them\n  In case you didn't know, Bad Boy still the emblem\n  Fuck right it ain't all love, this ain't Wimbledon\n  (All this frontin' is sickening)\n  So when I'm doing it fam, I'm so sure\n  Everybody wanna shine without reading the brochure\n  Now listen, pay close attention\n  How you eating good when you never had a maid in your kitchen\n\n  You wanna be Black Rob, then grind first\n  No Cris, no Mo, try sipping on wine first\n  Then hit the dealer to purchase the Black Star\n  Maybe you can be the next Kay Slay and Black Rob\n  (Stars)\n\n  Yeah that's what I'm talking about\n  Everybody wanna shine, but nobody wanna get in the grind man\n  Yo D-Dot, stand up baby, it's your turn\n\n  Yo, now get a handle on your scandal before I scramble and bust\n  Pause, sometimes I think y'all don't gamble enough\n  Y'all don't know when to fold and when to hold\n  When you do plan to throw em, your hand is cold\n  I got the touch like Midas, nigga\n  Give rap your tie, you'll fry tryna try this nigga\n  Now everybody wanna shine\n  But where was y'all at when I wanted to quarter all the niggas\n\n  Okay now we balling, me, Mack, Slay, and the G lady\n  Just put all that rap to the side cause we shady\n  Me and Mack's sampling the sun, he like Grady\n  Move to the Hamptons and son we see gravy\n  I'm quite sure all of us carry a three eighty\n  For shizzle, I'll put you on ice and your three babies\n  Whether the mic or the rifle y'all\n  These east side cats will come and do it right for y'all\n\n  Ayo I rhyme over Quanta G\n  Diplomat plates on my RR, so I park for free\n  On the Westside or the FD\n  Wrote a letter to my senator, while the feds watching me\n  Never expose myself or show signs of any wealth\n  I was pretty much stealth and stayed to myself\n  Only talked to one cat and he ain't gon' squeal\n  And I ain't got nothing til I close my deal\n\n  Yeah there's a lot of stunting going on this summer man\n  Y'all think y'all bad boys\n  Y'all ain't bad boys\n  I got the real bad boys with me\n  Mack 10\n\n  Don't know what you thought this was, we no little kiddies\n  We grown men now, established in big cities\n  And Frank Nittys, I got those crime gestapos\n  Sopranos to Altos, from cops to Alpo\n\n  Sit back and eat a nacho and watch this nigga\n  As my story unfold like my couch do nigga\n  Mack's bigger than you thought you was\n  And caught you cuz, with niggas like the army does\n\n  See Mack is a menace, a threat to y'all\n  P flipped me a mill and I'm betting it all\n  Now I'm Sugar Ray Leonard on tracks\n  With the jab and the hook that wrote the book so, cowboy just relax\n  A vote for Mack is a vote for wanting it back\n  Trust me God, everything you touched was crap\n  And I should bust y'all just for that\n  But I'mma chill and fall back and listen to a murderous rap\n  Kay Slay\n\n  Yeah that's what I'm talking about baby\n  The Street Sweeper Volume 1, official\n  True to the streets, true to the game\n  True rappers, no fake shit man\n  This is authentic right here\n  Yo D-Dot, you did your thing baby\n  That's what I'm talking about\n  Represent Bad Boy to the fullest\n  2003, What\n"},{"id":30275673,"name":"I Got U","trackName":"I Got U","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Volume 1","duration":223.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bris-Style (Yeah)\nS.P (Uh-huh)\nI got you (I know, Brooklyn)\nIn more ways than you could imagine nigga\n\nYo, I'm major like the league, since a teen I supplied the fiends\nCrack, coke, dope, no consignment see\nTalkin' bout the music, please don't confuse it\nSo good, people all ages wanna use it\n\nWhite boys pullin' out nooses\nOn they own self, use it, yeah use it\nI'm tired of critics fussin'\nRather be in Costa Rica on the beach\nButt naked, 'bout to skeet somethin'\nBrooklyn, we got the need for nothin'\nGo 'head, send shots through your fleece\nOr somethin' for frontin'\n\nBrisbane put CL 6's\nHit the block, cause I got 37 longs, gone like Knickses\nWant a hot 16?\nI could give you a verse or got a 9 that spit hot 16\nFrontin' like I got a high school team\nI'm on the strip spittin' verses\nThis how I live my life\n\nBet a hundred thousand you won't roll 6 on them dice\nIf you want, you can raise the price\nBefore that, all I did in the hood was heist\nCock suckers\n\nCovered with a pist-al\n'Bout to make this shit wild\nWhere my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\nTakin' off everything\nThe chain and the coat\nAnd the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\nLayin' in the hospital\nWires on top of you\nAnd I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n\nBuckin' at your enemies\nSuckin' on Hennessy\nFuckin' with the Kennedy's\n\nYo, it's Bris-Style and Styles P\nIn the crib, we keep O's in the front\nAnd the back like a Audi\n\nDon't come around me\n\nGivin' fake daps, fake hugs, fake love\nI'mma show you a real thug\nI'mma put 'em in they place\n\nTake it back to '83\nStart punchin' niggas in the face\nNow they lookin' for God like Ma$e\nWhen they worship the devil\nRun and get your medal, you don't own no iron\nDon't come with a aluminum bat\nI put two in them cats\nI'm familiar with the white whale, Martel\n\nNot Jordan cause he fell, gettin' knocked, Carmel\nMake bail, but see, Bris never tell\n\nNigga I'll fight your pops, not for props\nYou the type to run in the crib and call the cops\nHops imitator, I'm like a senate ticket to the hole\nPenetrator, don't believe in hatin' the haters\n\nI'mma find 'em, kill 'em, peel 'em\nWalk on 'em like gators\nThen extort your neighbors, Bris-Style, Styles P\nLox and Kennedy's don't need fuckin' favors\n\nCovered with a pist-al\n'Bout to make this shit wild\nWhere my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\nTakin' off everything\nThe chain and the coat\nAnd the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\nLayin' in the hospital\nWires on top of you\nAnd I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n\nBuckin' at your enemies\nSuckin' on Hennessy\nFuckin' with the Kennedy's\n\nCovered with a pist-al\n'Bout to make this shit wild\nWhere my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\nTakin' off everything\nThe chain and the coat\nAnd the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\nLayin' in the hospital\nWires on top of you\nAnd I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n\nBuckin' at your enemies\nSuckin' on Hennessy\nFuckin' with the Kennedy's\n\nFrom Brooklyn, to Yonkers\nTo wherever the fuck we at\nThe alley, industry party, club, hood\nI got you, always remember that\nYou might be aight, but you ain't never safe\n'Cause I got you\nNo tellin' what I'mma get you with neither\nSomethin' big, 17 or more\nYou know, I got you\nBlaow!\n\nWe out Bris\nOne","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.43] Bris-Style (Yeah)\n[00:04.01] S.P (Uh-huh)\n[00:06.17] I got you (I know, Brooklyn)\n[00:08.49] In more ways than you could imagine nigga\n[00:10.69] Yo, I'm major like the league, since a teen I supplied the fiends\n[00:14.09] Crack, coke, dope, no consignment see\n[00:16.33] Talkin' bout the music, please don't confuse it\n[00:19.13] So good, people all ages wanna use it\n[00:21.88] White boys pullin' out nooses\n[00:23.85] On they own self, use it, yeah use it\n[00:26.64] I'm tired of critics fussin'\n[00:28.10] Rather be in Costa Rica on the beach\n[00:30.29] Butt naked, 'bout to skeet somethin'\n[00:31.92] Brooklyn, we got the need for nothin'\n[00:34.38] Go 'head, send shots through your fleece\n[00:36.16] Or somethin' for frontin'\n[00:37.62] Brisbane put CL 6's\n[00:39.61] Hit the block, cause I got 37 longs, gone like Knickses\n[00:43.02] Want a hot 16?\n[00:44.99] I could give you a verse or got a 9 that spit hot 16\n[00:48.47] Frontin' like I got a high school team\n[00:50.25] I'm on the strip spittin' verses\n[00:52.14] This how I live my life\n[00:53.71] Bet a hundred thousand you won't roll 6 on them dice\n[00:56.45] If you want, you can raise the price\n[00:58.20] Before that, all I did in the hood was heist\n[01:01.08] Cock suckers\n[01:03.46] Covered with a pist-al\n[01:04.79] 'Bout to make this shit wild\n[01:06.14] Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\n[01:08.89] Takin' off everything\n[01:09.93] The chain and the coat\n[01:11.26] And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\n[01:14.26] Layin' in the hospital\n[01:15.51] Wires on top of you\n[01:16.96] And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n[01:19.55] Buckin' at your enemies\n[01:20.94] Suckin' on Hennessy\n[01:22.38] Fuckin' with the Kennedy's\n[01:23.54] Yo, it's Bris-Style and Styles P\n[01:24.79] In the crib, we keep O's in the front\n[01:26.72] And the back like a Audi\n[01:28.74] Don't come around me\n[01:30.08] Givin' fake daps, fake hugs, fake love\n[01:32.55] I'mma show you a real thug\n[01:34.13] I'mma put 'em in they place\n[01:36.03] Take it back to '83\n[01:37.48] Start punchin' niggas in the face\n[01:39.05] Now they lookin' for God like Ma$e\n[01:40.85] When they worship the devil\n[01:42.57] Run and get your medal, you don't own no iron\n[01:44.92] Don't come with a aluminum bat\n[01:46.71] I put two in them cats\n[01:48.21] I'm familiar with the white whale, Martel\n[01:50.64] Not Jordan cause he fell, gettin' knocked, Carmel\n[01:53.26] Make bail, but see, Bris never tell\n[01:55.92] Nigga I'll fight your pops, not for props\n[01:58.32] You the type to run in the crib and call the cops\n[02:00.93] Hops imitator, I'm like a senate ticket to the hole\n[02:03.91] Penetrator, don't believe in hatin' the haters\n[02:06.37] I'mma find 'em, kill 'em, peel 'em\n[02:08.32] Walk on 'em like gators\n[02:09.63] Then extort your neighbors, Bris-Style, Styles P\n[02:12.33] Lox and Kennedy's don't need fuckin' favors\n[02:16.08] Covered with a pist-al\n[02:17.45] 'Bout to make this shit wild\n[02:18.89] Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\n[02:21.44] Takin' off everything\n[02:22.69] The chain and the coat\n[02:23.97] And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\n[02:26.88] Layin' in the hospital\n[02:28.18] Wires on top of you\n[02:29.60] And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n[02:32.23] Buckin' at your enemies\n[02:33.67] Suckin' on Hennessy\n[02:34.96] Fuckin' with the Kennedy's\n[02:36.76] Covered with a pist-al\n[02:38.92] 'Bout to make this shit wild\n[02:40.34] Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\n[02:42.93] Takin' off everything\n[02:44.17] The chain and the coat\n[02:45.41] And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\n[02:48.45] Layin' in the hospital\n[02:49.68] Wires on top of you\n[02:51.13] And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n[02:53.79] Buckin' at your enemies\n[02:55.15] Suckin' on Hennessy\n[02:56.46] Fuckin' with the Kennedy's\n[02:59.51] From Brooklyn, to Yonkers\n[03:02.68] To wherever the fuck we at\n[03:04.27] The alley, industry party, club, hood\n[03:08.29] I got you, always remember that\n[03:12.41] You might be aight, but you ain't never safe\n[03:16.90] 'Cause I got you\n[03:19.22] No tellin' what I'mma get you with neither\n[03:22.09] Somethin' big, 17 or more\n[03:26.56] You know, I got you\n[03:29.82] Blaow!\n[03:34.03] We out Bris\n[03:36.35] One\n[03:43.39] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: I Got U\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Volume 1\n  duration_ms: 223000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bris-Style (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 1430\n  end_ms: 4010\n- text: S.P (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 4010\n  end_ms: 6170\n- text: I got you (I know, Brooklyn)\n  start_ms: 6170\n  end_ms: 8490\n- text: In more ways than you could imagine nigga\n  start_ms: 8490\n  end_ms: 10690\n- text: Yo, I'm major like the league, since a teen I supplied the fiends\n  start_ms: 10690\n  end_ms: 14090\n- text: Crack, coke, dope, no consignment see\n  start_ms: 14090\n  end_ms: 16330\n- text: Talkin' bout the music, please don't confuse it\n  start_ms: 16330\n  end_ms: 19130\n- text: So good, people all ages wanna use it\n  start_ms: 19130\n  end_ms: 21880\n- text: White boys pullin' out nooses\n  start_ms: 21880\n  end_ms: 23850\n- text: On they own self, use it, yeah use it\n  start_ms: 23850\n  end_ms: 26640\n- text: I'm tired of critics fussin'\n  start_ms: 26640\n  end_ms: 28100\n- text: Rather be in Costa Rica on the beach\n  start_ms: 28100\n  end_ms: 30290\n- text: Butt naked, 'bout to skeet somethin'\n  start_ms: 30290\n  end_ms: 31920\n- text: Brooklyn, we got the need for nothin'\n  start_ms: 31920\n  end_ms: 34380\n- text: Go 'head, send shots through your fleece\n  start_ms: 34380\n  end_ms: 36160\n- text: Or somethin' for frontin'\n  start_ms: 36160\n  end_ms: 37620\n- text: Brisbane put CL 6's\n  start_ms: 37620\n  end_ms: 39610\n- text: Hit the block, cause I got 37 longs, gone like Knickses\n  start_ms: 39610\n  end_ms: 43020\n- text: Want a hot 16?\n  start_ms: 43020\n  end_ms: 44990\n- text: I could give you a verse or got a 9 that spit hot 16\n  start_ms: 44990\n  end_ms: 48470\n- text: Frontin' like I got a high school team\n  start_ms: 48470\n  end_ms: 50250\n- text: I'm on the strip spittin' verses\n  start_ms: 50250\n  end_ms: 52140\n- text: This how I live my life\n  start_ms: 52140\n  end_ms: 53710\n- text: Bet a hundred thousand you won't roll 6 on them dice\n  start_ms: 53710\n  end_ms: 56450\n- text: If you want, you can raise the price\n  start_ms: 56450\n  end_ms: 58200\n- text: Before that, all I did in the hood was heist\n  start_ms: 58200\n  end_ms: 61080\n- text: Cock suckers\n  start_ms: 61080\n  end_ms: 63460\n- text: Covered with a pist-al\n  start_ms: 63460\n  end_ms: 64790\n- text: '''Bout to make this shit wild'\n  start_ms: 64790\n  end_ms: 66140\n- text: Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\n  start_ms: 66140\n  end_ms: 68890\n- text: Takin' off everything\n  start_ms: 68890\n  end_ms: 69930\n- text: The chain and the coat\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 71260\n- text: And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\n  start_ms: 71260\n  end_ms: 74260\n- text: Layin' in the hospital\n  start_ms: 74260\n  end_ms: 75510\n- text: Wires on top of you\n  start_ms: 75510\n  end_ms: 76960\n- text: And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n  start_ms: 76960\n  end_ms: 79550\n- text: Buckin' at your enemies\n  start_ms: 79550\n  end_ms: 80940\n- text: Suckin' on Hennessy\n  start_ms: 80940\n  end_ms: 82380\n- text: Fuckin' with the Kennedy's\n  start_ms: 82380\n  end_ms: 83540\n- text: Yo, it's Bris-Style and Styles P\n  start_ms: 83540\n  end_ms: 84790\n- text: In the crib, we keep O's in the front\n  start_ms: 84790\n  end_ms: 86720\n- text: And the back like a Audi\n  start_ms: 86720\n  end_ms: 88740\n- text: Don't come around me\n  start_ms: 88740\n  end_ms: 90080\n- text: Givin' fake daps, fake hugs, fake love\n  start_ms: 90080\n  end_ms: 92550\n- text: I'mma show you a real thug\n  start_ms: 92550\n  end_ms: 94130\n- text: I'mma put 'em in they place\n  start_ms: 94130\n  end_ms: 96030\n- text: Take it back to '83\n  start_ms: 96030\n  end_ms: 97480\n- text: Start punchin' niggas in the face\n  start_ms: 97480\n  end_ms: 99050\n- text: Now they lookin' for God like Ma$e\n  start_ms: 99050\n  end_ms: 100850\n- text: When they worship the devil\n  start_ms: 100850\n  end_ms: 102570\n- text: Run and get your medal, you don't own no iron\n  start_ms: 102570\n  end_ms: 104920\n- text: Don't come with a aluminum bat\n  start_ms: 104920\n  end_ms: 106710\n- text: I put two in them cats\n  start_ms: 106710\n  end_ms: 108210\n- text: I'm familiar with the white whale, Martel\n  start_ms: 108210\n  end_ms: 110640\n- text: Not Jordan cause he fell, gettin' knocked, Carmel\n  start_ms: 110640\n  end_ms: 113260\n- text: Make bail, but see, Bris never tell\n  start_ms: 113260\n  end_ms: 115920\n- text: Nigga I'll fight your pops, not for props\n  start_ms: 115920\n  end_ms: 118320\n- text: You the type to run in the crib and call the cops\n  start_ms: 118320\n  end_ms: 120930\n- text: Hops imitator, I'm like a senate ticket to the hole\n  start_ms: 120930\n  end_ms: 123910\n- text: Penetrator, don't believe in hatin' the haters\n  start_ms: 123910\n  end_ms: 126370\n- text: I'mma find 'em, kill 'em, peel 'em\n  start_ms: 126370\n  end_ms: 128320\n- text: Walk on 'em like gators\n  start_ms: 128320\n  end_ms: 129630\n- text: Then extort your neighbors, Bris-Style, Styles P\n  start_ms: 129630\n  end_ms: 132330\n- text: Lox and Kennedy's don't need fuckin' favors\n  start_ms: 132330\n  end_ms: 136080\n- text: Covered with a pist-al\n  start_ms: 136080\n  end_ms: 137450\n- text: '''Bout to make this shit wild'\n  start_ms: 137450\n  end_ms: 138890\n- text: Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\n  start_ms: 138890\n  end_ms: 141440\n- text: Takin' off everything\n  start_ms: 141440\n  end_ms: 142690\n- text: The chain and the coat\n  start_ms: 142690\n  end_ms: 143970\n- text: And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\n  start_ms: 143970\n  end_ms: 146880\n- text: Layin' in the hospital\n  start_ms: 146880\n  end_ms: 148180\n- text: Wires on top of you\n  start_ms: 148180\n  end_ms: 149600\n- text: And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n  start_ms: 149600\n  end_ms: 152230\n- text: Buckin' at your enemies\n  start_ms: 152230\n  end_ms: 153670\n- text: Suckin' on Hennessy\n  start_ms: 153670\n  end_ms: 154960\n- text: Fuckin' with the Kennedy's\n  start_ms: 154960\n  end_ms: 156760\n- text: Covered with a pist-al\n  start_ms: 156760\n  end_ms: 158920\n- text: '''Bout to make this shit wild'\n  start_ms: 158920\n  end_ms: 160340\n- text: Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\n  start_ms: 160340\n  end_ms: 162930\n- text: Takin' off everything\n  start_ms: 162930\n  end_ms: 164170\n- text: The chain and the coat\n  start_ms: 164170\n  end_ms: 165410\n- text: And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\n  start_ms: 165410\n  end_ms: 168450\n- text: Layin' in the hospital\n  start_ms: 168450\n  end_ms: 169680\n- text: Wires on top of you\n  start_ms: 169680\n  end_ms: 171130\n- text: And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n  start_ms: 171130\n  end_ms: 173790\n- text: Buckin' at your enemies\n  start_ms: 173790\n  end_ms: 175150\n- text: Suckin' on Hennessy\n  start_ms: 175150\n  end_ms: 176460\n- text: Fuckin' with the Kennedy's\n  start_ms: 176460\n  end_ms: 179510\n- text: From Brooklyn, to Yonkers\n  start_ms: 179510\n  end_ms: 182680\n- text: To wherever the fuck we at\n  start_ms: 182680\n  end_ms: 184270\n- text: The alley, industry party, club, hood\n  start_ms: 184270\n  end_ms: 188290\n- text: I got you, always remember that\n  start_ms: 188290\n  end_ms: 192410\n- text: You might be aight, but you ain't never safe\n  start_ms: 192410\n  end_ms: 196900\n- text: '''Cause I got you'\n  start_ms: 196900\n  end_ms: 199220\n- text: No tellin' what I'mma get you with neither\n  start_ms: 199220\n  end_ms: 202090\n- text: Somethin' big, 17 or more\n  start_ms: 202090\n  end_ms: 206560\n- text: You know, I got you\n  start_ms: 206560\n  end_ms: 209820\n- text: Blaow!\n  start_ms: 209820\n  end_ms: 214030\n- text: We out Bris\n  start_ms: 214030\n  end_ms: 216350\n- text: One\n  start_ms: 216350\n  end_ms: 223390\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 223390\nplain: |-\n  Bris-Style (Yeah)\n  S.P (Uh-huh)\n  I got you (I know, Brooklyn)\n  In more ways than you could imagine nigga\n\n  Yo, I'm major like the league, since a teen I supplied the fiends\n  Crack, coke, dope, no consignment see\n  Talkin' bout the music, please don't confuse it\n  So good, people all ages wanna use it\n\n  White boys pullin' out nooses\n  On they own self, use it, yeah use it\n  I'm tired of critics fussin'\n  Rather be in Costa Rica on the beach\n  Butt naked, 'bout to skeet somethin'\n  Brooklyn, we got the need for nothin'\n  Go 'head, send shots through your fleece\n  Or somethin' for frontin'\n\n  Brisbane put CL 6's\n  Hit the block, cause I got 37 longs, gone like Knickses\n  Want a hot 16?\n  I could give you a verse or got a 9 that spit hot 16\n  Frontin' like I got a high school team\n  I'm on the strip spittin' verses\n  This how I live my life\n\n  Bet a hundred thousand you won't roll 6 on them dice\n  If you want, you can raise the price\n  Before that, all I did in the hood was heist\n  Cock suckers\n\n  Covered with a pist-al\n  'Bout to make this shit wild\n  Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\n  Takin' off everything\n  The chain and the coat\n  And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\n  Layin' in the hospital\n  Wires on top of you\n  And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n\n  Buckin' at your enemies\n  Suckin' on Hennessy\n  Fuckin' with the Kennedy's\n\n  Yo, it's Bris-Style and Styles P\n  In the crib, we keep O's in the front\n  And the back like a Audi\n\n  Don't come around me\n\n  Givin' fake daps, fake hugs, fake love\n  I'mma show you a real thug\n  I'mma put 'em in they place\n\n  Take it back to '83\n  Start punchin' niggas in the face\n  Now they lookin' for God like Ma$e\n  When they worship the devil\n  Run and get your medal, you don't own no iron\n  Don't come with a aluminum bat\n  I put two in them cats\n  I'm familiar with the white whale, Martel\n\n  Not Jordan cause he fell, gettin' knocked, Carmel\n  Make bail, but see, Bris never tell\n\n  Nigga I'll fight your pops, not for props\n  You the type to run in the crib and call the cops\n  Hops imitator, I'm like a senate ticket to the hole\n  Penetrator, don't believe in hatin' the haters\n\n  I'mma find 'em, kill 'em, peel 'em\n  Walk on 'em like gators\n  Then extort your neighbors, Bris-Style, Styles P\n  Lox and Kennedy's don't need fuckin' favors\n\n  Covered with a pist-al\n  'Bout to make this shit wild\n  Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\n  Takin' off everything\n  The chain and the coat\n  And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\n  Layin' in the hospital\n  Wires on top of you\n  And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n\n  Buckin' at your enemies\n  Suckin' on Hennessy\n  Fuckin' with the Kennedy's\n\n  Covered with a pist-al\n  'Bout to make this shit wild\n  Where my nigga Bris-Style? (Where you at Bris?)\n  Takin' off everything\n  The chain and the coat\n  And the watch and the heavy ring (Let's go)\n  Layin' in the hospital\n  Wires on top of you\n  And I'm 'bout to chopper you (What up?)\n\n  Buckin' at your enemies\n  Suckin' on Hennessy\n  Fuckin' with the Kennedy's\n\n  From Brooklyn, to Yonkers\n  To wherever the fuck we at\n  The alley, industry party, club, hood\n  I got you, always remember that\n  You might be aight, but you ain't never safe\n  'Cause I got you\n  No tellin' what I'mma get you with neither\n  Somethin' big, 17 or more\n  You know, I got you\n  Blaow!\n\n  We out Bris\n  One\n"},{"id":29894779,"name":"Take a Look at My Life (remix)","trackName":"Take a Look at My Life (remix)","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Volume 1","duration":302.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Woo! Friendly day in the neighborhood, hehe\nBirds is chirpin' (Hi neighbor!) niggas walkin' they dogs\nHaha, waterin' they flowers, that's my neighborhood\nOne, uh, I'm from the streets of the BX borough\nNiggas packin' the Macs, this is that serve shit\nFull Flex shit, Al Bo' shit, Raul, ya heard me?\nMacho, Jigga Brown, JB, Charlie Rock, LD\nRemy Ma, uh, sound boy turn this shit right here man\nYo, yo, yo\n\nI'm your idol, your highest title, numero uno\n\nYes, I'm Puerto Rican and I speak it so that you know\nStar, yeah, that's the idea\n\nLeave niggas leakin' from ear to ear\nListen here, young bruh, man, your end is near\nThey probably find your body at the end of the pier\nNiggas must be crazy to mistakin' me for folklore\nI put the eighty to your baby, man, I told y'all\n\nAin't shit to me, niggas can't fuck with me\nOne, pull out the pipe or push your weight back\n\nUgh, you hate that, look, we stay strapped\nA crook from way back that took the game back\nYou shook, remain fact, top of the world\nStop knockin' the girl, she in the drop\nWith Ready Roc lockin' the borough\nFishscale the her-on, live well from here on\nHalf a mill' in your grill, of course we bear arms\nNiggas ain't shit, these rappers is worms\nI pull up in they curb, pull a Desert Bird, uh\nAnd clear the block in no time\n\nGet off my dick, nigga, stop talkin' shit, get your own shine\nMa\n\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\nYou can catch me in a baby blue 600\n\nWith a can on my lap like, \"What bitch don't you get it?\"\nThis nigga in my passenger seat, that's just who I'm fuckin'\n\nHe's scared to roll my weed and get the dutches\n\nNever mind the fact that he's a don 'cause it's really nothin'\nOh, now I'm really fuckin', you see my chain hang\nYou see the diamonds in my watch doin' they damn thing\nSo keep poppin' shit and poppin' champagne\nI'ma pop in the clip and pop the thang-thang\nThe flow can't be stopped and won't be maintained\nDough super stacked, just copped the red Range\nUntouchable, so fuck do you\n\nI'm better than everybody in your whole fuckin' crew\nThat includes you, him, and her put together\nSo, what the fuck can you tell her?\nNothin', stop the dumb shit, Rem is hot\nCome through stuntin' in a baby blue drop\nBlowin' purple out the top, eyes red, bloodshot\nNothin' but green in my pocket, some brown in my wallet\nI'ma mix with this blue that I got from Uptown\nWhen I was pickin' up that white bird, Remy looked right, bitch\n\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\nAyo, dog, when I flash the Glock, it'll blast a cop\nIt's G-Dep 'til my casket drop\n\nWhether you spittin' trash or not, bettin' cash or not\nI'ma still spit acid hot\nAnd niggas in that stretch 'cause my arms is strong\nWhat you think you clappin' when your arms is gone?\nI'll pop you, now your moms is gone\nIf it's on, it's on, I want cheese like Parmesan\nSon, you can't calm the calm, I got enough to\nBomb Saddam, my shit rock from song to song\nAnd Kid Rock from song to song\nYou's a fuckin' bitch and I see the thong it's on\n\nEight bless on the team, hit a body, the shit down\nFiends put the D in they body and sit down\n\nSee me doin' a buck thirty with the loud pipe\n\nTerror Squad gettin' dirty, underground life\n\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\nTake a look at my life and you can see that\nI'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\nY'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\nJust stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\nYeah, it's DJ Kay Slay, a.k.a. Slap Your Favorite DJ\nThe black Fat Joe of the motherfuckin' game\nTerror Squad, motherfuckers, y'all know what it is\nI'll fuckin' slap the shit out of one of you motherfuckers\nY'all front on the Squad, man, y'all know what it is, man\n2003 Shit, motherfucker, aight? Oh, oh, oh yeah\nFor promotional use only","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.34] Woo! Friendly day in the neighborhood, hehe\n[00:09.16] Birds is chirpin' (Hi neighbor!) niggas walkin' they dogs\n[00:14.37] Haha, waterin' they flowers, that's my neighborhood\n[00:19.30] One, uh, I'm from the streets of the BX borough\n[00:23.58] Niggas packin' the Macs, this is that serve shit\n[00:27.92] Full Flex shit, Al Bo' shit, Raul, ya heard me?\n[00:32.02] Macho, Jigga Brown, JB, Charlie Rock, LD\n[00:36.18] Remy Ma, uh, sound boy turn this shit right here man\n[00:39.88] Yo, yo, yo\n[00:41.90] I'm your idol, your highest title, numero uno\n[00:45.10] Yes, I'm Puerto Rican and I speak it so that you know\n[00:47.96] Star, yeah, that's the idea\n[00:50.73] Leave niggas leakin' from ear to ear\n[00:53.36] Listen here, young bruh, man, your end is near\n[00:55.82] They probably find your body at the end of the pier\n[00:58.95] Niggas must be crazy to mistakin' me for folklore\n[01:02.35] I put the eighty to your baby, man, I told y'all\n[01:05.18] Ain't shit to me, niggas can't fuck with me\n[01:07.47] One, pull out the pipe or push your weight back\n[01:10.46] Ugh, you hate that, look, we stay strapped\n[01:13.08] A crook from way back that took the game back\n[01:15.86] You shook, remain fact, top of the world\n[01:18.32] Stop knockin' the girl, she in the drop\n[01:20.21] With Ready Roc lockin' the borough\n[01:22.15] Fishscale the her-on, live well from here on\n[01:25.04] Half a mill' in your grill, of course we bear arms\n[01:27.88] Niggas ain't shit, these rappers is worms\n[01:30.05] I pull up in they curb, pull a Desert Bird, uh\n[01:33.39] And clear the block in no time\n[01:35.32] Get off my dick, nigga, stop talkin' shit, get your own shine\n[01:38.58] Ma\n[01:39.13] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[01:41.88] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[01:44.65] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[01:47.43] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[01:50.47] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[01:53.17] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[01:55.95] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[01:58.76] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[02:01.06] You can catch me in a baby blue 600\n[02:01.95] With a can on my lap like, \"What bitch don't you get it?\"\n[02:04.76] This nigga in my passenger seat, that's just who I'm fuckin'\n[02:07.22] He's scared to roll my weed and get the dutches\n[02:10.00] Never mind the fact that he's a don 'cause it's really nothin'\n[02:12.73] Oh, now I'm really fuckin', you see my chain hang\n[02:15.75] You see the diamonds in my watch doin' they damn thing\n[02:18.14] So keep poppin' shit and poppin' champagne\n[02:20.88] I'ma pop in the clip and pop the thang-thang\n[02:23.73] The flow can't be stopped and won't be maintained\n[02:26.72] Dough super stacked, just copped the red Range\n[02:29.64] Untouchable, so fuck do you\n[02:32.20] I'm better than everybody in your whole fuckin' crew\n[02:34.98] That includes you, him, and her put together\n[02:37.98] So, what the fuck can you tell her?\n[02:40.63] Nothin', stop the dumb shit, Rem is hot\n[02:43.44] Come through stuntin' in a baby blue drop\n[02:46.12] Blowin' purple out the top, eyes red, bloodshot\n[02:49.01] Nothin' but green in my pocket, some brown in my wallet\n[02:51.99] I'ma mix with this blue that I got from Uptown\n[02:54.51] When I was pickin' up that white bird, Remy looked right, bitch\n[02:58.23] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[03:00.87] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[03:03.75] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[03:06.52] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[03:09.52] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[03:12.18] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[03:15.09] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[03:17.70] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[03:20.03] Ayo, dog, when I flash the Glock, it'll blast a cop\n[03:23.56] It's G-Dep 'til my casket drop\n[03:25.96] Whether you spittin' trash or not, bettin' cash or not\n[03:29.39] I'ma still spit acid hot\n[03:31.42] And niggas in that stretch 'cause my arms is strong\n[03:34.38] What you think you clappin' when your arms is gone?\n[03:36.98] I'll pop you, now your moms is gone\n[03:39.36] If it's on, it's on, I want cheese like Parmesan\n[03:42.73] Son, you can't calm the calm, I got enough to\n[03:45.53] Bomb Saddam, my shit rock from song to song\n[03:48.54] And Kid Rock from song to song\n[03:50.87] You's a fuckin' bitch and I see the thong it's on\n[03:54.15] Eight bless on the team, hit a body, the shit down\n[03:57.19] Fiends put the D in they body and sit down\n[04:00.08] See me doin' a buck thirty with the loud pipe\n[04:03.13] Terror Squad gettin' dirty, underground life\n[04:05.96] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[04:08.60] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[04:11.47] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[04:14.28] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[04:17.21] Take a look at my life and you can see that\n[04:19.97] I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n[04:22.70] Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n[04:25.55] Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n[04:28.74] Yeah, it's DJ Kay Slay, a.k.a. Slap Your Favorite DJ\n[04:32.46] The black Fat Joe of the motherfuckin' game\n[04:34.97] Terror Squad, motherfuckers, y'all know what it is\n[04:37.47] I'll fuckin' slap the shit out of one of you motherfuckers\n[04:41.74] Y'all front on the Squad, man, y'all know what it is, man\n[04:44.77] 2003 Shit, motherfucker, aight? Oh, oh, oh yeah\n[04:50.77] For promotional use only\n[05:01.91] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Take a Look at My Life (remix)\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Volume 1\n  duration_ms: 302000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Woo! Friendly day in the neighborhood, hehe\n  start_ms: 3340\n  end_ms: 9160\n- text: Birds is chirpin' (Hi neighbor!) niggas walkin' they dogs\n  start_ms: 9160\n  end_ms: 14370\n- text: Haha, waterin' they flowers, that's my neighborhood\n  start_ms: 14370\n  end_ms: 19300\n- text: One, uh, I'm from the streets of the BX borough\n  start_ms: 19300\n  end_ms: 23580\n- text: Niggas packin' the Macs, this is that serve shit\n  start_ms: 23580\n  end_ms: 27920\n- text: Full Flex shit, Al Bo' shit, Raul, ya heard me?\n  start_ms: 27920\n  end_ms: 32020\n- text: Macho, Jigga Brown, JB, Charlie Rock, LD\n  start_ms: 32020\n  end_ms: 36180\n- text: Remy Ma, uh, sound boy turn this shit right here man\n  start_ms: 36180\n  end_ms: 39880\n- text: Yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 39880\n  end_ms: 41900\n- text: I'm your idol, your highest title, numero uno\n  start_ms: 41900\n  end_ms: 45100\n- text: Yes, I'm Puerto Rican and I speak it so that you know\n  start_ms: 45100\n  end_ms: 47960\n- text: Star, yeah, that's the idea\n  start_ms: 47960\n  end_ms: 50730\n- text: Leave niggas leakin' from ear to ear\n  start_ms: 50730\n  end_ms: 53360\n- text: Listen here, young bruh, man, your end is near\n  start_ms: 53360\n  end_ms: 55820\n- text: They probably find your body at the end of the pier\n  start_ms: 55820\n  end_ms: 58950\n- text: Niggas must be crazy to mistakin' me for folklore\n  start_ms: 58950\n  end_ms: 62350\n- text: I put the eighty to your baby, man, I told y'all\n  start_ms: 62350\n  end_ms: 65180\n- text: Ain't shit to me, niggas can't fuck with me\n  start_ms: 65180\n  end_ms: 67470\n- text: One, pull out the pipe or push your weight back\n  start_ms: 67470\n  end_ms: 70460\n- text: Ugh, you hate that, look, we stay strapped\n  start_ms: 70460\n  end_ms: 73080\n- text: A crook from way back that took the game back\n  start_ms: 73080\n  end_ms: 75860\n- text: You shook, remain fact, top of the world\n  start_ms: 75860\n  end_ms: 78320\n- text: Stop knockin' the girl, she in the drop\n  start_ms: 78320\n  end_ms: 80210\n- text: With Ready Roc lockin' the borough\n  start_ms: 80210\n  end_ms: 82150\n- text: Fishscale the her-on, live well from here on\n  start_ms: 82150\n  end_ms: 85040\n- text: Half a mill' in your grill, of course we bear arms\n  start_ms: 85040\n  end_ms: 87880\n- text: Niggas ain't shit, these rappers is worms\n  start_ms: 87880\n  end_ms: 90050\n- text: I pull up in they curb, pull a Desert Bird, uh\n  start_ms: 90050\n  end_ms: 93390\n- text: And clear the block in no time\n  start_ms: 93390\n  end_ms: 95320\n- text: Get off my dick, nigga, stop talkin' shit, get your own shine\n  start_ms: 95320\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: Ma\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 99130\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 99130\n  end_ms: 101880\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 101880\n  end_ms: 104650\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 104650\n  end_ms: 107430\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 107430\n  end_ms: 110470\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 110470\n  end_ms: 113170\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 113170\n  end_ms: 115950\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 115950\n  end_ms: 118760\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 118760\n  end_ms: 121060\n- text: You can catch me in a baby blue 600\n  start_ms: 121060\n  end_ms: 121950\n- text: With a can on my lap like, \"What bitch don't you get it?\"\n  start_ms: 121950\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: This nigga in my passenger seat, that's just who I'm fuckin'\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127220\n- text: He's scared to roll my weed and get the dutches\n  start_ms: 127220\n  end_ms: 130000\n- text: Never mind the fact that he's a don 'cause it's really nothin'\n  start_ms: 130000\n  end_ms: 132730\n- text: Oh, now I'm really fuckin', you see my chain hang\n  start_ms: 132730\n  end_ms: 135750\n- text: You see the diamonds in my watch doin' they damn thing\n  start_ms: 135750\n  end_ms: 138140\n- text: So keep poppin' shit and poppin' champagne\n  start_ms: 138140\n  end_ms: 140880\n- text: I'ma pop in the clip and pop the thang-thang\n  start_ms: 140880\n  end_ms: 143730\n- text: The flow can't be stopped and won't be maintained\n  start_ms: 143730\n  end_ms: 146720\n- text: Dough super stacked, just copped the red Range\n  start_ms: 146720\n  end_ms: 149640\n- text: Untouchable, so fuck do you\n  start_ms: 149640\n  end_ms: 152200\n- text: I'm better than everybody in your whole fuckin' crew\n  start_ms: 152200\n  end_ms: 154980\n- text: That includes you, him, and her put together\n  start_ms: 154980\n  end_ms: 157980\n- text: So, what the fuck can you tell her?\n  start_ms: 157980\n  end_ms: 160630\n- text: Nothin', stop the dumb shit, Rem is hot\n  start_ms: 160630\n  end_ms: 163440\n- text: Come through stuntin' in a baby blue drop\n  start_ms: 163440\n  end_ms: 166120\n- text: Blowin' purple out the top, eyes red, bloodshot\n  start_ms: 166120\n  end_ms: 169010\n- text: Nothin' but green in my pocket, some brown in my wallet\n  start_ms: 169010\n  end_ms: 171990\n- text: I'ma mix with this blue that I got from Uptown\n  start_ms: 171990\n  end_ms: 174510\n- text: When I was pickin' up that white bird, Remy looked right, bitch\n  start_ms: 174510\n  end_ms: 178230\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 178230\n  end_ms: 180870\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 180870\n  end_ms: 183750\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 183750\n  end_ms: 186520\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 186520\n  end_ms: 189520\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 189520\n  end_ms: 192180\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 192180\n  end_ms: 195090\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 195090\n  end_ms: 197700\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 197700\n  end_ms: 200030\n- text: Ayo, dog, when I flash the Glock, it'll blast a cop\n  start_ms: 200030\n  end_ms: 203560\n- text: It's G-Dep 'til my casket drop\n  start_ms: 203560\n  end_ms: 205960\n- text: Whether you spittin' trash or not, bettin' cash or not\n  start_ms: 205960\n  end_ms: 209390\n- text: I'ma still spit acid hot\n  start_ms: 209390\n  end_ms: 211420\n- text: And niggas in that stretch 'cause my arms is strong\n  start_ms: 211420\n  end_ms: 214380\n- text: What you think you clappin' when your arms is gone?\n  start_ms: 214380\n  end_ms: 216980\n- text: I'll pop you, now your moms is gone\n  start_ms: 216980\n  end_ms: 219360\n- text: If it's on, it's on, I want cheese like Parmesan\n  start_ms: 219360\n  end_ms: 222730\n- text: Son, you can't calm the calm, I got enough to\n  start_ms: 222730\n  end_ms: 225530\n- text: Bomb Saddam, my shit rock from song to song\n  start_ms: 225530\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: And Kid Rock from song to song\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 230870\n- text: You's a fuckin' bitch and I see the thong it's on\n  start_ms: 230870\n  end_ms: 234150\n- text: Eight bless on the team, hit a body, the shit down\n  start_ms: 234150\n  end_ms: 237190\n- text: Fiends put the D in they body and sit down\n  start_ms: 237190\n  end_ms: 240080\n- text: See me doin' a buck thirty with the loud pipe\n  start_ms: 240080\n  end_ms: 243130\n- text: Terror Squad gettin' dirty, underground life\n  start_ms: 243130\n  end_ms: 245960\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 245960\n  end_ms: 248600\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 248600\n  end_ms: 251470\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 251470\n  end_ms: 254280\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 254280\n  end_ms: 257210\n- text: Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  start_ms: 257210\n  end_ms: 259970\n- text: I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  start_ms: 259970\n  end_ms: 262700\n- text: Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  start_ms: 262700\n  end_ms: 265550\n- text: Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  start_ms: 265550\n  end_ms: 268740\n- text: Yeah, it's DJ Kay Slay, a.k.a. Slap Your Favorite DJ\n  start_ms: 268740\n  end_ms: 272460\n- text: The black Fat Joe of the motherfuckin' game\n  start_ms: 272460\n  end_ms: 274970\n- text: Terror Squad, motherfuckers, y'all know what it is\n  start_ms: 274970\n  end_ms: 277470\n- text: I'll fuckin' slap the shit out of one of you motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 277470\n  end_ms: 281740\n- text: Y'all front on the Squad, man, y'all know what it is, man\n  start_ms: 281740\n  end_ms: 284770\n- text: 2003 Shit, motherfucker, aight? Oh, oh, oh yeah\n  start_ms: 284770\n  end_ms: 290770\n- text: For promotional use only\n  start_ms: 290770\n  end_ms: 301910\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 301910\nplain: |-\n  Woo! Friendly day in the neighborhood, hehe\n  Birds is chirpin' (Hi neighbor!) niggas walkin' they dogs\n  Haha, waterin' they flowers, that's my neighborhood\n  One, uh, I'm from the streets of the BX borough\n  Niggas packin' the Macs, this is that serve shit\n  Full Flex shit, Al Bo' shit, Raul, ya heard me?\n  Macho, Jigga Brown, JB, Charlie Rock, LD\n  Remy Ma, uh, sound boy turn this shit right here man\n  Yo, yo, yo\n\n  I'm your idol, your highest title, numero uno\n\n  Yes, I'm Puerto Rican and I speak it so that you know\n  Star, yeah, that's the idea\n\n  Leave niggas leakin' from ear to ear\n  Listen here, young bruh, man, your end is near\n  They probably find your body at the end of the pier\n  Niggas must be crazy to mistakin' me for folklore\n  I put the eighty to your baby, man, I told y'all\n\n  Ain't shit to me, niggas can't fuck with me\n  One, pull out the pipe or push your weight back\n\n  Ugh, you hate that, look, we stay strapped\n  A crook from way back that took the game back\n  You shook, remain fact, top of the world\n  Stop knockin' the girl, she in the drop\n  With Ready Roc lockin' the borough\n  Fishscale the her-on, live well from here on\n  Half a mill' in your grill, of course we bear arms\n  Niggas ain't shit, these rappers is worms\n  I pull up in they curb, pull a Desert Bird, uh\n  And clear the block in no time\n\n  Get off my dick, nigga, stop talkin' shit, get your own shine\n  Ma\n\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\n  You can catch me in a baby blue 600\n\n  With a can on my lap like, \"What bitch don't you get it?\"\n  This nigga in my passenger seat, that's just who I'm fuckin'\n\n  He's scared to roll my weed and get the dutches\n\n  Never mind the fact that he's a don 'cause it's really nothin'\n  Oh, now I'm really fuckin', you see my chain hang\n  You see the diamonds in my watch doin' they damn thing\n  So keep poppin' shit and poppin' champagne\n  I'ma pop in the clip and pop the thang-thang\n  The flow can't be stopped and won't be maintained\n  Dough super stacked, just copped the red Range\n  Untouchable, so fuck do you\n\n  I'm better than everybody in your whole fuckin' crew\n  That includes you, him, and her put together\n  So, what the fuck can you tell her?\n  Nothin', stop the dumb shit, Rem is hot\n  Come through stuntin' in a baby blue drop\n  Blowin' purple out the top, eyes red, bloodshot\n  Nothin' but green in my pocket, some brown in my wallet\n  I'ma mix with this blue that I got from Uptown\n  When I was pickin' up that white bird, Remy looked right, bitch\n\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\n  Ayo, dog, when I flash the Glock, it'll blast a cop\n  It's G-Dep 'til my casket drop\n\n  Whether you spittin' trash or not, bettin' cash or not\n  I'ma still spit acid hot\n  And niggas in that stretch 'cause my arms is strong\n  What you think you clappin' when your arms is gone?\n  I'll pop you, now your moms is gone\n  If it's on, it's on, I want cheese like Parmesan\n  Son, you can't calm the calm, I got enough to\n  Bomb Saddam, my shit rock from song to song\n  And Kid Rock from song to song\n  You's a fuckin' bitch and I see the thong it's on\n\n  Eight bless on the team, hit a body, the shit down\n  Fiends put the D in they body and sit down\n\n  See me doin' a buck thirty with the loud pipe\n\n  Terror Squad gettin' dirty, underground life\n\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n  Take a look at my life and you can see that\n  I'm from the Bronx where it's known to hear the heat clap\n  Y'all need a nigga like me to point your fingers at\n  Just stop hatin' on the don, you know you need gats\n\n  Yeah, it's DJ Kay Slay, a.k.a. Slap Your Favorite DJ\n  The black Fat Joe of the motherfuckin' game\n  Terror Squad, motherfuckers, y'all know what it is\n  I'll fuckin' slap the shit out of one of you motherfuckers\n  Y'all front on the Squad, man, y'all know what it is, man\n  2003 Shit, motherfucker, aight? Oh, oh, oh yeah\n  For promotional use only\n"},{"id":32456520,"name":"Angels Voice (Clean Album Version)","trackName":"Angels Voice (Clean Album Version)","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1","duration":219.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah (Uh)\nTold y'all niggas I was comin' back, right? (Yeah)\nThis is the Lieutenant of the motherfuckin' Squad (Flipmode)\nYeah, all y'all niggas talkin' that shit, right?\nNah'mean, bust? (Yeah)\nYou ain't talkin' that shit\nIt's like this, niggas, it's like this\n\nAshes is ashes and dust to dust (Uh-huh)\nY'all see the logo, y'all ain't fuckin' with us\n\nRampage, nigga, I'm a sick man (Man)\nChop you in your face, cut off both of your hands\nWrap your body up, put it in a Sedan\nDrop your ass in a river, this is how I deliver\nGot the maggots just eatin' your liver\nUntold mystery, your name is Swannee River\nYou not a legend, you just one dead nigga\nSix feet under, never comin' back (Uh)\nOne year later (Later), this is real facts (Yeah)\nTell the Feds just to back up off me\n\nKeep eatin' donuts and drinkin' that coffee\nThey say they know my M-O from Philly to Milwaukee\nGot my house tapped with the walkie-talkies\nBitch, I'm just a victim in this case\nMy lawyer's good, so get the fuck out my face\n\nBetter take off your chain, you ain't too thug\nYou get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\nUp in the club frontin' like you a thug\nYou catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\nDon't get it confused, you still could lose your life\nDependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\nYou better make the right choice or end up in a place\nBetween life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice\n\nThis be the shit to go for broke on\n'Til we own ships that carry big freight niggas carve a coke on\nNow let me get my fuckin' smoke on\nAnd have your mother recitin' my shit\nLike she singin' a fuckin' folk song\nNow watch the story unfold, nigga\nBullets smackin' your face and your chest\nJust like a motherfuckin' drum roll, nigga\nYou ain't know me and my crew be lockin' it up\n\nIn rubber bands, stackin' dough in Timberland shoe boxin' it up\nAnd stockin' it up\nToo many of my niggas at the door of the\nClub that be always gun-cockin' it up\nWe put the gat in niggas like the dick that these bitches givin'\nIt to 'em in the worst way for actin' too big for they britches\n\nCrackin' it down, backin' it down\nHow we give it to niggas, you know we only smackin' it down (Huh)\nBefore I bring it to a close, nigga\nYou think we finished 'cause my little sixteen bars is over, nigga?\nYou must be out your motherfuckin' mind, stupid\n\nBetter take off your chain, you ain't too thug\nYou get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\nUp in the club frontin' like you a thug\nYou catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\nDon't get it confused, you still could lose your life\nDependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\nYou better make the right choice or end up in a place\nBetween life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice\n\nDerrty, keep it bomb for ya\nThe ruggedest chick strip shit like Tom Sawyer\nIt's Will Smith, D.I. the Fresh Princess\nRula shit, run things, your efforts is senseless\nHarriet Thaw, ride a rare breed\n\nFuck buyin' a jar, I smoke the engineer weed\nMotherfuckin' niggas got stock in Wells Fargo\nBrick City hooligans, squattin' at the car show (Derrty)\nCouldn't be a girly-girl if I tried\nCrazy slave to the lye, but I'm still fly\n\nLove four-by-fours 'cause they ride like a toy\nSteady jumpin' the curb, pedestrians like, \"Oh boy\"\nI could sing, rap, DJ, work the instant replay\nEven though I'm swayin' my voice like I was Freeway\nGet it right, cuzzo, I keep the rhymes runnin'\nKind of terror FBI don't even see comin'\nMotherfuckin' street sweepin'\n\nBetter take off your chain, you ain't too thug\nYou get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\nUp in the club frontin' like you a thug\nYou catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\nDon't get it confused, you still could lose your life\nDependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\nYou better make the right choice or end up in a place\nBetween life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.50] Yeah (Uh)\n[00:03.02] Told y'all niggas I was comin' back, right? (Yeah)\n[00:06.73] This is the Lieutenant of the motherfuckin' Squad (Flipmode)\n[00:10.19] Yeah, all y'all niggas talkin' that shit, right?\n[00:14.47] Nah'mean, bust? (Yeah)\n[00:16.65] You ain't talkin' that shit\n[00:18.99] It's like this, niggas, it's like this\n[00:22.43] Ashes is ashes and dust to dust (Uh-huh)\n[00:24.87] Y'all see the logo, y'all ain't fuckin' with us\n[00:27.76] Rampage, nigga, I'm a sick man (Man)\n[00:30.35] Chop you in your face, cut off both of your hands\n[00:32.93] Wrap your body up, put it in a Sedan\n[00:35.15] Drop your ass in a river, this is how I deliver\n[00:37.64] Got the maggots just eatin' your liver\n[00:39.70] Untold mystery, your name is Swannee River\n[00:42.16] You not a legend, you just one dead nigga\n[00:44.67] Six feet under, never comin' back (Uh)\n[00:47.31] One year later (Later), this is real facts (Yeah)\n[00:50.08] Tell the Feds just to back up off me\n[00:52.45] Keep eatin' donuts and drinkin' that coffee\n[00:54.91] They say they know my M-O from Philly to Milwaukee\n[00:57.63] Got my house tapped with the walkie-talkies\n[01:00.31] Bitch, I'm just a victim in this case\n[01:02.77] My lawyer's good, so get the fuck out my face\n[01:05.19] Better take off your chain, you ain't too thug\n[01:07.39] You get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\n[01:09.59] Up in the club frontin' like you a thug\n[01:11.42] You catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\n[01:14.74] Don't get it confused, you still could lose your life\n[01:17.18] Dependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\n[01:20.05] You better make the right choice or end up in a place\n[01:22.34] Between life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice\n[01:25.10] This be the shit to go for broke on\n[01:27.09] 'Til we own ships that carry big freight niggas carve a coke on\n[01:30.42] Now let me get my fuckin' smoke on\n[01:32.18] And have your mother recitin' my shit\n[01:33.75] Like she singin' a fuckin' folk song\n[01:35.72] Now watch the story unfold, nigga\n[01:37.41] Bullets smackin' your face and your chest\n[01:39.02] Just like a motherfuckin' drum roll, nigga\n[01:41.09] You ain't know me and my crew be lockin' it up\n[01:43.17] In rubber bands, stackin' dough in Timberland shoe boxin' it up\n[01:46.45] And stockin' it up\n[01:47.44] Too many of my niggas at the door of the\n[01:49.31] Club that be always gun-cockin' it up\n[01:51.25] We put the gat in niggas like the dick that these bitches givin'\n[01:53.90] It to 'em in the worst way for actin' too big for they britches\n[01:57.18] Crackin' it down, backin' it down\n[01:59.06] How we give it to niggas, you know we only smackin' it down (Huh)\n[02:01.88] Before I bring it to a close, nigga\n[02:03.64] You think we finished 'cause my little sixteen bars is over, nigga?\n[02:06.98] You must be out your motherfuckin' mind, stupid\n[02:08.52] Better take off your chain, you ain't too thug\n[02:10.05] You get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\n[02:12.26] Up in the club frontin' like you a thug\n[02:14.11] You catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\n[02:17.45] Don't get it confused, you still could lose your life\n[02:19.75] Dependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\n[02:22.63] You better make the right choice or end up in a place\n[02:24.98] Between life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice\n[02:27.64] Derrty, keep it bomb for ya\n[02:29.09] The ruggedest chick strip shit like Tom Sawyer\n[02:31.72] It's Will Smith, D.I. the Fresh Princess\n[02:34.34] Rula shit, run things, your efforts is senseless\n[02:37.19] Harriet Thaw, ride a rare breed\n[02:39.35] Fuck buyin' a jar, I smoke the engineer weed\n[02:41.73] Motherfuckin' niggas got stock in Wells Fargo\n[02:44.73] Brick City hooligans, squattin' at the car show (Derrty)\n[02:47.58] Couldn't be a girly-girl if I tried\n[02:49.65] Crazy slave to the lye, but I'm still fly\n[02:52.35] Love four-by-fours 'cause they ride like a toy\n[02:54.97] Steady jumpin' the curb, pedestrians like, \"Oh boy\"\n[02:57.52] I could sing, rap, DJ, work the instant replay\n[03:00.41] Even though I'm swayin' my voice like I was Freeway\n[03:03.21] Get it right, cuzzo, I keep the rhymes runnin'\n[03:05.84] Kind of terror FBI don't even see comin'\n[03:08.46] Motherfuckin' street sweepin'\n[03:10.42] Better take off your chain, you ain't too thug\n[03:12.62] You get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\n[03:14.93] Up in the club frontin' like you a thug\n[03:16.71] You catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\n[03:20.07] Don't get it confused, you still could lose your life\n[03:22.42] Dependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\n[03:25.33] You better make the right choice or end up in a place\n[03:27.63] Between life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice\n[03:39.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Angels Voice (Clean Album Version)\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 219000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah (Uh)\n  start_ms: 1500\n  end_ms: 3020\n- text: Told y'all niggas I was comin' back, right? (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 3020\n  end_ms: 6730\n- text: This is the Lieutenant of the motherfuckin' Squad (Flipmode)\n  start_ms: 6730\n  end_ms: 10190\n- text: Yeah, all y'all niggas talkin' that shit, right?\n  start_ms: 10190\n  end_ms: 14470\n- text: Nah'mean, bust? (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 14470\n  end_ms: 16650\n- text: You ain't talkin' that shit\n  start_ms: 16650\n  end_ms: 18990\n- text: It's like this, niggas, it's like this\n  start_ms: 18990\n  end_ms: 22430\n- text: Ashes is ashes and dust to dust (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 22430\n  end_ms: 24870\n- text: Y'all see the logo, y'all ain't fuckin' with us\n  start_ms: 24870\n  end_ms: 27760\n- text: Rampage, nigga, I'm a sick man (Man)\n  start_ms: 27760\n  end_ms: 30350\n- text: Chop you in your face, cut off both of your hands\n  start_ms: 30350\n  end_ms: 32930\n- text: Wrap your body up, put it in a Sedan\n  start_ms: 32930\n  end_ms: 35150\n- text: Drop your ass in a river, this is how I deliver\n  start_ms: 35150\n  end_ms: 37640\n- text: Got the maggots just eatin' your liver\n  start_ms: 37640\n  end_ms: 39700\n- text: Untold mystery, your name is Swannee River\n  start_ms: 39700\n  end_ms: 42160\n- text: You not a legend, you just one dead nigga\n  start_ms: 42160\n  end_ms: 44670\n- text: Six feet under, never comin' back (Uh)\n  start_ms: 44670\n  end_ms: 47310\n- text: One year later (Later), this is real facts (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 47310\n  end_ms: 50080\n- text: Tell the Feds just to back up off me\n  start_ms: 50080\n  end_ms: 52450\n- text: Keep eatin' donuts and drinkin' that coffee\n  start_ms: 52450\n  end_ms: 54910\n- text: They say they know my M-O from Philly to Milwaukee\n  start_ms: 54910\n  end_ms: 57630\n- text: Got my house tapped with the walkie-talkies\n  start_ms: 57630\n  end_ms: 60310\n- text: Bitch, I'm just a victim in this case\n  start_ms: 60310\n  end_ms: 62770\n- text: My lawyer's good, so get the fuck out my face\n  start_ms: 62770\n  end_ms: 65190\n- text: Better take off your chain, you ain't too thug\n  start_ms: 65190\n  end_ms: 67390\n- text: You get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\n  start_ms: 67390\n  end_ms: 69590\n- text: Up in the club frontin' like you a thug\n  start_ms: 69590\n  end_ms: 71420\n- text: You catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\n  start_ms: 71420\n  end_ms: 74740\n- text: Don't get it confused, you still could lose your life\n  start_ms: 74740\n  end_ms: 77180\n- text: Dependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\n  start_ms: 77180\n  end_ms: 80050\n- text: You better make the right choice or end up in a place\n  start_ms: 80050\n  end_ms: 82340\n- text: Between life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice\n  start_ms: 82340\n  end_ms: 85100\n- text: This be the shit to go for broke on\n  start_ms: 85100\n  end_ms: 87090\n- text: '''Til we own ships that carry big freight niggas carve a coke on'\n  start_ms: 87090\n  end_ms: 90420\n- text: Now let me get my fuckin' smoke on\n  start_ms: 90420\n  end_ms: 92180\n- text: And have your mother recitin' my shit\n  start_ms: 92180\n  end_ms: 93750\n- text: Like she singin' a fuckin' folk song\n  start_ms: 93750\n  end_ms: 95720\n- text: Now watch the story unfold, nigga\n  start_ms: 95720\n  end_ms: 97410\n- text: Bullets smackin' your face and your chest\n  start_ms: 97410\n  end_ms: 99020\n- text: Just like a motherfuckin' drum roll, nigga\n  start_ms: 99020\n  end_ms: 101090\n- text: You ain't know me and my crew be lockin' it up\n  start_ms: 101090\n  end_ms: 103170\n- text: In rubber bands, stackin' dough in Timberland shoe boxin' it up\n  start_ms: 103170\n  end_ms: 106450\n- text: And stockin' it up\n  start_ms: 106450\n  end_ms: 107440\n- text: Too many of my niggas at the door of the\n  start_ms: 107440\n  end_ms: 109310\n- text: Club that be always gun-cockin' it up\n  start_ms: 109310\n  end_ms: 111250\n- text: We put the gat in niggas like the dick that these bitches givin'\n  start_ms: 111250\n  end_ms: 113900\n- text: It to 'em in the worst way for actin' too big for they britches\n  start_ms: 113900\n  end_ms: 117180\n- text: Crackin' it down, backin' it down\n  start_ms: 117180\n  end_ms: 119060\n- text: How we give it to niggas, you know we only smackin' it down (Huh)\n  start_ms: 119060\n  end_ms: 121880\n- text: Before I bring it to a close, nigga\n  start_ms: 121880\n  end_ms: 123640\n- text: You think we finished 'cause my little sixteen bars is over, nigga?\n  start_ms: 123640\n  end_ms: 126980\n- text: You must be out your motherfuckin' mind, stupid\n  start_ms: 126980\n  end_ms: 128520\n- text: Better take off your chain, you ain't too thug\n  start_ms: 128520\n  end_ms: 130050\n- text: You get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\n  start_ms: 130050\n  end_ms: 132260\n- text: Up in the club frontin' like you a thug\n  start_ms: 132260\n  end_ms: 134110\n- text: You catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\n  start_ms: 134110\n  end_ms: 137450\n- text: Don't get it confused, you still could lose your life\n  start_ms: 137450\n  end_ms: 139750\n- text: Dependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\n  start_ms: 139750\n  end_ms: 142630\n- text: You better make the right choice or end up in a place\n  start_ms: 142630\n  end_ms: 144980\n- text: Between life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice\n  start_ms: 144980\n  end_ms: 147640\n- text: Derrty, keep it bomb for ya\n  start_ms: 147640\n  end_ms: 149090\n- text: The ruggedest chick strip shit like Tom Sawyer\n  start_ms: 149090\n  end_ms: 151720\n- text: It's Will Smith, D.I. the Fresh Princess\n  start_ms: 151720\n  end_ms: 154340\n- text: Rula shit, run things, your efforts is senseless\n  start_ms: 154340\n  end_ms: 157190\n- text: Harriet Thaw, ride a rare breed\n  start_ms: 157190\n  end_ms: 159350\n- text: Fuck buyin' a jar, I smoke the engineer weed\n  start_ms: 159350\n  end_ms: 161730\n- text: Motherfuckin' niggas got stock in Wells Fargo\n  start_ms: 161730\n  end_ms: 164730\n- text: Brick City hooligans, squattin' at the car show (Derrty)\n  start_ms: 164730\n  end_ms: 167580\n- text: Couldn't be a girly-girl if I tried\n  start_ms: 167580\n  end_ms: 169650\n- text: Crazy slave to the lye, but I'm still fly\n  start_ms: 169650\n  end_ms: 172350\n- text: Love four-by-fours 'cause they ride like a toy\n  start_ms: 172350\n  end_ms: 174970\n- text: Steady jumpin' the curb, pedestrians like, \"Oh boy\"\n  start_ms: 174970\n  end_ms: 177520\n- text: I could sing, rap, DJ, work the instant replay\n  start_ms: 177520\n  end_ms: 180410\n- text: Even though I'm swayin' my voice like I was Freeway\n  start_ms: 180410\n  end_ms: 183210\n- text: Get it right, cuzzo, I keep the rhymes runnin'\n  start_ms: 183210\n  end_ms: 185840\n- text: Kind of terror FBI don't even see comin'\n  start_ms: 185840\n  end_ms: 188460\n- text: Motherfuckin' street sweepin'\n  start_ms: 188460\n  end_ms: 190420\n- text: Better take off your chain, you ain't too thug\n  start_ms: 190420\n  end_ms: 192620\n- text: You get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\n  start_ms: 192620\n  end_ms: 194930\n- text: Up in the club frontin' like you a thug\n  start_ms: 194930\n  end_ms: 196710\n- text: You catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\n  start_ms: 196710\n  end_ms: 200070\n- text: Don't get it confused, you still could lose your life\n  start_ms: 200070\n  end_ms: 202420\n- text: Dependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\n  start_ms: 202420\n  end_ms: 205330\n- text: You better make the right choice or end up in a place\n  start_ms: 205330\n  end_ms: 207630\n- text: Between life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice\n  start_ms: 207630\n  end_ms: 219580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 219580\nplain: |-\n  Yeah (Uh)\n  Told y'all niggas I was comin' back, right? (Yeah)\n  This is the Lieutenant of the motherfuckin' Squad (Flipmode)\n  Yeah, all y'all niggas talkin' that shit, right?\n  Nah'mean, bust? (Yeah)\n  You ain't talkin' that shit\n  It's like this, niggas, it's like this\n\n  Ashes is ashes and dust to dust (Uh-huh)\n  Y'all see the logo, y'all ain't fuckin' with us\n\n  Rampage, nigga, I'm a sick man (Man)\n  Chop you in your face, cut off both of your hands\n  Wrap your body up, put it in a Sedan\n  Drop your ass in a river, this is how I deliver\n  Got the maggots just eatin' your liver\n  Untold mystery, your name is Swannee River\n  You not a legend, you just one dead nigga\n  Six feet under, never comin' back (Uh)\n  One year later (Later), this is real facts (Yeah)\n  Tell the Feds just to back up off me\n\n  Keep eatin' donuts and drinkin' that coffee\n  They say they know my M-O from Philly to Milwaukee\n  Got my house tapped with the walkie-talkies\n  Bitch, I'm just a victim in this case\n  My lawyer's good, so get the fuck out my face\n\n  Better take off your chain, you ain't too thug\n  You get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\n  Up in the club frontin' like you a thug\n  You catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\n  Don't get it confused, you still could lose your life\n  Dependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\n  You better make the right choice or end up in a place\n  Between life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice\n\n  This be the shit to go for broke on\n  'Til we own ships that carry big freight niggas carve a coke on\n  Now let me get my fuckin' smoke on\n  And have your mother recitin' my shit\n  Like she singin' a fuckin' folk song\n  Now watch the story unfold, nigga\n  Bullets smackin' your face and your chest\n  Just like a motherfuckin' drum roll, nigga\n  You ain't know me and my crew be lockin' it up\n\n  In rubber bands, stackin' dough in Timberland shoe boxin' it up\n  And stockin' it up\n  Too many of my niggas at the door of the\n  Club that be always gun-cockin' it up\n  We put the gat in niggas like the dick that these bitches givin'\n  It to 'em in the worst way for actin' too big for they britches\n\n  Crackin' it down, backin' it down\n  How we give it to niggas, you know we only smackin' it down (Huh)\n  Before I bring it to a close, nigga\n  You think we finished 'cause my little sixteen bars is over, nigga?\n  You must be out your motherfuckin' mind, stupid\n\n  Better take off your chain, you ain't too thug\n  You get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\n  Up in the club frontin' like you a thug\n  You catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\n  Don't get it confused, you still could lose your life\n  Dependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\n  You better make the right choice or end up in a place\n  Between life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice\n\n  Derrty, keep it bomb for ya\n  The ruggedest chick strip shit like Tom Sawyer\n  It's Will Smith, D.I. the Fresh Princess\n  Rula shit, run things, your efforts is senseless\n  Harriet Thaw, ride a rare breed\n\n  Fuck buyin' a jar, I smoke the engineer weed\n  Motherfuckin' niggas got stock in Wells Fargo\n  Brick City hooligans, squattin' at the car show (Derrty)\n  Couldn't be a girly-girl if I tried\n  Crazy slave to the lye, but I'm still fly\n\n  Love four-by-fours 'cause they ride like a toy\n  Steady jumpin' the curb, pedestrians like, \"Oh boy\"\n  I could sing, rap, DJ, work the instant replay\n  Even though I'm swayin' my voice like I was Freeway\n  Get it right, cuzzo, I keep the rhymes runnin'\n  Kind of terror FBI don't even see comin'\n  Motherfuckin' street sweepin'\n\n  Better take off your chain, you ain't too thug\n  You get your fuckin' brains pushed back, nigga\n  Up in the club frontin' like you a thug\n  You catch a slug all in your mug or all up in your back, nigga\n  Don't get it confused, you still could lose your life\n  Dependin' on the route or which road you choose, nigga\n  You better make the right choice or end up in a place\n  Between life and death where you'll be speakin' to an angel's voice\n"},{"id":16577650,"name":"I’ma Smack This Muthafucka","trackName":"I’ma Smack This Muthafucka","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1","duration":170.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\nCuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\nCuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\nCuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka\nSee Me Creepin Through The Bushes Hunch Back And Barefooted\nGot Some Beer In My System, I Barely Can Bare Wit It\nWhen Its Drama Out There; Stay Smooth, Stay Smooth\nWhen My Click Need Me, Yo I Move, Yo I Move\nIt Ain't Funny, See When Ya Fuckin Wit My People\nGot The Fo Fo, Buckin It Slow I'm So Evil\nShit Stand Up, Hold This\nSee I Control This, Hemisphere\nMakin This Clear, And Stood Focused\nWas Born Broke, So Ya Ice Dont Entice Me\nEatin Chinese Food, My Juice Wasnt Icy\nI'm Still Papi, And I Ain't Change For Shit\nI Been Out For Four Days, I Ain't Change For Shit\nYo Saluchi, Take Ya Shit God And Rock Gucci\nGhetto Style No Couffi, Smoke Loosi\nHit The Block Wit The New Uzi\nSeven Fourty Five Live Gettin New Coochie\nHit The Hood Like The Windmill And Spin Out Quick\nIt Wont Stop Till I Cake Out Shit (Oh God)\nI Got Some Sons Fa You, And Some Runnas To Run Fa You\nThey On The Block All Day (Ay Yooo)\nShe On The Block All Day (Ay Yoooo)\nWe On The Block All Day (Ay Yoooo)\nI Got Some Henny In My System The Half Is Startin Ta Hit Me\nIf I Brawl In The Club My Boys'll Brawl Wit Me\n(Clears Throat), Niggas Wanna See Me Foul\nFuckin Hatas You Should See Me Now, Switch The Topic\nWe Was Friends But I Told Shorty (Ay Yooo)\nDont You Get Up In This Benz Shorty (Ay Yooo)\nAnd You Know I'll Fuck Ya Friends Shorty (Ay Yooo)\nAnd They Ain't Get No Ens Shorty (Ay Yooo)\nSee Niggas, They Want My Name Next To Kurt Cobain\nBut I Dont","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: I’ma Smack This Muthafucka\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 170000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\n  Cuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\n  Cuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\n  Cuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka\n  See Me Creepin Through The Bushes Hunch Back And Barefooted\n  Got Some Beer In My System, I Barely Can Bare Wit It\n  When Its Drama Out There; Stay Smooth, Stay Smooth\n  When My Click Need Me, Yo I Move, Yo I Move\n  It Ain't Funny, See When Ya Fuckin Wit My People\n  Got The Fo Fo, Buckin It Slow I'm So Evil\n  Shit Stand Up, Hold This\n  See I Control This, Hemisphere\n  Makin This Clear, And Stood Focused\n  Was Born Broke, So Ya Ice Dont Entice Me\n  Eatin Chinese Food, My Juice Wasnt Icy\n  I'm Still Papi, And I Ain't Change For Shit\n  I Been Out For Four Days, I Ain't Change For Shit\n  Yo Saluchi, Take Ya Shit God And Rock Gucci\n  Ghetto Style No Couffi, Smoke Loosi\n  Hit The Block Wit The New Uzi\n  Seven Fourty Five Live Gettin New Coochie\n  Hit The Hood Like The Windmill And Spin Out Quick\n  It Wont Stop Till I Cake Out Shit (Oh God)\n  I Got Some Sons Fa You, And Some Runnas To Run Fa You\n  They On The Block All Day (Ay Yooo)\n  She On The Block All Day (Ay Yoooo)\n  We On The Block All Day (Ay Yoooo)\n  I Got Some Henny In My System The Half Is Startin Ta Hit Me\n  If I Brawl In The Club My Boys'll Brawl Wit Me\n  (Clears Throat), Niggas Wanna See Me Foul\n  Fuckin Hatas You Should See Me Now, Switch The Topic\n  We Was Friends But I Told Shorty (Ay Yooo)\n  Dont You Get Up In This Benz Shorty (Ay Yooo)\n  And You Know I'll Fuck Ya Friends Shorty (Ay Yooo)\n  And They Ain't Get No Ens Shorty (Ay Yooo)\n  See Niggas, They Want My Name Next To Kurt Cobain\n  But I Dont\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":13962527,"name":"I’ma Smack This Muthafucka","trackName":"I’ma Smack This Muthafucka","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Volume 1","duration":170.527347,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\nCuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\nCuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\nCuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka\nSee Me Creepin Through The Bushes Hunch Back And Barefooted\nGot Some Beer In My System, I Barely Can Bare Wit It\nWhen Its Drama Out There; Stay Smooth, Stay Smooth\nWhen My Click Need Me, Yo I Move, Yo I Move\nIt Ain't Funny, See When Ya Fuckin Wit My People\nGot The Fo Fo, Buckin It Slow I'm So Evil\nShit Stand Up, Hold This\nSee I Control This, Hemisphere\nMakin This Clear, And Stood Focused\nWas Born Broke, So Ya Ice Dont Entice Me\nEatin Chinese Food, My Juice Wasnt Icy\nI'm Still Papi, And I Ain't Change For Shit\nI Been Out For Four Days, I Ain't Change For Shit\nYo Saluchi, Take Ya Shit God And Rock Gucci\nGhetto Style No Couffi, Smoke Loosi\nHit The Block Wit The New Uzi\nSeven Fourty Five Live Gettin New Coochie\nHit The Hood Like The Windmill And Spin Out Quick\nIt Wont Stop Till I Cake Out Shit (Oh God)\nI Got Some Sons Fa You, And Some Runnas To Run Fa You\nThey On The Block All Day (Ay Yooo)\nShe On The Block All Day (Ay Yoooo)\nWe On The Block All Day (Ay Yoooo)\nI Got Some Henny In My System The Half Is Startin Ta Hit Me\nIf I Brawl In The Club My Boys'll Brawl Wit Me\n(Clears Throat), Niggas Wanna See Me Foul\nFuckin Hatas You Should See Me Now, Switch The Topic\nWe Was Friends But I Told Shorty (Ay Yooo)\nDont You Get Up In This Benz Shorty (Ay Yooo)\nAnd You Know I'll Fuck Ya Friends Shorty (Ay Yooo)\nAnd They Ain't Get No Ens Shorty (Ay Yooo)\nSee Niggas, They Want My Name Next To Kurt Cobain\nBut I Dont","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: I’ma Smack This Muthafucka\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Volume 1\n  duration_ms: 170527\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\n  Cuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\n  Cuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka, Back Up\n  Cuz I'ma Smack This Muthafucka\n  See Me Creepin Through The Bushes Hunch Back And Barefooted\n  Got Some Beer In My System, I Barely Can Bare Wit It\n  When Its Drama Out There; Stay Smooth, Stay Smooth\n  When My Click Need Me, Yo I Move, Yo I Move\n  It Ain't Funny, See When Ya Fuckin Wit My People\n  Got The Fo Fo, Buckin It Slow I'm So Evil\n  Shit Stand Up, Hold This\n  See I Control This, Hemisphere\n  Makin This Clear, And Stood Focused\n  Was Born Broke, So Ya Ice Dont Entice Me\n  Eatin Chinese Food, My Juice Wasnt Icy\n  I'm Still Papi, And I Ain't Change For Shit\n  I Been Out For Four Days, I Ain't Change For Shit\n  Yo Saluchi, Take Ya Shit God And Rock Gucci\n  Ghetto Style No Couffi, Smoke Loosi\n  Hit The Block Wit The New Uzi\n  Seven Fourty Five Live Gettin New Coochie\n  Hit The Hood Like The Windmill And Spin Out Quick\n  It Wont Stop Till I Cake Out Shit (Oh God)\n  I Got Some Sons Fa You, And Some Runnas To Run Fa You\n  They On The Block All Day (Ay Yooo)\n  She On The Block All Day (Ay Yoooo)\n  We On The Block All Day (Ay Yoooo)\n  I Got Some Henny In My System The Half Is Startin Ta Hit Me\n  If I Brawl In The Club My Boys'll Brawl Wit Me\n  (Clears Throat), Niggas Wanna See Me Foul\n  Fuckin Hatas You Should See Me Now, Switch The Topic\n  We Was Friends But I Told Shorty (Ay Yooo)\n  Dont You Get Up In This Benz Shorty (Ay Yooo)\n  And You Know I'll Fuck Ya Friends Shorty (Ay Yooo)\n  And They Ain't Get No Ens Shorty (Ay Yooo)\n  See Niggas, They Want My Name Next To Kurt Cobain\n  But I Dont\n"},{"id":12883715,"name":"Too Much For Me (feat. Nas, Birdman, Foxy Brown & Amerie)","trackName":"Too Much For Me (feat. Nas, Birdman, Foxy Brown & Amerie)","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper Vol. 1","duration":245.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Check check it out\nKay-Slay! (yeah) What up, baby\nUh, (check it out) Ame'\nHaha, Bravehearts, c'mon\n\nSaid it ain't too much for me\nTo have you next to me\nI can't believe it\nAll the things I do\nTo keep you loving me\nAnd it's just too much for me\nTo not have you by my side\nCause no matter what you're going through\nYou know that I'm gon' ride yea\n\nYou a brave girl? I'm a Braveheart\nIn craw heart and Champion Hoodies\nYou in the Benz Buggy with the fullies\nI ride beside ya, we about to pull a all nighter\nI'm +Super Freak+ like +Rick James+\nSex in rangers, parked on dangerous blocks\nYou like it when the strangers watch\nIm' looking out for cops, you a girl with no fear\nPeople put ya hands in the air for the GQ man of the year\nThat Bentley or Polstry Leather\nThe leather that be up in the coats I wear\nWherever I go so there ya have it\nCashmere fabrics, never caught in last years garments\nHolsters under armpits, chauffers and the charms lit\nAnd a coat is holding on the Don's wrist\nShe got the ill Will chain on\nTurqouise boots saying \"God's Son\"\nThis the theme song\n\nYou know the size of this shit, I flips it quickly\nLose this trouble 'fore these people get with me\nHolla at my hoes cause I dip my bitches\nFrom gold to platinum from rag to riches\nI'm the boss of the boss, the pimp shotcaller\nWorldwide Rider in a Benz with a spoiler\nIn your city tear yo mall up\nPimp fly bitches and tear their walls up\nDress nice I'm super neat\nIce on white wit 3's on her feat\nWorldwide Rider, I'm coast to coast\nFrom Europe, Japan, I gets that dough\nSend out 2 I get back 4\nYo broad around me I'm a lace that hoe\nSmoke 'dro, redo my whips\nRedo my chips this the bird man bitchch\n\nBK I throw it up, if we stay Manoloed up\nCris air canary, all these niggaz hear me\nLou Vuitton, Lou Batten\nBring fever cock sucker when Foxy throw it on\nI speak how I feel I'm a Fox 5 General\nY'all rap bitches is all so subliminal\nThat's why I ones them everytime I pass 'em\nFrontin wit young G the Fox 5 Captain\nSo which hoe wanna fuck wit huns?\nSo come we dun ta push a dem one by one, whoa\nNow make me bust off mi big Magnum\nSpray off in the lobby, call us the Shower Posse\nThe Don Gogen, come through styling hard\nBut 2 goons from the Sherlock Squadron\nIt be a bachelor that Fox them sparring\nAnd leave y'all niggaz on the sideline starving\n\nI-I-I wanna get to know you\nI-I-I want you with me\nI-I-I just want to show you\nYou belong to me\nI-I-I gotta get to know you\nI-I-I have you with me\nI-I-I just want to show you\nYou belong to me","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.17] Check check it out\n[00:01.92] Kay-Slay! (yeah) What up, baby\n[00:04.72] Uh, (check it out) Ame'\n[00:07.44] Haha, Bravehearts, c'mon\n[00:11.06] Said it ain't too much for me\n[00:13.77] To have you next to me\n[00:15.59] I can't believe it\n[00:17.48] All the things I do\n[00:18.33] To keep you loving me\n[00:20.12] And it's just too much for me\n[00:23.78] To not have you by my side\n[00:25.58] Cause no matter what you're going through\n[00:28.20] You know that I'm gon' ride yea\n[00:30.10] You a brave girl? I'm a Braveheart\n[00:31.96] In craw heart and Champion Hoodies\n[00:33.73] You in the Benz Buggy with the fullies\n[00:35.57] I ride beside ya, we about to pull a all nighter\n[00:38.22] I'm +Super Freak+ like +Rick James+\n[00:40.05] Sex in rangers, parked on dangerous blocks\n[00:42.85] You like it when the strangers watch\n[00:45.58] Im' looking out for cops, you a girl with no fear\n[00:48.27] People put ya hands in the air for the GQ man of the year\n[00:51.86] That Bentley or Polstry Leather\n[00:53.67] The leather that be up in the coats I wear\n[00:55.46] Wherever I go so there ya have it\n[00:57.32] Cashmere fabrics, never caught in last years garments\n[01:00.01] Holsters under armpits, chauffers and the charms lit\n[01:02.75] And a coat is holding on the Don's wrist\n[01:04.54] She got the ill Will chain on\n[01:06.38] Turqouise boots saying \"God's Son\"\n[01:09.05] This the theme song\n[01:28.19] You know the size of this shit, I flips it quickly\n[01:31.72] Lose this trouble 'fore these people get with me\n[01:34.48] Holla at my hoes cause I dip my bitches\n[01:36.23] From gold to platinum from rag to riches\n[01:38.98] I'm the boss of the boss, the pimp shotcaller\n[01:40.75] Worldwide Rider in a Benz with a spoiler\n[01:43.53] In your city tear yo mall up\n[01:45.37] Pimp fly bitches and tear their walls up\n[01:48.07] Dress nice I'm super neat\n[01:50.75] Ice on white wit 3's on her feat\n[01:52.56] Worldwide Rider, I'm coast to coast\n[01:55.26] From Europe, Japan, I gets that dough\n[01:58.05] Send out 2 I get back 4\n[02:00.76] Yo broad around me I'm a lace that hoe\n[02:02.52] Smoke 'dro, redo my whips\n[02:05.29] Redo my chips this the bird man bitchch\n[02:07.93] BK I throw it up, if we stay Manoloed up\n[02:29.66] Cris air canary, all these niggaz hear me\n[02:32.35] Lou Vuitton, Lou Batten\n[02:34.19] Bring fever cock sucker when Foxy throw it on\n[02:36.93] I speak how I feel I'm a Fox 5 General\n[02:39.62] Y'all rap bitches is all so subliminal\n[02:41.45] That's why I ones them everytime I pass 'em\n[02:44.10] Frontin wit young G the Fox 5 Captain\n[02:46.88] So which hoe wanna fuck wit huns?\n[02:48.77] So come we dun ta push a dem one by one, whoa\n[02:51.42] Now make me bust off mi big Magnum\n[02:54.13] Spray off in the lobby, call us the Shower Posse\n[02:55.92] The Don Gogen, come through styling hard\n[02:58.61] But 2 goons from the Sherlock Squadron\n[03:01.39] It be a bachelor that Fox them sparring\n[03:03.11] And leave y'all niggaz on the sideline starving\n[03:05.03] I-I-I wanna get to know you\n[03:27.67] I-I-I want you with me\n[03:30.35] I-I-I just want to show you\n[03:32.12] You belong to me\n[03:34.82] I-I-I gotta get to know you\n[03:37.58] I-I-I have you with me\n[03:39.39] I-I-I just want to show you\n[03:42.10] You belong to me\n[03:53.83] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Too Much For Me (feat. Nas, Birdman, Foxy Brown & Amerie)\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 245000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Check check it out\n  start_ms: 170\n  end_ms: 1920\n- text: Kay-Slay! (yeah) What up, baby\n  start_ms: 1920\n  end_ms: 4720\n- text: Uh, (check it out) Ame'\n  start_ms: 4720\n  end_ms: 7440\n- text: Haha, Bravehearts, c'mon\n  start_ms: 7440\n  end_ms: 11060\n- text: Said it ain't too much for me\n  start_ms: 11060\n  end_ms: 13770\n- text: To have you next to me\n  start_ms: 13770\n  end_ms: 15590\n- text: I can't believe it\n  start_ms: 15590\n  end_ms: 17480\n- text: All the things I do\n  start_ms: 17480\n  end_ms: 18330\n- text: To keep you loving me\n  start_ms: 18330\n  end_ms: 20120\n- text: And it's just too much for me\n  start_ms: 20120\n  end_ms: 23780\n- text: To not have you by my side\n  start_ms: 23780\n  end_ms: 25580\n- text: Cause no matter what you're going through\n  start_ms: 25580\n  end_ms: 28200\n- text: You know that I'm gon' ride yea\n  start_ms: 28200\n  end_ms: 30100\n- text: You a brave girl? I'm a Braveheart\n  start_ms: 30100\n  end_ms: 31960\n- text: In craw heart and Champion Hoodies\n  start_ms: 31960\n  end_ms: 33730\n- text: You in the Benz Buggy with the fullies\n  start_ms: 33730\n  end_ms: 35570\n- text: I ride beside ya, we about to pull a all nighter\n  start_ms: 35570\n  end_ms: 38220\n- text: I'm +Super Freak+ like +Rick James+\n  start_ms: 38220\n  end_ms: 40050\n- text: Sex in rangers, parked on dangerous blocks\n  start_ms: 40050\n  end_ms: 42850\n- text: You like it when the strangers watch\n  start_ms: 42850\n  end_ms: 45580\n- text: Im' looking out for cops, you a girl with no fear\n  start_ms: 45580\n  end_ms: 48270\n- text: People put ya hands in the air for the GQ man of the year\n  start_ms: 48270\n  end_ms: 51860\n- text: That Bentley or Polstry Leather\n  start_ms: 51860\n  end_ms: 53670\n- text: The leather that be up in the coats I wear\n  start_ms: 53670\n  end_ms: 55460\n- text: Wherever I go so there ya have it\n  start_ms: 55460\n  end_ms: 57320\n- text: Cashmere fabrics, never caught in last years garments\n  start_ms: 57320\n  end_ms: 60010\n- text: Holsters under armpits, chauffers and the charms lit\n  start_ms: 60010\n  end_ms: 62750\n- text: And a coat is holding on the Don's wrist\n  start_ms: 62750\n  end_ms: 64540\n- text: She got the ill Will chain on\n  start_ms: 64540\n  end_ms: 66380\n- text: Turqouise boots saying \"God's Son\"\n  start_ms: 66380\n  end_ms: 69050\n- text: This the theme song\n  start_ms: 69050\n  end_ms: 88190\n- text: You know the size of this shit, I flips it quickly\n  start_ms: 88190\n  end_ms: 91720\n- text: Lose this trouble 'fore these people get with me\n  start_ms: 91720\n  end_ms: 94480\n- text: Holla at my hoes cause I dip my bitches\n  start_ms: 94480\n  end_ms: 96230\n- text: From gold to platinum from rag to riches\n  start_ms: 96230\n  end_ms: 98980\n- text: I'm the boss of the boss, the pimp shotcaller\n  start_ms: 98980\n  end_ms: 100750\n- text: Worldwide Rider in a Benz with a spoiler\n  start_ms: 100750\n  end_ms: 103530\n- text: In your city tear yo mall up\n  start_ms: 103530\n  end_ms: 105370\n- text: Pimp fly bitches and tear their walls up\n  start_ms: 105370\n  end_ms: 108070\n- text: Dress nice I'm super neat\n  start_ms: 108070\n  end_ms: 110750\n- text: Ice on white wit 3's on her feat\n  start_ms: 110750\n  end_ms: 112560\n- text: Worldwide Rider, I'm coast to coast\n  start_ms: 112560\n  end_ms: 115260\n- text: From Europe, Japan, I gets that dough\n  start_ms: 115260\n  end_ms: 118050\n- text: Send out 2 I get back 4\n  start_ms: 118050\n  end_ms: 120760\n- text: Yo broad around me I'm a lace that hoe\n  start_ms: 120760\n  end_ms: 122520\n- text: Smoke 'dro, redo my whips\n  start_ms: 122520\n  end_ms: 125290\n- text: Redo my chips this the bird man bitchch\n  start_ms: 125290\n  end_ms: 127930\n- text: BK I throw it up, if we stay Manoloed up\n  start_ms: 127930\n  end_ms: 149660\n- text: Cris air canary, all these niggaz hear me\n  start_ms: 149660\n  end_ms: 152350\n- text: Lou Vuitton, Lou Batten\n  start_ms: 152350\n  end_ms: 154190\n- text: Bring fever cock sucker when Foxy throw it on\n  start_ms: 154190\n  end_ms: 156930\n- text: I speak how I feel I'm a Fox 5 General\n  start_ms: 156930\n  end_ms: 159620\n- text: Y'all rap bitches is all so subliminal\n  start_ms: 159620\n  end_ms: 161450\n- text: That's why I ones them everytime I pass 'em\n  start_ms: 161450\n  end_ms: 164100\n- text: Frontin wit young G the Fox 5 Captain\n  start_ms: 164100\n  end_ms: 166880\n- text: So which hoe wanna fuck wit huns?\n  start_ms: 166880\n  end_ms: 168770\n- text: So come we dun ta push a dem one by one, whoa\n  start_ms: 168770\n  end_ms: 171420\n- text: Now make me bust off mi big Magnum\n  start_ms: 171420\n  end_ms: 174130\n- text: Spray off in the lobby, call us the Shower Posse\n  start_ms: 174130\n  end_ms: 175920\n- text: The Don Gogen, come through styling hard\n  start_ms: 175920\n  end_ms: 178610\n- text: But 2 goons from the Sherlock Squadron\n  start_ms: 178610\n  end_ms: 181390\n- text: It be a bachelor that Fox them sparring\n  start_ms: 181390\n  end_ms: 183110\n- text: And leave y'all niggaz on the sideline starving\n  start_ms: 183110\n  end_ms: 185030\n- text: I-I-I wanna get to know you\n  start_ms: 185030\n  end_ms: 207670\n- text: I-I-I want you with me\n  start_ms: 207670\n  end_ms: 210350\n- text: I-I-I just want to show you\n  start_ms: 210350\n  end_ms: 212120\n- text: You belong to me\n  start_ms: 212120\n  end_ms: 214820\n- text: I-I-I gotta get to know you\n  start_ms: 214820\n  end_ms: 217580\n- text: I-I-I have you with me\n  start_ms: 217580\n  end_ms: 219390\n- text: I-I-I just want to show you\n  start_ms: 219390\n  end_ms: 222100\n- text: You belong to me\n  start_ms: 222100\n  end_ms: 233830\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 233830\nplain: |-\n  Check check it out\n  Kay-Slay! (yeah) What up, baby\n  Uh, (check it out) Ame'\n  Haha, Bravehearts, c'mon\n\n  Said it ain't too much for me\n  To have you next to me\n  I can't believe it\n  All the things I do\n  To keep you loving me\n  And it's just too much for me\n  To not have you by my side\n  Cause no matter what you're going through\n  You know that I'm gon' ride yea\n\n  You a brave girl? I'm a Braveheart\n  In craw heart and Champion Hoodies\n  You in the Benz Buggy with the fullies\n  I ride beside ya, we about to pull a all nighter\n  I'm +Super Freak+ like +Rick James+\n  Sex in rangers, parked on dangerous blocks\n  You like it when the strangers watch\n  Im' looking out for cops, you a girl with no fear\n  People put ya hands in the air for the GQ man of the year\n  That Bentley or Polstry Leather\n  The leather that be up in the coats I wear\n  Wherever I go so there ya have it\n  Cashmere fabrics, never caught in last years garments\n  Holsters under armpits, chauffers and the charms lit\n  And a coat is holding on the Don's wrist\n  She got the ill Will chain on\n  Turqouise boots saying \"God's Son\"\n  This the theme song\n\n  You know the size of this shit, I flips it quickly\n  Lose this trouble 'fore these people get with me\n  Holla at my hoes cause I dip my bitches\n  From gold to platinum from rag to riches\n  I'm the boss of the boss, the pimp shotcaller\n  Worldwide Rider in a Benz with a spoiler\n  In your city tear yo mall up\n  Pimp fly bitches and tear their walls up\n  Dress nice I'm super neat\n  Ice on white wit 3's on her feat\n  Worldwide Rider, I'm coast to coast\n  From Europe, Japan, I gets that dough\n  Send out 2 I get back 4\n  Yo broad around me I'm a lace that hoe\n  Smoke 'dro, redo my whips\n  Redo my chips this the bird man bitchch\n\n  BK I throw it up, if we stay Manoloed up\n  Cris air canary, all these niggaz hear me\n  Lou Vuitton, Lou Batten\n  Bring fever cock sucker when Foxy throw it on\n  I speak how I feel I'm a Fox 5 General\n  Y'all rap bitches is all so subliminal\n  That's why I ones them everytime I pass 'em\n  Frontin wit young G the Fox 5 Captain\n  So which hoe wanna fuck wit huns?\n  So come we dun ta push a dem one by one, whoa\n  Now make me bust off mi big Magnum\n  Spray off in the lobby, call us the Shower Posse\n  The Don Gogen, come through styling hard\n  But 2 goons from the Sherlock Squadron\n  It be a bachelor that Fox them sparring\n  And leave y'all niggaz on the sideline starving\n\n  I-I-I wanna get to know you\n  I-I-I want you with me\n  I-I-I just want to show you\n  You belong to me\n  I-I-I gotta get to know you\n  I-I-I have you with me\n  I-I-I just want to show you\n  You belong to me\n"},{"id":35861343,"name":"7 Deadly Sins","trackName":"7 Deadly Sins","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Volume 1","duration":338.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"V-I, V-A\nKay Slay, Jersey\nY'all see me, I'm still here\n\nAin't goin' nowhere\n\nYou can't escape it, the flow too hot\nLike prison, got my balls in locks, so call the cops\nBitch, you like Jordan, you gon' ball or not?\nYou talk a lot, but I'm the one that floss a lot\nOf course it's hot 'cause Vita spit acid rain\nAnd my whole clique got a lot of gats to aim\nI'm a little chick, but I still hold my own\nOne wrong move, I'ma give that dirt to Bone\nMy fam in here with chains like chandeliers\nYou can't stand the player, throw your hands in the air\n\nWith my niggas with the knots in the socks over there\nWith my bitches with the guns that pop over here\nIn the six dot, sit drop, sick watch, big rocks\nBig enough, you can't even hear it when it tick or tock\nIt's Vita to the tenth degree\nYou know it's gon' be some shit if you mention me\n\nYo, yo, I ain't gotta say my name, y'all know the voice\nI ain't gotta claim my reign, y'all know the choice\nI don't need none of my toys to make hella noise\nJust a couple of boys, leave a couple of voids\n\nSpell it out now, bitch, am I ill?\n\nMilli bo back, bitch, and I'm real\nI ain't gonna brag and boast 'cause all I really have is toast\nI lay it down, fuck what everybody else had wrote\nOf course I put the mean verse in\n\nWorkin' hard, nah, still hardly workin'\n\nKeep them A&R's frustrated and cursin'\nBut hey, that's just me 'til I get the curtains\nSee, I'm just that 'bout it, labels always lurkin'\nIs it the tracks I'm hurtin' or I look better in person, huh?\nMilli bumpin', drama king all day\nYou wanna hop up on this big mama thing called Slay, nigga\n\nOn this album, I just got a little somethin' to say\nFor the people that's pickin' through to find somethin' to hate\nAlways tryna come sideways, up in my face\nBut I keep droppin' this hot shit, fuck you today\n\nTomorrow and for the rest of the week\nYou 'bout to see why Elektra still invested in me\nMy hustle is deep, it's me, y'all, Angie Mar, let me just breathe\nAnd I'll deliver like FedEx, then I'll leave\nIf you believe or not, I still drop, you respect or agree\nThis is hip-hop since ladies night overseas\nIn the truck with the whole army, animal crew official\n\nPuttin' it down's a small issue\nI wish you understood, everything good\nEverything tadoe, easy when I roll\nI got this, promise to only spit the hot shit\nWhile these motherfuckers just pop shit, for real\n\nVita, Latte, Lady Mae, Remi\nAngie, Amil-lion, Onion Play'\nLadies, we gonna make it without you now\nLadies, you know you like our style\nWe gonna make it without you now\nNiggas, you know you like our style\n\nCatch Mae in the Benz with the blue halogen\nDoin' a buck ten on the major deegan\nPager beepin', more cash you get\nMae is all about the chips on some savage shit\nSee, I chase checks down and I cash 'em quick\nI'm a thoroughbred chick that'll stash a brick\n\nLeave your mommy mad as shit, havin' fits\nWantin' to stab that ass quick and smash your whip\nBlast the fifth, leave your ass stiff in a box\n'Cause I got smash game and I pitch it a lot\nSwift as a fox, causin' all niggas to flock\nI got papis OT in different spots\nPickin' the locks, stickin' for rocks and dippin' in drops\nIf shit hit the fan, they'll spit at the cops\n\nI slay 'em like K, I'm the queen of drama\nMayday, crazy, bitch, what?\n\nLadie got that fast money, fast cake\nI'm known to push the rock even though I'm not on a fast break\nFendi blue frames matchin' a blue Range\nBut for fun, just hop out and catch the 2 train\nWith one or two dames, cop a few thangs\nAnd my name rang from BK to Ukraine\n\nAnd anything I'm on, bet the CD sell\nAnd my truck so big, I need a CDL\nWeedy smell, eyes red, 'dro is green\nRocks is blue, drops new, the flow is mean\nPop, then blow the scene, y'all know me, I spit it hot\nAnd still keep low-key like a midget slot\nI move the crowd, you chicks don't budge it\n\nMad 'cause I cop kicks with your whole budget\nThe bros love it when I breeze in the ride with rims\nAnd keep trees on the side like Timbs\n\nVita, Latte, Lady Mae, Remi\nAngie, Amil-lion, Onion Play'\nLadies\n\nOh, Dutchess style is so gangsta, she mob boss with it\nIn the box, Porsche fitted when the top scores get in\n\nBelieve your girl Dutchess, the top of the bar's chillin'\nGivin' blocks more feelings than the top floor's ceilings\nNow, feminine when I rock the all linen\nAll denim stand out in the background, yours blend in\nOpen my mouth and they respect my diction\nYou open your mouth and cats wanna let they kids in\nDisrepute's what the album's rockin'\nFall back, call back when yours learn to stop the floppin'\nAnd it must be an awkward option\n\nGuaranteed every comp against me is just one you lost in\nYou see the way these starvers breathin'\nCan't believe I make it happen in a blink like Barbara Eden\nAnd it don't matter who go next\n\nSame endin' whether you do or don't put blood on the Kotex\n\nYo, it's that Bronx bitch again, Remi Ma T-I-N\nOh my God, it's on when the squad march in\n\n'Cause y'all know I'm the hardest regardless\n\nNiggas done caught charges for smackin' rap artists\nI got sons and daughters, respect the goddess\nAnd if you're the kid, then where's your father?\nIf it comes out my mouth, then I'm the author\nYoung Drew Barrymore, bitch, fire starter\nMake sure you get the picture right, fuck what a bitch recite\nAll I'm interested in is what the fuck a bitch can write\n\nAfter that, then you gotta prove to me the bitch can fight\nWe done scrappin', let me see you bust a gat, bitch\nKeep smokin' that cabbage and talkin' that garbage\nAnd you and your fucked up weave gon' be in a casket\nAll your different father's seeds gon' really be bastards\nI'm drastic, Reminisce could blow a flow backwards\n\nBitches walkin' 'round lookin' like straight plastic\nYou trash, bitch, anything I spit's a classic\nRadioactive, pure battery acid","syncedLyrics":"[00:04.44] V-I, V-A\n[00:07.00] Kay Slay, Jersey\n[00:09.18] Y'all see me, I'm still here\n[00:11.87] Ain't goin' nowhere\n[00:14.22] You can't escape it, the flow too hot\n[00:16.43] Like prison, got my balls in locks, so call the cops\n[00:19.22] Bitch, you like Jordan, you gon' ball or not?\n[00:21.21] You talk a lot, but I'm the one that floss a lot\n[00:23.89] Of course it's hot 'cause Vita spit acid rain\n[00:26.51] And my whole clique got a lot of gats to aim\n[00:29.23] I'm a little chick, but I still hold my own\n[00:31.87] One wrong move, I'ma give that dirt to Bone\n[00:34.05] My fam in here with chains like chandeliers\n[00:36.72] You can't stand the player, throw your hands in the air\n[00:39.32] With my niggas with the knots in the socks over there\n[00:41.88] With my bitches with the guns that pop over here\n[00:44.49] In the six dot, sit drop, sick watch, big rocks\n[00:47.30] Big enough, you can't even hear it when it tick or tock\n[00:50.03] It's Vita to the tenth degree\n[00:51.96] You know it's gon' be some shit if you mention me\n[00:54.36] Yo, yo, I ain't gotta say my name, y'all know the voice\n[00:57.19] I ain't gotta claim my reign, y'all know the choice\n[00:59.72] I don't need none of my toys to make hella noise\n[01:02.28] Just a couple of boys, leave a couple of voids\n[01:05.18] Spell it out now, bitch, am I ill?\n[01:07.66] Milli bo back, bitch, and I'm real\n[01:09.93] I ain't gonna brag and boast 'cause all I really have is toast\n[01:13.03] I lay it down, fuck what everybody else had wrote\n[01:15.74] Of course I put the mean verse in\n[01:17.87] Workin' hard, nah, still hardly workin'\n[01:20.45] Keep them A&R's frustrated and cursin'\n[01:22.89] But hey, that's just me 'til I get the curtains\n[01:25.28] See, I'm just that 'bout it, labels always lurkin'\n[01:27.93] Is it the tracks I'm hurtin' or I look better in person, huh?\n[01:30.96] Milli bumpin', drama king all day\n[01:32.70] You wanna hop up on this big mama thing called Slay, nigga\n[01:35.47] On this album, I just got a little somethin' to say\n[01:37.88] For the people that's pickin' through to find somethin' to hate\n[01:40.61] Always tryna come sideways, up in my face\n[01:43.07] But I keep droppin' this hot shit, fuck you today\n[01:45.50] Tomorrow and for the rest of the week\n[01:47.45] You 'bout to see why Elektra still invested in me\n[01:49.94] My hustle is deep, it's me, y'all, Angie Mar, let me just breathe\n[01:53.35] And I'll deliver like FedEx, then I'll leave\n[01:55.27] If you believe or not, I still drop, you respect or agree\n[01:58.47] This is hip-hop since ladies night overseas\n[02:01.04] In the truck with the whole army, animal crew official\n[02:04.57] Puttin' it down's a small issue\n[02:06.37] I wish you understood, everything good\n[02:08.68] Everything tadoe, easy when I roll\n[02:11.23] I got this, promise to only spit the hot shit\n[02:14.03] While these motherfuckers just pop shit, for real\n[02:17.28] Vita, Latte, Lady Mae, Remi\n[02:22.36] Angie, Amil-lion, Onion Play'\n[02:26.13] Ladies, we gonna make it without you now\n[02:29.87] Ladies, you know you like our style\n[02:32.42] We gonna make it without you now\n[02:34.96] Niggas, you know you like our style\n[02:36.70] Catch Mae in the Benz with the blue halogen\n[02:39.57] Doin' a buck ten on the major deegan\n[02:42.14] Pager beepin', more cash you get\n[02:44.46] Mae is all about the chips on some savage shit\n[02:47.06] See, I chase checks down and I cash 'em quick\n[02:49.51] I'm a thoroughbred chick that'll stash a brick\n[02:52.09] Leave your mommy mad as shit, havin' fits\n[02:54.43] Wantin' to stab that ass quick and smash your whip\n[02:57.22] Blast the fifth, leave your ass stiff in a box\n[02:59.67] 'Cause I got smash game and I pitch it a lot\n[03:02.32] Swift as a fox, causin' all niggas to flock\n[03:04.83] I got papis OT in different spots\n[03:07.44] Pickin' the locks, stickin' for rocks and dippin' in drops\n[03:10.13] If shit hit the fan, they'll spit at the cops\n[03:12.69] I slay 'em like K, I'm the queen of drama\n[03:15.19] Mayday, crazy, bitch, what?\n[03:17.29] Ladie got that fast money, fast cake\n[03:19.76] I'm known to push the rock even though I'm not on a fast break\n[03:23.06] Fendi blue frames matchin' a blue Range\n[03:25.23] But for fun, just hop out and catch the 2 train\n[03:28.04] With one or two dames, cop a few thangs\n[03:30.44] And my name rang from BK to Ukraine\n[03:33.12] And anything I'm on, bet the CD sell\n[03:35.57] And my truck so big, I need a CDL\n[03:38.08] Weedy smell, eyes red, 'dro is green\n[03:40.50] Rocks is blue, drops new, the flow is mean\n[03:43.14] Pop, then blow the scene, y'all know me, I spit it hot\n[03:46.20] And still keep low-key like a midget slot\n[03:48.87] I move the crowd, you chicks don't budge it\n[03:51.16] Mad 'cause I cop kicks with your whole budget\n[03:53.57] The bros love it when I breeze in the ride with rims\n[03:56.37] And keep trees on the side like Timbs\n[03:59.33] Vita, Latte, Lady Mae, Remi\n[04:03.60] Angie, Amil-lion, Onion Play'\n[04:07.93] Ladies\n[04:08.00] Oh, Dutchess style is so gangsta, she mob boss with it\n[04:11.22] In the box, Porsche fitted when the top scores get in\n[04:13.93] Believe your girl Dutchess, the top of the bar's chillin'\n[04:16.35] Givin' blocks more feelings than the top floor's ceilings\n[04:18.94] Now, feminine when I rock the all linen\n[04:21.32] All denim stand out in the background, yours blend in\n[04:24.16] Open my mouth and they respect my diction\n[04:26.58] You open your mouth and cats wanna let they kids in\n[04:29.16] Disrepute's what the album's rockin'\n[04:31.09] Fall back, call back when yours learn to stop the floppin'\n[04:34.27] And it must be an awkward option\n[04:36.15] Guaranteed every comp against me is just one you lost in\n[04:39.58] You see the way these starvers breathin'\n[04:41.24] Can't believe I make it happen in a blink like Barbara Eden\n[04:44.33] And it don't matter who go next\n[04:46.32] Same endin' whether you do or don't put blood on the Kotex\n[04:49.38] Yo, it's that Bronx bitch again, Remi Ma T-I-N\n[04:52.07] Oh my God, it's on when the squad march in\n[04:54.64] 'Cause y'all know I'm the hardest regardless\n[04:56.87] Niggas done caught charges for smackin' rap artists\n[04:59.86] I got sons and daughters, respect the goddess\n[05:02.24] And if you're the kid, then where's your father?\n[05:04.80] If it comes out my mouth, then I'm the author\n[05:07.37] Young Drew Barrymore, bitch, fire starter\n[05:09.82] Make sure you get the picture right, fuck what a bitch recite\n[05:12.88] All I'm interested in is what the fuck a bitch can write\n[05:15.43] After that, then you gotta prove to me the bitch can fight\n[05:18.18] We done scrappin', let me see you bust a gat, bitch\n[05:20.32] Keep smokin' that cabbage and talkin' that garbage\n[05:22.85] And you and your fucked up weave gon' be in a casket\n[05:25.62] All your different father's seeds gon' really be bastards\n[05:27.91] I'm drastic, Reminisce could blow a flow backwards\n[05:30.76] Bitches walkin' 'round lookin' like straight plastic\n[05:33.06] You trash, bitch, anything I spit's a classic\n[05:35.65] Radioactive, pure battery acid\n[05:38.39] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 7 Deadly Sins\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Volume 1\n  duration_ms: 338000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: V-I, V-A\n  start_ms: 4440\n  end_ms: 7000\n- text: Kay Slay, Jersey\n  start_ms: 7000\n  end_ms: 9180\n- text: Y'all see me, I'm still here\n  start_ms: 9180\n  end_ms: 11870\n- text: Ain't goin' nowhere\n  start_ms: 11870\n  end_ms: 14220\n- text: You can't escape it, the flow too hot\n  start_ms: 14220\n  end_ms: 16430\n- text: Like prison, got my balls in locks, so call the cops\n  start_ms: 16430\n  end_ms: 19220\n- text: Bitch, you like Jordan, you gon' ball or not?\n  start_ms: 19220\n  end_ms: 21210\n- text: You talk a lot, but I'm the one that floss a lot\n  start_ms: 21210\n  end_ms: 23890\n- text: Of course it's hot 'cause Vita spit acid rain\n  start_ms: 23890\n  end_ms: 26510\n- text: And my whole clique got a lot of gats to aim\n  start_ms: 26510\n  end_ms: 29230\n- text: I'm a little chick, but I still hold my own\n  start_ms: 29230\n  end_ms: 31870\n- text: One wrong move, I'ma give that dirt to Bone\n  start_ms: 31870\n  end_ms: 34050\n- text: My fam in here with chains like chandeliers\n  start_ms: 34050\n  end_ms: 36720\n- text: You can't stand the player, throw your hands in the air\n  start_ms: 36720\n  end_ms: 39320\n- text: With my niggas with the knots in the socks over there\n  start_ms: 39320\n  end_ms: 41880\n- text: With my bitches with the guns that pop over here\n  start_ms: 41880\n  end_ms: 44490\n- text: In the six dot, sit drop, sick watch, big rocks\n  start_ms: 44490\n  end_ms: 47300\n- text: Big enough, you can't even hear it when it tick or tock\n  start_ms: 47300\n  end_ms: 50030\n- text: It's Vita to the tenth degree\n  start_ms: 50030\n  end_ms: 51960\n- text: You know it's gon' be some shit if you mention me\n  start_ms: 51960\n  end_ms: 54360\n- text: Yo, yo, I ain't gotta say my name, y'all know the voice\n  start_ms: 54360\n  end_ms: 57190\n- text: I ain't gotta claim my reign, y'all know the choice\n  start_ms: 57190\n  end_ms: 59720\n- text: I don't need none of my toys to make hella noise\n  start_ms: 59720\n  end_ms: 62280\n- text: Just a couple of boys, leave a couple of voids\n  start_ms: 62280\n  end_ms: 65180\n- text: Spell it out now, bitch, am I ill?\n  start_ms: 65180\n  end_ms: 67660\n- text: Milli bo back, bitch, and I'm real\n  start_ms: 67660\n  end_ms: 69930\n- text: I ain't gonna brag and boast 'cause all I really have is toast\n  start_ms: 69930\n  end_ms: 73030\n- text: I lay it down, fuck what everybody else had wrote\n  start_ms: 73030\n  end_ms: 75740\n- text: Of course I put the mean verse in\n  start_ms: 75740\n  end_ms: 77870\n- text: Workin' hard, nah, still hardly workin'\n  start_ms: 77870\n  end_ms: 80450\n- text: Keep them A&R's frustrated and cursin'\n  start_ms: 80450\n  end_ms: 82890\n- text: But hey, that's just me 'til I get the curtains\n  start_ms: 82890\n  end_ms: 85280\n- text: See, I'm just that 'bout it, labels always lurkin'\n  start_ms: 85280\n  end_ms: 87930\n- text: Is it the tracks I'm hurtin' or I look better in person, huh?\n  start_ms: 87930\n  end_ms: 90960\n- text: Milli bumpin', drama king all day\n  start_ms: 90960\n  end_ms: 92700\n- text: You wanna hop up on this big mama thing called Slay, nigga\n  start_ms: 92700\n  end_ms: 95470\n- text: On this album, I just got a little somethin' to say\n  start_ms: 95470\n  end_ms: 97880\n- text: For the people that's pickin' through to find somethin' to hate\n  start_ms: 97880\n  end_ms: 100610\n- text: Always tryna come sideways, up in my face\n  start_ms: 100610\n  end_ms: 103070\n- text: But I keep droppin' this hot shit, fuck you today\n  start_ms: 103070\n  end_ms: 105500\n- text: Tomorrow and for the rest of the week\n  start_ms: 105500\n  end_ms: 107450\n- text: You 'bout to see why Elektra still invested in me\n  start_ms: 107450\n  end_ms: 109940\n- text: My hustle is deep, it's me, y'all, Angie Mar, let me just breathe\n  start_ms: 109940\n  end_ms: 113350\n- text: And I'll deliver like FedEx, then I'll leave\n  start_ms: 113350\n  end_ms: 115270\n- text: If you believe or not, I still drop, you respect or agree\n  start_ms: 115270\n  end_ms: 118470\n- text: This is hip-hop since ladies night overseas\n  start_ms: 118470\n  end_ms: 121040\n- text: In the truck with the whole army, animal crew official\n  start_ms: 121040\n  end_ms: 124570\n- text: Puttin' it down's a small issue\n  start_ms: 124570\n  end_ms: 126370\n- text: I wish you understood, everything good\n  start_ms: 126370\n  end_ms: 128680\n- text: Everything tadoe, easy when I roll\n  start_ms: 128680\n  end_ms: 131230\n- text: I got this, promise to only spit the hot shit\n  start_ms: 131230\n  end_ms: 134030\n- text: While these motherfuckers just pop shit, for real\n  start_ms: 134030\n  end_ms: 137280\n- text: Vita, Latte, Lady Mae, Remi\n  start_ms: 137280\n  end_ms: 142360\n- text: Angie, Amil-lion, Onion Play'\n  start_ms: 142360\n  end_ms: 146130\n- text: Ladies, we gonna make it without you now\n  start_ms: 146130\n  end_ms: 149870\n- text: Ladies, you know you like our style\n  start_ms: 149870\n  end_ms: 152420\n- text: We gonna make it without you now\n  start_ms: 152420\n  end_ms: 154960\n- text: Niggas, you know you like our style\n  start_ms: 154960\n  end_ms: 156700\n- text: Catch Mae in the Benz with the blue halogen\n  start_ms: 156700\n  end_ms: 159570\n- text: Doin' a buck ten on the major deegan\n  start_ms: 159570\n  end_ms: 162140\n- text: Pager beepin', more cash you get\n  start_ms: 162140\n  end_ms: 164460\n- text: Mae is all about the chips on some savage shit\n  start_ms: 164460\n  end_ms: 167060\n- text: See, I chase checks down and I cash 'em quick\n  start_ms: 167060\n  end_ms: 169510\n- text: I'm a thoroughbred chick that'll stash a brick\n  start_ms: 169510\n  end_ms: 172090\n- text: Leave your mommy mad as shit, havin' fits\n  start_ms: 172090\n  end_ms: 174430\n- text: Wantin' to stab that ass quick and smash your whip\n  start_ms: 174430\n  end_ms: 177220\n- text: Blast the fifth, leave your ass stiff in a box\n  start_ms: 177220\n  end_ms: 179670\n- text: '''Cause I got smash game and I pitch it a lot'\n  start_ms: 179670\n  end_ms: 182320\n- text: Swift as a fox, causin' all niggas to flock\n  start_ms: 182320\n  end_ms: 184830\n- text: I got papis OT in different spots\n  start_ms: 184830\n  end_ms: 187440\n- text: Pickin' the locks, stickin' for rocks and dippin' in drops\n  start_ms: 187440\n  end_ms: 190130\n- text: If shit hit the fan, they'll spit at the cops\n  start_ms: 190130\n  end_ms: 192690\n- text: I slay 'em like K, I'm the queen of drama\n  start_ms: 192690\n  end_ms: 195190\n- text: Mayday, crazy, bitch, what?\n  start_ms: 195190\n  end_ms: 197290\n- text: Ladie got that fast money, fast cake\n  start_ms: 197290\n  end_ms: 199760\n- text: I'm known to push the rock even though I'm not on a fast break\n  start_ms: 199760\n  end_ms: 203060\n- text: Fendi blue frames matchin' a blue Range\n  start_ms: 203060\n  end_ms: 205230\n- text: But for fun, just hop out and catch the 2 train\n  start_ms: 205230\n  end_ms: 208040\n- text: With one or two dames, cop a few thangs\n  start_ms: 208040\n  end_ms: 210440\n- text: And my name rang from BK to Ukraine\n  start_ms: 210440\n  end_ms: 213120\n- text: And anything I'm on, bet the CD sell\n  start_ms: 213120\n  end_ms: 215570\n- text: And my truck so big, I need a CDL\n  start_ms: 215570\n  end_ms: 218080\n- text: Weedy smell, eyes red, 'dro is green\n  start_ms: 218080\n  end_ms: 220500\n- text: Rocks is blue, drops new, the flow is mean\n  start_ms: 220500\n  end_ms: 223140\n- text: Pop, then blow the scene, y'all know me, I spit it hot\n  start_ms: 223140\n  end_ms: 226200\n- text: And still keep low-key like a midget slot\n  start_ms: 226200\n  end_ms: 228870\n- text: I move the crowd, you chicks don't budge it\n  start_ms: 228870\n  end_ms: 231160\n- text: Mad 'cause I cop kicks with your whole budget\n  start_ms: 231160\n  end_ms: 233570\n- text: The bros love it when I breeze in the ride with rims\n  start_ms: 233570\n  end_ms: 236370\n- text: And keep trees on the side like Timbs\n  start_ms: 236370\n  end_ms: 239330\n- text: Vita, Latte, Lady Mae, Remi\n  start_ms: 239330\n  end_ms: 243600\n- text: Angie, Amil-lion, Onion Play'\n  start_ms: 243600\n  end_ms: 247930\n- text: Ladies\n  start_ms: 247930\n  end_ms: 248000\n- text: Oh, Dutchess style is so gangsta, she mob boss with it\n  start_ms: 248000\n  end_ms: 251220\n- text: In the box, Porsche fitted when the top scores get in\n  start_ms: 251220\n  end_ms: 253930\n- text: Believe your girl Dutchess, the top of the bar's chillin'\n  start_ms: 253930\n  end_ms: 256350\n- text: Givin' blocks more feelings than the top floor's ceilings\n  start_ms: 256350\n  end_ms: 258940\n- text: Now, feminine when I rock the all linen\n  start_ms: 258940\n  end_ms: 261320\n- text: All denim stand out in the background, yours blend in\n  start_ms: 261320\n  end_ms: 264160\n- text: Open my mouth and they respect my diction\n  start_ms: 264160\n  end_ms: 266580\n- text: You open your mouth and cats wanna let they kids in\n  start_ms: 266580\n  end_ms: 269160\n- text: Disrepute's what the album's rockin'\n  start_ms: 269160\n  end_ms: 271090\n- text: Fall back, call back when yours learn to stop the floppin'\n  start_ms: 271090\n  end_ms: 274270\n- text: And it must be an awkward option\n  start_ms: 274270\n  end_ms: 276150\n- text: Guaranteed every comp against me is just one you lost in\n  start_ms: 276150\n  end_ms: 279580\n- text: You see the way these starvers breathin'\n  start_ms: 279580\n  end_ms: 281240\n- text: Can't believe I make it happen in a blink like Barbara Eden\n  start_ms: 281240\n  end_ms: 284330\n- text: And it don't matter who go next\n  start_ms: 284330\n  end_ms: 286320\n- text: Same endin' whether you do or don't put blood on the Kotex\n  start_ms: 286320\n  end_ms: 289380\n- text: Yo, it's that Bronx bitch again, Remi Ma T-I-N\n  start_ms: 289380\n  end_ms: 292070\n- text: Oh my God, it's on when the squad march in\n  start_ms: 292070\n  end_ms: 294640\n- text: '''Cause y''all know I''m the hardest regardless'\n  start_ms: 294640\n  end_ms: 296870\n- text: Niggas done caught charges for smackin' rap artists\n  start_ms: 296870\n  end_ms: 299860\n- text: I got sons and daughters, respect the goddess\n  start_ms: 299860\n  end_ms: 302240\n- text: And if you're the kid, then where's your father?\n  start_ms: 302240\n  end_ms: 304800\n- text: If it comes out my mouth, then I'm the author\n  start_ms: 304800\n  end_ms: 307370\n- text: Young Drew Barrymore, bitch, fire starter\n  start_ms: 307370\n  end_ms: 309820\n- text: Make sure you get the picture right, fuck what a bitch recite\n  start_ms: 309820\n  end_ms: 312880\n- text: All I'm interested in is what the fuck a bitch can write\n  start_ms: 312880\n  end_ms: 315430\n- text: After that, then you gotta prove to me the bitch can fight\n  start_ms: 315430\n  end_ms: 318180\n- text: We done scrappin', let me see you bust a gat, bitch\n  start_ms: 318180\n  end_ms: 320320\n- text: Keep smokin' that cabbage and talkin' that garbage\n  start_ms: 320320\n  end_ms: 322850\n- text: And you and your fucked up weave gon' be in a casket\n  start_ms: 322850\n  end_ms: 325620\n- text: All your different father's seeds gon' really be bastards\n  start_ms: 325620\n  end_ms: 327910\n- text: I'm drastic, Reminisce could blow a flow backwards\n  start_ms: 327910\n  end_ms: 330760\n- text: Bitches walkin' 'round lookin' like straight plastic\n  start_ms: 330760\n  end_ms: 333060\n- text: You trash, bitch, anything I spit's a classic\n  start_ms: 333060\n  end_ms: 335650\n- text: Radioactive, pure battery acid\n  start_ms: 335650\n  end_ms: 338390\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 338390\nplain: |-\n  V-I, V-A\n  Kay Slay, Jersey\n  Y'all see me, I'm still here\n\n  Ain't goin' nowhere\n\n  You can't escape it, the flow too hot\n  Like prison, got my balls in locks, so call the cops\n  Bitch, you like Jordan, you gon' ball or not?\n  You talk a lot, but I'm the one that floss a lot\n  Of course it's hot 'cause Vita spit acid rain\n  And my whole clique got a lot of gats to aim\n  I'm a little chick, but I still hold my own\n  One wrong move, I'ma give that dirt to Bone\n  My fam in here with chains like chandeliers\n  You can't stand the player, throw your hands in the air\n\n  With my niggas with the knots in the socks over there\n  With my bitches with the guns that pop over here\n  In the six dot, sit drop, sick watch, big rocks\n  Big enough, you can't even hear it when it tick or tock\n  It's Vita to the tenth degree\n  You know it's gon' be some shit if you mention me\n\n  Yo, yo, I ain't gotta say my name, y'all know the voice\n  I ain't gotta claim my reign, y'all know the choice\n  I don't need none of my toys to make hella noise\n  Just a couple of boys, leave a couple of voids\n\n  Spell it out now, bitch, am I ill?\n\n  Milli bo back, bitch, and I'm real\n  I ain't gonna brag and boast 'cause all I really have is toast\n  I lay it down, fuck what everybody else had wrote\n  Of course I put the mean verse in\n\n  Workin' hard, nah, still hardly workin'\n\n  Keep them A&R's frustrated and cursin'\n  But hey, that's just me 'til I get the curtains\n  See, I'm just that 'bout it, labels always lurkin'\n  Is it the tracks I'm hurtin' or I look better in person, huh?\n  Milli bumpin', drama king all day\n  You wanna hop up on this big mama thing called Slay, nigga\n\n  On this album, I just got a little somethin' to say\n  For the people that's pickin' through to find somethin' to hate\n  Always tryna come sideways, up in my face\n  But I keep droppin' this hot shit, fuck you today\n\n  Tomorrow and for the rest of the week\n  You 'bout to see why Elektra still invested in me\n  My hustle is deep, it's me, y'all, Angie Mar, let me just breathe\n  And I'll deliver like FedEx, then I'll leave\n  If you believe or not, I still drop, you respect or agree\n  This is hip-hop since ladies night overseas\n  In the truck with the whole army, animal crew official\n\n  Puttin' it down's a small issue\n  I wish you understood, everything good\n  Everything tadoe, easy when I roll\n  I got this, promise to only spit the hot shit\n  While these motherfuckers just pop shit, for real\n\n  Vita, Latte, Lady Mae, Remi\n  Angie, Amil-lion, Onion Play'\n  Ladies, we gonna make it without you now\n  Ladies, you know you like our style\n  We gonna make it without you now\n  Niggas, you know you like our style\n\n  Catch Mae in the Benz with the blue halogen\n  Doin' a buck ten on the major deegan\n  Pager beepin', more cash you get\n  Mae is all about the chips on some savage shit\n  See, I chase checks down and I cash 'em quick\n  I'm a thoroughbred chick that'll stash a brick\n\n  Leave your mommy mad as shit, havin' fits\n  Wantin' to stab that ass quick and smash your whip\n  Blast the fifth, leave your ass stiff in a box\n  'Cause I got smash game and I pitch it a lot\n  Swift as a fox, causin' all niggas to flock\n  I got papis OT in different spots\n  Pickin' the locks, stickin' for rocks and dippin' in drops\n  If shit hit the fan, they'll spit at the cops\n\n  I slay 'em like K, I'm the queen of drama\n  Mayday, crazy, bitch, what?\n\n  Ladie got that fast money, fast cake\n  I'm known to push the rock even though I'm not on a fast break\n  Fendi blue frames matchin' a blue Range\n  But for fun, just hop out and catch the 2 train\n  With one or two dames, cop a few thangs\n  And my name rang from BK to Ukraine\n\n  And anything I'm on, bet the CD sell\n  And my truck so big, I need a CDL\n  Weedy smell, eyes red, 'dro is green\n  Rocks is blue, drops new, the flow is mean\n  Pop, then blow the scene, y'all know me, I spit it hot\n  And still keep low-key like a midget slot\n  I move the crowd, you chicks don't budge it\n\n  Mad 'cause I cop kicks with your whole budget\n  The bros love it when I breeze in the ride with rims\n  And keep trees on the side like Timbs\n\n  Vita, Latte, Lady Mae, Remi\n  Angie, Amil-lion, Onion Play'\n  Ladies\n\n  Oh, Dutchess style is so gangsta, she mob boss with it\n  In the box, Porsche fitted when the top scores get in\n\n  Believe your girl Dutchess, the top of the bar's chillin'\n  Givin' blocks more feelings than the top floor's ceilings\n  Now, feminine when I rock the all linen\n  All denim stand out in the background, yours blend in\n  Open my mouth and they respect my diction\n  You open your mouth and cats wanna let they kids in\n  Disrepute's what the album's rockin'\n  Fall back, call back when yours learn to stop the floppin'\n  And it must be an awkward option\n\n  Guaranteed every comp against me is just one you lost in\n  You see the way these starvers breathin'\n  Can't believe I make it happen in a blink like Barbara Eden\n  And it don't matter who go next\n\n  Same endin' whether you do or don't put blood on the Kotex\n\n  Yo, it's that Bronx bitch again, Remi Ma T-I-N\n  Oh my God, it's on when the squad march in\n\n  'Cause y'all know I'm the hardest regardless\n\n  Niggas done caught charges for smackin' rap artists\n  I got sons and daughters, respect the goddess\n  And if you're the kid, then where's your father?\n  If it comes out my mouth, then I'm the author\n  Young Drew Barrymore, bitch, fire starter\n  Make sure you get the picture right, fuck what a bitch recite\n  All I'm interested in is what the fuck a bitch can write\n\n  After that, then you gotta prove to me the bitch can fight\n  We done scrappin', let me see you bust a gat, bitch\n  Keep smokin' that cabbage and talkin' that garbage\n  And you and your fucked up weave gon' be in a casket\n  All your different father's seeds gon' really be bastards\n  I'm drastic, Reminisce could blow a flow backwards\n\n  Bitches walkin' 'round lookin' like straight plastic\n  You trash, bitch, anything I spit's a classic\n  Radioactive, pure battery acid\n"},{"id":35861349,"name":"New Jack City","trackName":"New Jack City","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Volume 1","duration":249.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Poster Boy, Fosterville\n\nKay Slay, Drama King\n\nFuck with the kid, gotta throw your moms over the bridge\nR.I.P., put the hawk to you over your ribs\nKeep thinkin' that the god is chillin'\nI'm the reason the custies is comin' to the Carter buildin'\nAnd it ain't no tellin' what I do\nThey may find your body on 16th smellin' like a Jew\nI'm the number one stunner when it come to the East\nIn the Jag with the .40 cal under the seat\nNigga, this is my block, name a nigga who run me out\n\nFriday come, you and you have your money out\nSon, my gun'll bring a Playboy bunny out\nSomebody gotta die, I'ma try your honey out\nSend her to ER with half her tummy out\nNo C-section, no infants comin' out\nShe can't have babies again\nMe and Kay gettin' money so it's feelin' like the '80s again\nHolla\n\nWe just can't get along\n\nAyo, you boys is silly, I'm next since Pac and Biggie\nAnd I'm 'bout major figures like Dutch and Gillie\nCatch Shells All-Star Weekend down in Philly\nOn my hip pack heat like a bowl of chili\n\nLook, I clap millis, act Willy, you a chump\nOnly kid in the hood with elevators in his truck\n\nSee, I flash bucks, rock all black doors\nAnd my watch iced out like Jacob store\nWhen you boys gon' learn I got this game locked?\nWhat you got for your deal, I spent on Xbox\nKeep frontin' like you hungry, I'ma feed you a biscuit\nI got rock and roll bullets, leave lips like biscuits\nSo hey, it's your life involved, act like it is\nMy chain light gray like trashcan lids\nIf one of y'all take my chain, none of y'all live\nYou like, \"I ain't do it, Shells,\" one of y'all did\n\nWe just can't get along\n\n'Cause a lot of y'all are fakin', one minute it's, \"As-salamu alaykum\"\nTwo minutes later it's, \"Where's my salami bacon?\"\nNiggas swear the product they makin' requires rockin' an apron\nThey liars 'cause it's Betty Crocker they bakin'\nNot that I'm sayin' that I cook 'cause I don't\n'Cause I keep it as raw as you seen it before it was put in the bowl\nThe hookers'll open they jaw for free\nFuck bein' a gentleman, your girlfriend open the door for me\n\nWhen I pimp walk the beat, you shut up one day\nThe day the dick have your mother neck stuck one way\n\nI come up one ways drunk pushin' a Porsche\nMake beef and I'm cookin' the sauce, gravy\nI be lookin' like a boss\n\nI pop at the hood on your snorkel '\nTil I have the fur lookin' like a scarf\n\nLookin' like I robbed him, tell cops I'm\nEasy to find like chicks in a nail shop\nHolla\n\nWe just can't get along\n\nAyo, get back, get back 'fore I click-clack, click-clack\nWhere that shit at? Get that 'fore I bust shots\n\nGet crunk if you want to, drunk if you want to\nFront if you want to and get slumped with the gun too\n\nGive me mine 'cause any time I could run through\nAnd put your brains on the mini-blinds in your sunroom\nTry run, dog, you could try hide, man\nBut when I bust the gun, dog, you gon' die, man\nI'm drinkin' rum, dog, and I'm gettin' high, man\nSay goodbye, man, or a prayer, amen\nLook, it ain't hard to get at you dudes\nI screw waitresses that'll slip shit in your food\nI got yay for sale and I got crazy shells\nI got it locked from Illadel' to ATL\n\nThe wait is over, I'ma take it over\nI'ma bubble like vinegar and bakin' soda\nEasy\n\nWe just can't get along\n\nYo, I'm a D-Block nigga, I don't respect wack rhymes\nIf you had a gat and a clock, you couldn't kill time\nYou cowards don't want beef, why even start?\nY'all like dicks in a pool, none of y'all hard\nCome through in the spit white 330 with a mean birdie\n\nHoldin' my hammer 'cause she know it's dirty\n\nY'all got questions? Holler at me, I'll tell you what's what\nLay you on your back in your trunks and really see what's up\nOn the real, niggas better chill\nThink your crew spittin' flames? I'll put your hot dogs on the grill\nIt gotta be a conspiracy if niggas ain't feelin' me\n\nLike a nigga with no eyes, y'all not seein' me\nCall me a director, I'll give clips to your broad\nBullets is like gum how they stick to your jaw\nGo 'head, call the NARCs, I'll put a hole through your heart\nAnd leave you on the train tracks in a shoppin' cart\nThis ain't just beats and bars, it's things I'll do to you\nYou incompetent fuck, I'm tryna get through to you\n\nThe gauge'll open your chest like Vicks\nHow y'all went from bein' soft to hard? Niggas is dicks\nI don't wanna hear nothin' 'bout your coke and your toast\nLiars get shot in the tongue, I'll put the MAC to your throat\nMotherfucker","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.16] Poster Boy, Fosterville\n[00:04.77] Kay Slay, Drama King\n[00:06.81] Fuck with the kid, gotta throw your moms over the bridge\n[00:09.88] R.I.P., put the hawk to you over your ribs\n[00:12.15] Keep thinkin' that the god is chillin'\n[00:13.91] I'm the reason the custies is comin' to the Carter buildin'\n[00:16.93] And it ain't no tellin' what I do\n[00:18.82] They may find your body on 16th smellin' like a Jew\n[00:21.87] I'm the number one stunner when it come to the East\n[00:24.29] In the Jag with the .40 cal under the seat\n[00:26.69] Nigga, this is my block, name a nigga who run me out\n[00:29.49] Friday come, you and you have your money out\n[00:31.82] Son, my gun'll bring a Playboy bunny out\n[00:34.03] Somebody gotta die, I'ma try your honey out\n[00:36.68] Send her to ER with half her tummy out\n[00:39.15] No C-section, no infants comin' out\n[00:41.34] She can't have babies again\n[00:42.90] Me and Kay gettin' money so it's feelin' like the '80s again\n[00:46.09] Holla\n[00:50.32] We just can't get along\n[00:52.48] Ayo, you boys is silly, I'm next since Pac and Biggie\n[00:55.75] And I'm 'bout major figures like Dutch and Gillie\n[00:58.22] Catch Shells All-Star Weekend down in Philly\n[01:00.61] On my hip pack heat like a bowl of chili\n[01:03.02] Look, I clap millis, act Willy, you a chump\n[01:05.59] Only kid in the hood with elevators in his truck\n[01:08.07] See, I flash bucks, rock all black doors\n[01:10.25] And my watch iced out like Jacob store\n[01:12.74] When you boys gon' learn I got this game locked?\n[01:15.11] What you got for your deal, I spent on Xbox\n[01:17.65] Keep frontin' like you hungry, I'ma feed you a biscuit\n[01:20.00] I got rock and roll bullets, leave lips like biscuits\n[01:22.48] So hey, it's your life involved, act like it is\n[01:24.96] My chain light gray like trashcan lids\n[01:27.48] If one of y'all take my chain, none of y'all live\n[01:29.64] You like, \"I ain't do it, Shells,\" one of y'all did\n[01:36.48] We just can't get along\n[01:38.82] 'Cause a lot of y'all are fakin', one minute it's, \"As-salamu alaykum\"\n[01:42.25] Two minutes later it's, \"Where's my salami bacon?\"\n[01:44.66] Niggas swear the product they makin' requires rockin' an apron\n[01:47.11] They liars 'cause it's Betty Crocker they bakin'\n[01:49.05] Not that I'm sayin' that I cook 'cause I don't\n[01:50.85] 'Cause I keep it as raw as you seen it before it was put in the bowl\n[01:53.83] The hookers'll open they jaw for free\n[01:55.78] Fuck bein' a gentleman, your girlfriend open the door for me\n[01:58.84] When I pimp walk the beat, you shut up one day\n[02:01.09] The day the dick have your mother neck stuck one way\n[02:03.72] I come up one ways drunk pushin' a Porsche\n[02:06.24] Make beef and I'm cookin' the sauce, gravy\n[02:08.68] I be lookin' like a boss\n[02:10.05] I pop at the hood on your snorkel '\n[02:11.63] Til I have the fur lookin' like a scarf\n[02:13.73] Lookin' like I robbed him, tell cops I'm\n[02:15.68] Easy to find like chicks in a nail shop\n[02:17.55] Holla\n[02:22.55] We just can't get along\n[02:25.18] Ayo, get back, get back 'fore I click-clack, click-clack\n[02:27.82] Where that shit at? Get that 'fore I bust shots\n[02:30.31] Get crunk if you want to, drunk if you want to\n[02:33.12] Front if you want to and get slumped with the gun too\n[02:35.74] Give me mine 'cause any time I could run through\n[02:37.66] And put your brains on the mini-blinds in your sunroom\n[02:40.52] Try run, dog, you could try hide, man\n[02:42.82] But when I bust the gun, dog, you gon' die, man\n[02:45.33] I'm drinkin' rum, dog, and I'm gettin' high, man\n[02:47.51] Say goodbye, man, or a prayer, amen\n[02:50.17] Look, it ain't hard to get at you dudes\n[02:51.92] I screw waitresses that'll slip shit in your food\n[02:55.13] I got yay for sale and I got crazy shells\n[02:57.43] I got it locked from Illadel' to ATL\n[03:00.08] The wait is over, I'ma take it over\n[03:02.45] I'ma bubble like vinegar and bakin' soda\n[03:04.89] Easy\n[03:08.54] We just can't get along\n[03:11.49] Yo, I'm a D-Block nigga, I don't respect wack rhymes\n[03:13.97] If you had a gat and a clock, you couldn't kill time\n[03:16.38] You cowards don't want beef, why even start?\n[03:18.78] Y'all like dicks in a pool, none of y'all hard\n[03:21.20] Come through in the spit white 330 with a mean birdie\n[03:24.13] Holdin' my hammer 'cause she know it's dirty\n[03:25.97] Y'all got questions? Holler at me, I'll tell you what's what\n[03:28.46] Lay you on your back in your trunks and really see what's up\n[03:30.96] On the real, niggas better chill\n[03:32.71] Think your crew spittin' flames? I'll put your hot dogs on the grill\n[03:35.74] It gotta be a conspiracy if niggas ain't feelin' me\n[03:38.52] Like a nigga with no eyes, y'all not seein' me\n[03:40.77] Call me a director, I'll give clips to your broad\n[03:43.11] Bullets is like gum how they stick to your jaw\n[03:45.55] Go 'head, call the NARCs, I'll put a hole through your heart\n[03:47.78] And leave you on the train tracks in a shoppin' cart\n[03:50.23] This ain't just beats and bars, it's things I'll do to you\n[03:53.19] You incompetent fuck, I'm tryna get through to you\n[03:55.65] The gauge'll open your chest like Vicks\n[03:57.66] How y'all went from bein' soft to hard? Niggas is dicks\n[04:00.01] I don't wanna hear nothin' 'bout your coke and your toast\n[04:02.48] Liars get shot in the tongue, I'll put the MAC to your throat\n[04:04.87] Motherfucker\n[04:08.99] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: New Jack City\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Volume 1\n  duration_ms: 249000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Poster Boy, Fosterville\n  start_ms: 2160\n  end_ms: 4770\n- text: Kay Slay, Drama King\n  start_ms: 4770\n  end_ms: 6810\n- text: Fuck with the kid, gotta throw your moms over the bridge\n  start_ms: 6810\n  end_ms: 9880\n- text: R.I.P., put the hawk to you over your ribs\n  start_ms: 9880\n  end_ms: 12150\n- text: Keep thinkin' that the god is chillin'\n  start_ms: 12150\n  end_ms: 13910\n- text: I'm the reason the custies is comin' to the Carter buildin'\n  start_ms: 13910\n  end_ms: 16930\n- text: And it ain't no tellin' what I do\n  start_ms: 16930\n  end_ms: 18820\n- text: They may find your body on 16th smellin' like a Jew\n  start_ms: 18820\n  end_ms: 21870\n- text: I'm the number one stunner when it come to the East\n  start_ms: 21870\n  end_ms: 24290\n- text: In the Jag with the .40 cal under the seat\n  start_ms: 24290\n  end_ms: 26690\n- text: Nigga, this is my block, name a nigga who run me out\n  start_ms: 26690\n  end_ms: 29490\n- text: Friday come, you and you have your money out\n  start_ms: 29490\n  end_ms: 31820\n- text: Son, my gun'll bring a Playboy bunny out\n  start_ms: 31820\n  end_ms: 34030\n- text: Somebody gotta die, I'ma try your honey out\n  start_ms: 34030\n  end_ms: 36680\n- text: Send her to ER with half her tummy out\n  start_ms: 36680\n  end_ms: 39150\n- text: No C-section, no infants comin' out\n  start_ms: 39150\n  end_ms: 41340\n- text: She can't have babies again\n  start_ms: 41340\n  end_ms: 42900\n- text: Me and Kay gettin' money so it's feelin' like the '80s again\n  start_ms: 42900\n  end_ms: 46090\n- text: Holla\n  start_ms: 46090\n  end_ms: 50320\n- text: We just can't get along\n  start_ms: 50320\n  end_ms: 52480\n- text: Ayo, you boys is silly, I'm next since Pac and Biggie\n  start_ms: 52480\n  end_ms: 55750\n- text: And I'm 'bout major figures like Dutch and Gillie\n  start_ms: 55750\n  end_ms: 58220\n- text: Catch Shells All-Star Weekend down in Philly\n  start_ms: 58220\n  end_ms: 60610\n- text: On my hip pack heat like a bowl of chili\n  start_ms: 60610\n  end_ms: 63020\n- text: Look, I clap millis, act Willy, you a chump\n  start_ms: 63020\n  end_ms: 65590\n- text: Only kid in the hood with elevators in his truck\n  start_ms: 65590\n  end_ms: 68070\n- text: See, I flash bucks, rock all black doors\n  start_ms: 68070\n  end_ms: 70250\n- text: And my watch iced out like Jacob store\n  start_ms: 70250\n  end_ms: 72740\n- text: When you boys gon' learn I got this game locked?\n  start_ms: 72740\n  end_ms: 75110\n- text: What you got for your deal, I spent on Xbox\n  start_ms: 75110\n  end_ms: 77650\n- text: Keep frontin' like you hungry, I'ma feed you a biscuit\n  start_ms: 77650\n  end_ms: 80000\n- text: I got rock and roll bullets, leave lips like biscuits\n  start_ms: 80000\n  end_ms: 82480\n- text: So hey, it's your life involved, act like it is\n  start_ms: 82480\n  end_ms: 84960\n- text: My chain light gray like trashcan lids\n  start_ms: 84960\n  end_ms: 87480\n- text: If one of y'all take my chain, none of y'all live\n  start_ms: 87480\n  end_ms: 89640\n- text: You like, \"I ain't do it, Shells,\" one of y'all did\n  start_ms: 89640\n  end_ms: 96480\n- text: We just can't get along\n  start_ms: 96480\n  end_ms: 98820\n- text: '''Cause a lot of y''all are fakin'', one minute it''s, \"As-salamu alaykum\"'\n  start_ms: 98820\n  end_ms: 102250\n- text: Two minutes later it's, \"Where's my salami bacon?\"\n  start_ms: 102250\n  end_ms: 104660\n- text: Niggas swear the product they makin' requires rockin' an apron\n  start_ms: 104660\n  end_ms: 107110\n- text: They liars 'cause it's Betty Crocker they bakin'\n  start_ms: 107110\n  end_ms: 109050\n- text: Not that I'm sayin' that I cook 'cause I don't\n  start_ms: 109050\n  end_ms: 110850\n- text: '''Cause I keep it as raw as you seen it before it was put in the bowl'\n  start_ms: 110850\n  end_ms: 113830\n- text: The hookers'll open they jaw for free\n  start_ms: 113830\n  end_ms: 115780\n- text: Fuck bein' a gentleman, your girlfriend open the door for me\n  start_ms: 115780\n  end_ms: 118840\n- text: When I pimp walk the beat, you shut up one day\n  start_ms: 118840\n  end_ms: 121090\n- text: The day the dick have your mother neck stuck one way\n  start_ms: 121090\n  end_ms: 123720\n- text: I come up one ways drunk pushin' a Porsche\n  start_ms: 123720\n  end_ms: 126240\n- text: Make beef and I'm cookin' the sauce, gravy\n  start_ms: 126240\n  end_ms: 128680\n- text: I be lookin' like a boss\n  start_ms: 128680\n  end_ms: 130050\n- text: I pop at the hood on your snorkel '\n  start_ms: 130050\n  end_ms: 131630\n- text: Til I have the fur lookin' like a scarf\n  start_ms: 131630\n  end_ms: 133730\n- text: Lookin' like I robbed him, tell cops I'm\n  start_ms: 133730\n  end_ms: 135680\n- text: Easy to find like chicks in a nail shop\n  start_ms: 135680\n  end_ms: 137550\n- text: Holla\n  start_ms: 137550\n  end_ms: 142550\n- text: We just can't get along\n  start_ms: 142550\n  end_ms: 145180\n- text: Ayo, get back, get back 'fore I click-clack, click-clack\n  start_ms: 145180\n  end_ms: 147820\n- text: Where that shit at? Get that 'fore I bust shots\n  start_ms: 147820\n  end_ms: 150310\n- text: Get crunk if you want to, drunk if you want to\n  start_ms: 150310\n  end_ms: 153120\n- text: Front if you want to and get slumped with the gun too\n  start_ms: 153120\n  end_ms: 155740\n- text: Give me mine 'cause any time I could run through\n  start_ms: 155740\n  end_ms: 157660\n- text: And put your brains on the mini-blinds in your sunroom\n  start_ms: 157660\n  end_ms: 160520\n- text: Try run, dog, you could try hide, man\n  start_ms: 160520\n  end_ms: 162820\n- text: But when I bust the gun, dog, you gon' die, man\n  start_ms: 162820\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: I'm drinkin' rum, dog, and I'm gettin' high, man\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 167510\n- text: Say goodbye, man, or a prayer, amen\n  start_ms: 167510\n  end_ms: 170170\n- text: Look, it ain't hard to get at you dudes\n  start_ms: 170170\n  end_ms: 171920\n- text: I screw waitresses that'll slip shit in your food\n  start_ms: 171920\n  end_ms: 175130\n- text: I got yay for sale and I got crazy shells\n  start_ms: 175130\n  end_ms: 177430\n- text: I got it locked from Illadel' to ATL\n  start_ms: 177430\n  end_ms: 180080\n- text: The wait is over, I'ma take it over\n  start_ms: 180080\n  end_ms: 182450\n- text: I'ma bubble like vinegar and bakin' soda\n  start_ms: 182450\n  end_ms: 184890\n- text: Easy\n  start_ms: 184890\n  end_ms: 188540\n- text: We just can't get along\n  start_ms: 188540\n  end_ms: 191490\n- text: Yo, I'm a D-Block nigga, I don't respect wack rhymes\n  start_ms: 191490\n  end_ms: 193970\n- text: If you had a gat and a clock, you couldn't kill time\n  start_ms: 193970\n  end_ms: 196380\n- text: You cowards don't want beef, why even start?\n  start_ms: 196380\n  end_ms: 198780\n- text: Y'all like dicks in a pool, none of y'all hard\n  start_ms: 198780\n  end_ms: 201200\n- text: Come through in the spit white 330 with a mean birdie\n  start_ms: 201200\n  end_ms: 204130\n- text: Holdin' my hammer 'cause she know it's dirty\n  start_ms: 204130\n  end_ms: 205970\n- text: Y'all got questions? Holler at me, I'll tell you what's what\n  start_ms: 205970\n  end_ms: 208460\n- text: Lay you on your back in your trunks and really see what's up\n  start_ms: 208460\n  end_ms: 210960\n- text: On the real, niggas better chill\n  start_ms: 210960\n  end_ms: 212710\n- text: Think your crew spittin' flames? I'll put your hot dogs on the grill\n  start_ms: 212710\n  end_ms: 215740\n- text: It gotta be a conspiracy if niggas ain't feelin' me\n  start_ms: 215740\n  end_ms: 218520\n- text: Like a nigga with no eyes, y'all not seein' me\n  start_ms: 218520\n  end_ms: 220770\n- text: Call me a director, I'll give clips to your broad\n  start_ms: 220770\n  end_ms: 223110\n- text: Bullets is like gum how they stick to your jaw\n  start_ms: 223110\n  end_ms: 225550\n- text: Go 'head, call the NARCs, I'll put a hole through your heart\n  start_ms: 225550\n  end_ms: 227780\n- text: And leave you on the train tracks in a shoppin' cart\n  start_ms: 227780\n  end_ms: 230230\n- text: This ain't just beats and bars, it's things I'll do to you\n  start_ms: 230230\n  end_ms: 233190\n- text: You incompetent fuck, I'm tryna get through to you\n  start_ms: 233190\n  end_ms: 235650\n- text: The gauge'll open your chest like Vicks\n  start_ms: 235650\n  end_ms: 237660\n- text: How y'all went from bein' soft to hard? Niggas is dicks\n  start_ms: 237660\n  end_ms: 240010\n- text: I don't wanna hear nothin' 'bout your coke and your toast\n  start_ms: 240010\n  end_ms: 242480\n- text: Liars get shot in the tongue, I'll put the MAC to your throat\n  start_ms: 242480\n  end_ms: 244870\n- text: Motherfucker\n  start_ms: 244870\n  end_ms: 248990\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248990\nplain: |-\n  Poster Boy, Fosterville\n\n  Kay Slay, Drama King\n\n  Fuck with the kid, gotta throw your moms over the bridge\n  R.I.P., put the hawk to you over your ribs\n  Keep thinkin' that the god is chillin'\n  I'm the reason the custies is comin' to the Carter buildin'\n  And it ain't no tellin' what I do\n  They may find your body on 16th smellin' like a Jew\n  I'm the number one stunner when it come to the East\n  In the Jag with the .40 cal under the seat\n  Nigga, this is my block, name a nigga who run me out\n\n  Friday come, you and you have your money out\n  Son, my gun'll bring a Playboy bunny out\n  Somebody gotta die, I'ma try your honey out\n  Send her to ER with half her tummy out\n  No C-section, no infants comin' out\n  She can't have babies again\n  Me and Kay gettin' money so it's feelin' like the '80s again\n  Holla\n\n  We just can't get along\n\n  Ayo, you boys is silly, I'm next since Pac and Biggie\n  And I'm 'bout major figures like Dutch and Gillie\n  Catch Shells All-Star Weekend down in Philly\n  On my hip pack heat like a bowl of chili\n\n  Look, I clap millis, act Willy, you a chump\n  Only kid in the hood with elevators in his truck\n\n  See, I flash bucks, rock all black doors\n  And my watch iced out like Jacob store\n  When you boys gon' learn I got this game locked?\n  What you got for your deal, I spent on Xbox\n  Keep frontin' like you hungry, I'ma feed you a biscuit\n  I got rock and roll bullets, leave lips like biscuits\n  So hey, it's your life involved, act like it is\n  My chain light gray like trashcan lids\n  If one of y'all take my chain, none of y'all live\n  You like, \"I ain't do it, Shells,\" one of y'all did\n\n  We just can't get along\n\n  'Cause a lot of y'all are fakin', one minute it's, \"As-salamu alaykum\"\n  Two minutes later it's, \"Where's my salami bacon?\"\n  Niggas swear the product they makin' requires rockin' an apron\n  They liars 'cause it's Betty Crocker they bakin'\n  Not that I'm sayin' that I cook 'cause I don't\n  'Cause I keep it as raw as you seen it before it was put in the bowl\n  The hookers'll open they jaw for free\n  Fuck bein' a gentleman, your girlfriend open the door for me\n\n  When I pimp walk the beat, you shut up one day\n  The day the dick have your mother neck stuck one way\n\n  I come up one ways drunk pushin' a Porsche\n  Make beef and I'm cookin' the sauce, gravy\n  I be lookin' like a boss\n\n  I pop at the hood on your snorkel '\n  Til I have the fur lookin' like a scarf\n\n  Lookin' like I robbed him, tell cops I'm\n  Easy to find like chicks in a nail shop\n  Holla\n\n  We just can't get along\n\n  Ayo, get back, get back 'fore I click-clack, click-clack\n  Where that shit at? Get that 'fore I bust shots\n\n  Get crunk if you want to, drunk if you want to\n  Front if you want to and get slumped with the gun too\n\n  Give me mine 'cause any time I could run through\n  And put your brains on the mini-blinds in your sunroom\n  Try run, dog, you could try hide, man\n  But when I bust the gun, dog, you gon' die, man\n  I'm drinkin' rum, dog, and I'm gettin' high, man\n  Say goodbye, man, or a prayer, amen\n  Look, it ain't hard to get at you dudes\n  I screw waitresses that'll slip shit in your food\n  I got yay for sale and I got crazy shells\n  I got it locked from Illadel' to ATL\n\n  The wait is over, I'ma take it over\n  I'ma bubble like vinegar and bakin' soda\n  Easy\n\n  We just can't get along\n\n  Yo, I'm a D-Block nigga, I don't respect wack rhymes\n  If you had a gat and a clock, you couldn't kill time\n  You cowards don't want beef, why even start?\n  Y'all like dicks in a pool, none of y'all hard\n  Come through in the spit white 330 with a mean birdie\n\n  Holdin' my hammer 'cause she know it's dirty\n\n  Y'all got questions? Holler at me, I'll tell you what's what\n  Lay you on your back in your trunks and really see what's up\n  On the real, niggas better chill\n  Think your crew spittin' flames? I'll put your hot dogs on the grill\n  It gotta be a conspiracy if niggas ain't feelin' me\n\n  Like a nigga with no eyes, y'all not seein' me\n  Call me a director, I'll give clips to your broad\n  Bullets is like gum how they stick to your jaw\n  Go 'head, call the NARCs, I'll put a hole through your heart\n  And leave you on the train tracks in a shoppin' cart\n  This ain't just beats and bars, it's things I'll do to you\n  You incompetent fuck, I'm tryna get through to you\n\n  The gauge'll open your chest like Vicks\n  How y'all went from bein' soft to hard? Niggas is dicks\n  I don't wanna hear nothin' 'bout your coke and your toast\n  Liars get shot in the tongue, I'll put the MAC to your throat\n  Motherfucker\n"},{"id":36404824,"name":"I Never Liked Ya","trackName":"I Never Liked Ya","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Volume 1","duration":217.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"No C.K. in these motherfuckin' streets, dog\n\nNigga walkin' around this motherfucker\nLookin' shocked and stupid, baby\nWe runnin' these motherfuckin' streets for real\nKay Slay, holla at your goddamn boy, huh?\nKay Slay, they don't want me out here\nThey don't want you out here, dog\n\nIt's motherfuckin' Face Mob, Kay Slay, New York City\nHolla at your goddamn boy\nWe don't rock no motherfuckin' ice, baby\nWe rock this real shit, dog\nAnd if you think a nigga bullshittin', come fuck with it\nIt's goin' down\n\nLet's put an endin' to the chitter, nigga, see me in gloves\nI'm the proof in the booth, bitch, readin' in blood\nIt's Face at you, freezin' motherfuckers like a statue\n\nI got a loaded Kay Slay pointed at you\nThe end of your beginnin' 'fore you even get it started\nYou fucked up, now you in the presence of a heartless\nNigga from out the gutter, spit it and don't stutter\nI'm a gangsta, raised around the dope fiends and hustlers\nMy silence is golden, and the streets don't talk\nWe don't let shit slide 'cause beef don't walk\nWe attack hoes, fuck a nigga with wack flows\nI'm the last of a dyin' bitch, act like you don't know\n\nI'm the reason you niggas walk around tough\nJust remember I'm the one made, you could get touched\n\nSo what, you finna put a record out?\nYou a motherfuckin' sellout, Slay told me to knock your ass out\n\nAnd you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\nAnd I was finna get you served regardless\nYou gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\nNow you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\nAnd you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\nAnd I was finna get you served regardless\nYou gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\nNow you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n\nSnow white five, Glendon\nThe elevator with the crib blend with it, kid\nI built one of them Bill Clintons\nMillz to spend, still don, still rentin'\nStill yacht flyin', still killin' fish, still killin' flicks\nThe fifth out, don't even breathe\nOut in Ghana with the ill thieves\n\nSlick hammers, we all fam, what?\nPull out the four, pop the trunk, see the luxury mall\nThe casket leather, the python seats, ya dog\nFlashback, he in them Benz lenses\n\nActin' like he did ten sentences, son ain't real\nHe got excited, parked the truck, just leaned to light it\nTwist the blunt, sat back, son beefin', we drove off\nIt's money on it, until them young niggas dawn on it\nDevour the snitches, you get on, you're born with it\nMake a toast for ours, for all the money and power\nThe right division, don't ever let Corns get it, drama\n\nAnd you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\nAnd I was finna get you served regardless\nYou gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\nNow you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\nAnd you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\nAnd I was finna get you served regardless\nYou gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\nNow you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n\nPass the rock, you niggas gassed to watch\nI never liked your ass, but then again, you can't be shocked\nMost feared in this rap game, it ain't for frontin'\nBest believe when shit pop off, I'm blazin' somethin'\n\nIt's the J to the izz-O, you know the rest\nNigga can't get a quiz-O, for flow the best\nI've been doin' this for years (Yeah), ruinin' careers (Yeah)\nNiggas never wanna listen 'til the toolie's in they ear\nIt's the kid that don't be givin'\nA fuck, I hold the shit out of grudge\nThe type of nigga that'll spit at the judge (Haha, cool)\n\nNiggas gettin' jailed, they say I'm livin' it up\n'Cause I'm in Hollywood with Denzel, flickin' it up\nI play the corner when the shit is hot\nSummertime in the X, Kay Slay got the shit on lock\n\nThat's where you go to find a God body\n\nSecond to none, unless you compare him to John Gotti, biatch\n\nAnd you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\nAnd I was finna get you served regardless\nYou gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\nNow you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\nAnd you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\nAnd I was finna get you served regardless\nYou gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\nNow you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.12] No C.K. in these motherfuckin' streets, dog\n[00:02.92] Nigga walkin' around this motherfucker\n[00:04.10] Lookin' shocked and stupid, baby\n[00:06.09] We runnin' these motherfuckin' streets for real\n[00:08.26] Kay Slay, holla at your goddamn boy, huh?\n[00:11.26] Kay Slay, they don't want me out here\n[00:13.64] They don't want you out here, dog\n[00:16.21] It's motherfuckin' Face Mob, Kay Slay, New York City\n[00:20.47] Holla at your goddamn boy\n[00:22.41] We don't rock no motherfuckin' ice, baby\n[00:24.42] We rock this real shit, dog\n[00:26.24] And if you think a nigga bullshittin', come fuck with it\n[00:28.94] It's goin' down\n[00:30.41] Let's put an endin' to the chitter, nigga, see me in gloves\n[00:33.35] I'm the proof in the booth, bitch, readin' in blood\n[00:35.68] It's Face at you, freezin' motherfuckers like a statue\n[00:38.93] I got a loaded Kay Slay pointed at you\n[00:41.06] The end of your beginnin' 'fore you even get it started\n[00:43.65] You fucked up, now you in the presence of a heartless\n[00:46.19] Nigga from out the gutter, spit it and don't stutter\n[00:48.52] I'm a gangsta, raised around the dope fiends and hustlers\n[00:51.26] My silence is golden, and the streets don't talk\n[00:53.77] We don't let shit slide 'cause beef don't walk\n[00:56.35] We attack hoes, fuck a nigga with wack flows\n[00:58.86] I'm the last of a dyin' bitch, act like you don't know\n[01:01.70] I'm the reason you niggas walk around tough\n[01:03.77] Just remember I'm the one made, you could get touched\n[01:06.53] So what, you finna put a record out?\n[01:08.40] You a motherfuckin' sellout, Slay told me to knock your ass out\n[01:11.97] And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n[01:14.85] And I was finna get you served regardless\n[01:16.82] You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n[01:19.50] Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n[01:22.25] And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n[01:25.11] And I was finna get you served regardless\n[01:27.17] You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n[01:29.71] Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n[01:32.26] Snow white five, Glendon\n[01:33.78] The elevator with the crib blend with it, kid\n[01:35.99] I built one of them Bill Clintons\n[01:37.57] Millz to spend, still don, still rentin'\n[01:39.50] Still yacht flyin', still killin' fish, still killin' flicks\n[01:42.63] The fifth out, don't even breathe\n[01:44.11] Out in Ghana with the ill thieves\n[01:45.91] Slick hammers, we all fam, what?\n[01:47.88] Pull out the four, pop the trunk, see the luxury mall\n[01:50.30] The casket leather, the python seats, ya dog\n[01:52.75] Flashback, he in them Benz lenses\n[01:54.65] Actin' like he did ten sentences, son ain't real\n[01:57.35] He got excited, parked the truck, just leaned to light it\n[01:59.95] Twist the blunt, sat back, son beefin', we drove off\n[02:02.78] It's money on it, until them young niggas dawn on it\n[02:05.62] Devour the snitches, you get on, you're born with it\n[02:08.32] Make a toast for ours, for all the money and power\n[02:10.64] The right division, don't ever let Corns get it, drama\n[02:13.39] And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n[02:16.13] And I was finna get you served regardless\n[02:18.30] You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n[02:20.82] Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n[02:23.44] And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n[02:26.48] And I was finna get you served regardless\n[02:28.17] You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n[02:31.05] Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n[02:33.29] Pass the rock, you niggas gassed to watch\n[02:35.64] I never liked your ass, but then again, you can't be shocked\n[02:38.37] Most feared in this rap game, it ain't for frontin'\n[02:40.86] Best believe when shit pop off, I'm blazin' somethin'\n[02:43.55] It's the J to the izz-O, you know the rest\n[02:45.93] Nigga can't get a quiz-O, for flow the best\n[02:48.55] I've been doin' this for years (Yeah), ruinin' careers (Yeah)\n[02:51.04] Niggas never wanna listen 'til the toolie's in they ear\n[02:53.60] It's the kid that don't be givin'\n[02:54.96] A fuck, I hold the shit out of grudge\n[02:56.67] The type of nigga that'll spit at the judge (Haha, cool)\n[02:58.71] Niggas gettin' jailed, they say I'm livin' it up\n[03:01.08] 'Cause I'm in Hollywood with Denzel, flickin' it up\n[03:03.65] I play the corner when the shit is hot\n[03:05.71] Summertime in the X, Kay Slay got the shit on lock\n[03:08.73] That's where you go to find a God body\n[03:11.11] Second to none, unless you compare him to John Gotti, biatch\n[03:14.57] And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n[03:17.49] And I was finna get you served regardless\n[03:19.49] You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n[03:22.19] Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n[03:24.72] And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n[03:27.53] And I was finna get you served regardless\n[03:29.68] You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n[03:32.35] Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n[03:37.44] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: I Never Liked Ya\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Volume 1\n  duration_ms: 217000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: No C.K. in these motherfuckin' streets, dog\n  start_ms: 120\n  end_ms: 2920\n- text: Nigga walkin' around this motherfucker\n  start_ms: 2920\n  end_ms: 4100\n- text: Lookin' shocked and stupid, baby\n  start_ms: 4100\n  end_ms: 6090\n- text: We runnin' these motherfuckin' streets for real\n  start_ms: 6090\n  end_ms: 8260\n- text: Kay Slay, holla at your goddamn boy, huh?\n  start_ms: 8260\n  end_ms: 11260\n- text: Kay Slay, they don't want me out here\n  start_ms: 11260\n  end_ms: 13640\n- text: They don't want you out here, dog\n  start_ms: 13640\n  end_ms: 16210\n- text: It's motherfuckin' Face Mob, Kay Slay, New York City\n  start_ms: 16210\n  end_ms: 20470\n- text: Holla at your goddamn boy\n  start_ms: 20470\n  end_ms: 22410\n- text: We don't rock no motherfuckin' ice, baby\n  start_ms: 22410\n  end_ms: 24420\n- text: We rock this real shit, dog\n  start_ms: 24420\n  end_ms: 26240\n- text: And if you think a nigga bullshittin', come fuck with it\n  start_ms: 26240\n  end_ms: 28940\n- text: It's goin' down\n  start_ms: 28940\n  end_ms: 30410\n- text: Let's put an endin' to the chitter, nigga, see me in gloves\n  start_ms: 30410\n  end_ms: 33350\n- text: I'm the proof in the booth, bitch, readin' in blood\n  start_ms: 33350\n  end_ms: 35680\n- text: It's Face at you, freezin' motherfuckers like a statue\n  start_ms: 35680\n  end_ms: 38930\n- text: I got a loaded Kay Slay pointed at you\n  start_ms: 38930\n  end_ms: 41060\n- text: The end of your beginnin' 'fore you even get it started\n  start_ms: 41060\n  end_ms: 43650\n- text: You fucked up, now you in the presence of a heartless\n  start_ms: 43650\n  end_ms: 46190\n- text: Nigga from out the gutter, spit it and don't stutter\n  start_ms: 46190\n  end_ms: 48520\n- text: I'm a gangsta, raised around the dope fiends and hustlers\n  start_ms: 48520\n  end_ms: 51260\n- text: My silence is golden, and the streets don't talk\n  start_ms: 51260\n  end_ms: 53770\n- text: We don't let shit slide 'cause beef don't walk\n  start_ms: 53770\n  end_ms: 56350\n- text: We attack hoes, fuck a nigga with wack flows\n  start_ms: 56350\n  end_ms: 58860\n- text: I'm the last of a dyin' bitch, act like you don't know\n  start_ms: 58860\n  end_ms: 61700\n- text: I'm the reason you niggas walk around tough\n  start_ms: 61700\n  end_ms: 63770\n- text: Just remember I'm the one made, you could get touched\n  start_ms: 63770\n  end_ms: 66530\n- text: So what, you finna put a record out?\n  start_ms: 66530\n  end_ms: 68400\n- text: You a motherfuckin' sellout, Slay told me to knock your ass out\n  start_ms: 68400\n  end_ms: 71970\n- text: And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  start_ms: 71970\n  end_ms: 74850\n- text: And I was finna get you served regardless\n  start_ms: 74850\n  end_ms: 76820\n- text: You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  start_ms: 76820\n  end_ms: 79500\n- text: Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n  start_ms: 79500\n  end_ms: 82250\n- text: And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  start_ms: 82250\n  end_ms: 85110\n- text: And I was finna get you served regardless\n  start_ms: 85110\n  end_ms: 87170\n- text: You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  start_ms: 87170\n  end_ms: 89710\n- text: Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n  start_ms: 89710\n  end_ms: 92260\n- text: Snow white five, Glendon\n  start_ms: 92260\n  end_ms: 93780\n- text: The elevator with the crib blend with it, kid\n  start_ms: 93780\n  end_ms: 95990\n- text: I built one of them Bill Clintons\n  start_ms: 95990\n  end_ms: 97570\n- text: Millz to spend, still don, still rentin'\n  start_ms: 97570\n  end_ms: 99500\n- text: Still yacht flyin', still killin' fish, still killin' flicks\n  start_ms: 99500\n  end_ms: 102630\n- text: The fifth out, don't even breathe\n  start_ms: 102630\n  end_ms: 104110\n- text: Out in Ghana with the ill thieves\n  start_ms: 104110\n  end_ms: 105910\n- text: Slick hammers, we all fam, what?\n  start_ms: 105910\n  end_ms: 107880\n- text: Pull out the four, pop the trunk, see the luxury mall\n  start_ms: 107880\n  end_ms: 110300\n- text: The casket leather, the python seats, ya dog\n  start_ms: 110300\n  end_ms: 112750\n- text: Flashback, he in them Benz lenses\n  start_ms: 112750\n  end_ms: 114650\n- text: Actin' like he did ten sentences, son ain't real\n  start_ms: 114650\n  end_ms: 117350\n- text: He got excited, parked the truck, just leaned to light it\n  start_ms: 117350\n  end_ms: 119950\n- text: Twist the blunt, sat back, son beefin', we drove off\n  start_ms: 119950\n  end_ms: 122780\n- text: It's money on it, until them young niggas dawn on it\n  start_ms: 122780\n  end_ms: 125620\n- text: Devour the snitches, you get on, you're born with it\n  start_ms: 125620\n  end_ms: 128320\n- text: Make a toast for ours, for all the money and power\n  start_ms: 128320\n  end_ms: 130640\n- text: The right division, don't ever let Corns get it, drama\n  start_ms: 130640\n  end_ms: 133390\n- text: And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  start_ms: 133390\n  end_ms: 136130\n- text: And I was finna get you served regardless\n  start_ms: 136130\n  end_ms: 138300\n- text: You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  start_ms: 138300\n  end_ms: 140820\n- text: Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n  start_ms: 140820\n  end_ms: 143440\n- text: And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  start_ms: 143440\n  end_ms: 146480\n- text: And I was finna get you served regardless\n  start_ms: 146480\n  end_ms: 148170\n- text: You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  start_ms: 148170\n  end_ms: 151050\n- text: Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n  start_ms: 151050\n  end_ms: 153290\n- text: Pass the rock, you niggas gassed to watch\n  start_ms: 153290\n  end_ms: 155640\n- text: I never liked your ass, but then again, you can't be shocked\n  start_ms: 155640\n  end_ms: 158370\n- text: Most feared in this rap game, it ain't for frontin'\n  start_ms: 158370\n  end_ms: 160860\n- text: Best believe when shit pop off, I'm blazin' somethin'\n  start_ms: 160860\n  end_ms: 163550\n- text: It's the J to the izz-O, you know the rest\n  start_ms: 163550\n  end_ms: 165930\n- text: Nigga can't get a quiz-O, for flow the best\n  start_ms: 165930\n  end_ms: 168550\n- text: I've been doin' this for years (Yeah), ruinin' careers (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 168550\n  end_ms: 171040\n- text: Niggas never wanna listen 'til the toolie's in they ear\n  start_ms: 171040\n  end_ms: 173600\n- text: It's the kid that don't be givin'\n  start_ms: 173600\n  end_ms: 174960\n- text: A fuck, I hold the shit out of grudge\n  start_ms: 174960\n  end_ms: 176670\n- text: The type of nigga that'll spit at the judge (Haha, cool)\n  start_ms: 176670\n  end_ms: 178710\n- text: Niggas gettin' jailed, they say I'm livin' it up\n  start_ms: 178710\n  end_ms: 181080\n- text: '''Cause I''m in Hollywood with Denzel, flickin'' it up'\n  start_ms: 181080\n  end_ms: 183650\n- text: I play the corner when the shit is hot\n  start_ms: 183650\n  end_ms: 185710\n- text: Summertime in the X, Kay Slay got the shit on lock\n  start_ms: 185710\n  end_ms: 188730\n- text: That's where you go to find a God body\n  start_ms: 188730\n  end_ms: 191110\n- text: Second to none, unless you compare him to John Gotti, biatch\n  start_ms: 191110\n  end_ms: 194570\n- text: And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  start_ms: 194570\n  end_ms: 197490\n- text: And I was finna get you served regardless\n  start_ms: 197490\n  end_ms: 199490\n- text: You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  start_ms: 199490\n  end_ms: 202190\n- text: Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n  start_ms: 202190\n  end_ms: 204720\n- text: And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  start_ms: 204720\n  end_ms: 207530\n- text: And I was finna get you served regardless\n  start_ms: 207530\n  end_ms: 209680\n- text: You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  start_ms: 209680\n  end_ms: 212350\n- text: Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n  start_ms: 212350\n  end_ms: 217440\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 217440\nplain: |-\n  No C.K. in these motherfuckin' streets, dog\n\n  Nigga walkin' around this motherfucker\n  Lookin' shocked and stupid, baby\n  We runnin' these motherfuckin' streets for real\n  Kay Slay, holla at your goddamn boy, huh?\n  Kay Slay, they don't want me out here\n  They don't want you out here, dog\n\n  It's motherfuckin' Face Mob, Kay Slay, New York City\n  Holla at your goddamn boy\n  We don't rock no motherfuckin' ice, baby\n  We rock this real shit, dog\n  And if you think a nigga bullshittin', come fuck with it\n  It's goin' down\n\n  Let's put an endin' to the chitter, nigga, see me in gloves\n  I'm the proof in the booth, bitch, readin' in blood\n  It's Face at you, freezin' motherfuckers like a statue\n\n  I got a loaded Kay Slay pointed at you\n  The end of your beginnin' 'fore you even get it started\n  You fucked up, now you in the presence of a heartless\n  Nigga from out the gutter, spit it and don't stutter\n  I'm a gangsta, raised around the dope fiends and hustlers\n  My silence is golden, and the streets don't talk\n  We don't let shit slide 'cause beef don't walk\n  We attack hoes, fuck a nigga with wack flows\n  I'm the last of a dyin' bitch, act like you don't know\n\n  I'm the reason you niggas walk around tough\n  Just remember I'm the one made, you could get touched\n\n  So what, you finna put a record out?\n  You a motherfuckin' sellout, Slay told me to knock your ass out\n\n  And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  And I was finna get you served regardless\n  You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n  And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  And I was finna get you served regardless\n  You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n\n  Snow white five, Glendon\n  The elevator with the crib blend with it, kid\n  I built one of them Bill Clintons\n  Millz to spend, still don, still rentin'\n  Still yacht flyin', still killin' fish, still killin' flicks\n  The fifth out, don't even breathe\n  Out in Ghana with the ill thieves\n\n  Slick hammers, we all fam, what?\n  Pull out the four, pop the trunk, see the luxury mall\n  The casket leather, the python seats, ya dog\n  Flashback, he in them Benz lenses\n\n  Actin' like he did ten sentences, son ain't real\n  He got excited, parked the truck, just leaned to light it\n  Twist the blunt, sat back, son beefin', we drove off\n  It's money on it, until them young niggas dawn on it\n  Devour the snitches, you get on, you're born with it\n  Make a toast for ours, for all the money and power\n  The right division, don't ever let Corns get it, drama\n\n  And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  And I was finna get you served regardless\n  You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n  And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  And I was finna get you served regardless\n  You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n\n  Pass the rock, you niggas gassed to watch\n  I never liked your ass, but then again, you can't be shocked\n  Most feared in this rap game, it ain't for frontin'\n  Best believe when shit pop off, I'm blazin' somethin'\n\n  It's the J to the izz-O, you know the rest\n  Nigga can't get a quiz-O, for flow the best\n  I've been doin' this for years (Yeah), ruinin' careers (Yeah)\n  Niggas never wanna listen 'til the toolie's in they ear\n  It's the kid that don't be givin'\n  A fuck, I hold the shit out of grudge\n  The type of nigga that'll spit at the judge (Haha, cool)\n\n  Niggas gettin' jailed, they say I'm livin' it up\n  'Cause I'm in Hollywood with Denzel, flickin' it up\n  I play the corner when the shit is hot\n  Summertime in the X, Kay Slay got the shit on lock\n\n  That's where you go to find a God body\n\n  Second to none, unless you compare him to John Gotti, biatch\n\n  And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  And I was finna get you served regardless\n  You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n  And you was right, I never liked your motherfuckin' ass to start with\n  And I was finna get you served regardless\n  You gay bitch, you picked the right nigga to play with\n  Now you got a leaky t-shirt, from the K spit\n"},{"id":39106894,"name":"Everybody Wanna Shine","trackName":"Everybody Wanna Shine","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper, Volume 1","duration":196.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"DJ Kay Slay, the drama king (Drama, baby)\nYeah, the bad guy (What?)\nI got my nigga D-Dot with me\nAnd he got the Bad Boys with him\nBlack Rob\n\nToo many chiefs and no Indians\nNiggas wanna shine at the bar, sip Remy and\nTwo-piece denim attire, new Timberland\nTryna wild out, reminding me of them gremlins\nMe and mines low in the cut, it's like the Kremlin\n\nHalf of these so-called players, I don't remember them\nIn case you didn't know, Bad Boy still an emblem\nFucking right it ain't all love, this ain't Wimbledon\n(All this fronting is sicker than)\nSo when I'm doing it, fam, I'm so sure\nEverybody wanna shine without reading the brochure\n\nNow listen, pay close attention\nHow you eating good when you never had a maid in your kitchen?\nYou wanna be Black Rob? Then grind first\nNo Cris', no Mo', try sipping on wine first\nThen hit the dealer and purchase the black Saab\nMaybe you could be the next Kay Slay and Black Rob (Stars)\n\nYeah, that's what I'm talking about\nEverybody wanna shine, but nobody wanna get in the grind, man\nYo, D-Dot, stand up, baby, it's your turn\n\nYo, now get a handle on your scandal 'fore I scramble and bust\nPause, plus I don't think y'all gamble enough\nY'all don't know when to fold or when to hold\nWhen you do plan to throw 'em, your hand is cold\nI got the touch like Midas, nigga\nGive rap your tie, you'll fry trying to try this nigga\n\nNow everybody wanna shine\nBut where was y'all at when I wanted\nCaught a ball and all that had was a dime?\nOkay, now we balling, me, Max Lay, and a G lady\n\nPut all that rap to the side 'cause we shady\n\nMe and Max Samford and son, he like Grady\nMove to the Hamptons and son, we see gravy\nI'm quite sure all of us carry a .380\nFor shizzle, I'll put you on ice and your three babies\n\nWhether the mic or the rifle, y'all\nThese Eastside cats are coming through to write for y'all\nAyo, I rhyme over Quante G\nDiplomat plates on my RR, so I park for free\nOn the Westside or the FD\nWrote a letter to my senator while the feds watching me\nNever expose myself or show signs of any wealth\nI was pretty much stealth, I stayed to myself\nOnly talked to one cat and he ain't gon' squeal\nAnd I ain't got nothing 'til I close my deal (Max, Max)\n\nYeah, it's a lot of stunting going on this summer, man\nY'all think y'all bad boys? Y'all ain't bad boys\nI got the real bad boys with me\nCrank that, New Orlean\n\nDon't know what you thought this was, we no little kiddies\nWe grown men now, established in big cities\nAnd Frank Nittys? I got those crime gestapos\nSopranos to Altos, from cops to Alpo\n\nSit back and eat a nacho and watch this nigga\nAs my story unfold like my couch do, nigga\n\nMax bigger than you thought you was\nAnd caught you cuz with ammo like the army does\nSee, Mac is a menace, a threat to y'all\nP slipped me a mill' and I'm betting it all\nI'm Sugar Ray Leonard on tracks\nWith the jab and the hook that wrote the book, so cowboy, just relax\nA vote for Mac is a vote for wanting it back\nTrust me, God, everything you touch was crap\nAnd I should bust y'all just for that\nBut I'ma chill and fall back and listen to a murderous rap (Kay Slay)\n\nYeah, that's what I'm talking about, baby\nThe Street Sweeper Volume 1, official\nTrue to the streets, true to the game\nTrue rappers, no fake shit, man\nThis is authentic right here\nYo, D-Dot, you did your thing, baby\nThat's what I'm talking about\nRepresent Bad Boy to the fullest\n2003 Shit, what?","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.47] DJ Kay Slay, the drama king (Drama, baby)\n[00:06.38] Yeah, the bad guy (What?)\n[00:07.90] I got my nigga D-Dot with me\n[00:09.64] And he got the Bad Boys with him\n[00:11.40] Black Rob\n[00:12.07] Too many chiefs and no Indians\n[00:14.16] Niggas wanna shine at the bar, sip Remy and\n[00:16.67] Two-piece denim attire, new Timberland\n[00:19.17] Tryna wild out, reminding me of them gremlins\n[00:21.73] Me and mines low in the cut, it's like the Kremlin\n[00:24.30] Half of these so-called players, I don't remember them\n[00:26.63] In case you didn't know, Bad Boy still an emblem\n[00:29.30] Fucking right it ain't all love, this ain't Wimbledon\n[00:31.42] (All this fronting is sicker than)\n[00:33.33] So when I'm doing it, fam, I'm so sure\n[00:35.44] Everybody wanna shine without reading the brochure\n[00:38.15] Now listen, pay close attention\n[00:40.11] How you eating good when you never had a maid in your kitchen?\n[00:43.56] You wanna be Black Rob? Then grind first\n[00:45.68] No Cris', no Mo', try sipping on wine first\n[00:48.66] Then hit the dealer and purchase the black Saab\n[00:50.69] Maybe you could be the next Kay Slay and Black Rob (Stars)\n[00:54.07] Yeah, that's what I'm talking about\n[00:55.85] Everybody wanna shine, but nobody wanna get in the grind, man\n[00:59.48] Yo, D-Dot, stand up, baby, it's your turn\n[01:02.74] Yo, now get a handle on your scandal 'fore I scramble and bust\n[01:05.82] Pause, plus I don't think y'all gamble enough\n[01:08.42] Y'all don't know when to fold or when to hold\n[01:11.08] When you do plan to throw 'em, your hand is cold\n[01:13.37] I got the touch like Midas, nigga\n[01:15.44] Give rap your tie, you'll fry trying to try this nigga\n[01:19.16] Now everybody wanna shine\n[01:20.65] But where was y'all at when I wanted\n[01:22.14] Caught a ball and all that had was a dime?\n[01:23.20] Okay, now we balling, me, Max Lay, and a G lady\n[01:26.56] Put all that rap to the side 'cause we shady\n[01:29.01] Me and Max Samford and son, he like Grady\n[01:31.67] Move to the Hamptons and son, we see gravy\n[01:33.93] I'm quite sure all of us carry a .380\n[01:36.48] For shizzle, I'll put you on ice and your three babies\n[01:39.31] Whether the mic or the rifle, y'all\n[01:41.24] These Eastside cats are coming through to write for y'all\n[01:43.82] Ayo, I rhyme over Quante G\n[01:45.91] Diplomat plates on my RR, so I park for free\n[01:49.16] On the Westside or the FD\n[01:50.96] Wrote a letter to my senator while the feds watching me\n[01:54.05] Never expose myself or show signs of any wealth\n[01:56.71] I was pretty much stealth, I stayed to myself\n[01:59.27] Only talked to one cat and he ain't gon' squeal\n[02:01.92] And I ain't got nothing 'til I close my deal (Max, Max)\n[02:05.19] Yeah, it's a lot of stunting going on this summer, man\n[02:08.33] Y'all think y'all bad boys? Y'all ain't bad boys\n[02:11.12] I got the real bad boys with me\n[02:13.18] Crank that, New Orlean\n[02:13.89] Don't know what you thought this was, we no little kiddies\n[02:17.00] We grown men now, established in big cities\n[02:19.51] And Frank Nittys? I got those crime gestapos\n[02:22.32] Sopranos to Altos, from cops to Alpo\n[02:25.02] Sit back and eat a nacho and watch this nigga\n[02:27.10] As my story unfold like my couch do, nigga\n[02:29.79] Max bigger than you thought you was\n[02:31.36] And caught you cuz with ammo like the army does\n[02:34.16] See, Mac is a menace, a threat to y'all\n[02:36.74] P slipped me a mill' and I'm betting it all\n[02:39.11] I'm Sugar Ray Leonard on tracks\n[02:41.27] With the jab and the hook that wrote the book, so cowboy, just relax\n[02:44.71] A vote for Mac is a vote for wanting it back\n[02:47.42] Trust me, God, everything you touch was crap\n[02:49.84] And I should bust y'all just for that\n[02:51.84] But I'ma chill and fall back and listen to a murderous rap (Kay Slay)\n[02:56.11] Yeah, that's what I'm talking about, baby\n[02:58.05] The Street Sweeper Volume 1, official\n[03:01.08] True to the streets, true to the game\n[03:03.33] True rappers, no fake shit, man\n[03:05.66] This is authentic right here\n[03:07.25] Yo, D-Dot, you did your thing, baby\n[03:09.49] That's what I'm talking about\n[03:10.72] Represent Bad Boy to the fullest\n[03:13.26] 2003 Shit, what?\n[03:16.28] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Everybody Wanna Shine\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: The Streetsweeper, Volume 1\n  duration_ms: 196000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: DJ Kay Slay, the drama king (Drama, baby)\n  start_ms: 3470\n  end_ms: 6380\n- text: Yeah, the bad guy (What?)\n  start_ms: 6380\n  end_ms: 7900\n- text: I got my nigga D-Dot with me\n  start_ms: 7900\n  end_ms: 9640\n- text: And he got the Bad Boys with him\n  start_ms: 9640\n  end_ms: 11400\n- text: Black Rob\n  start_ms: 11400\n  end_ms: 12070\n- text: Too many chiefs and no Indians\n  start_ms: 12070\n  end_ms: 14160\n- text: Niggas wanna shine at the bar, sip Remy and\n  start_ms: 14160\n  end_ms: 16670\n- text: Two-piece denim attire, new Timberland\n  start_ms: 16670\n  end_ms: 19170\n- text: Tryna wild out, reminding me of them gremlins\n  start_ms: 19170\n  end_ms: 21730\n- text: Me and mines low in the cut, it's like the Kremlin\n  start_ms: 21730\n  end_ms: 24300\n- text: Half of these so-called players, I don't remember them\n  start_ms: 24300\n  end_ms: 26630\n- text: In case you didn't know, Bad Boy still an emblem\n  start_ms: 26630\n  end_ms: 29300\n- text: Fucking right it ain't all love, this ain't Wimbledon\n  start_ms: 29300\n  end_ms: 31420\n- text: (All this fronting is sicker than)\n  start_ms: 31420\n  end_ms: 33330\n- text: So when I'm doing it, fam, I'm so sure\n  start_ms: 33330\n  end_ms: 35440\n- text: Everybody wanna shine without reading the brochure\n  start_ms: 35440\n  end_ms: 38150\n- text: Now listen, pay close attention\n  start_ms: 38150\n  end_ms: 40110\n- text: How you eating good when you never had a maid in your kitchen?\n  start_ms: 40110\n  end_ms: 43560\n- text: You wanna be Black Rob? Then grind first\n  start_ms: 43560\n  end_ms: 45680\n- text: No Cris', no Mo', try sipping on wine first\n  start_ms: 45680\n  end_ms: 48660\n- text: Then hit the dealer and purchase the black Saab\n  start_ms: 48660\n  end_ms: 50690\n- text: Maybe you could be the next Kay Slay and Black Rob (Stars)\n  start_ms: 50690\n  end_ms: 54070\n- text: Yeah, that's what I'm talking about\n  start_ms: 54070\n  end_ms: 55850\n- text: Everybody wanna shine, but nobody wanna get in the grind, man\n  start_ms: 55850\n  end_ms: 59480\n- text: Yo, D-Dot, stand up, baby, it's your turn\n  start_ms: 59480\n  end_ms: 62740\n- text: Yo, now get a handle on your scandal 'fore I scramble and bust\n  start_ms: 62740\n  end_ms: 65820\n- text: Pause, plus I don't think y'all gamble enough\n  start_ms: 65820\n  end_ms: 68420\n- text: Y'all don't know when to fold or when to hold\n  start_ms: 68420\n  end_ms: 71080\n- text: When you do plan to throw 'em, your hand is cold\n  start_ms: 71080\n  end_ms: 73370\n- text: I got the touch like Midas, nigga\n  start_ms: 73370\n  end_ms: 75440\n- text: Give rap your tie, you'll fry trying to try this nigga\n  start_ms: 75440\n  end_ms: 79160\n- text: Now everybody wanna shine\n  start_ms: 79160\n  end_ms: 80650\n- text: But where was y'all at when I wanted\n  start_ms: 80650\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: Caught a ball and all that had was a dime?\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 83200\n- text: Okay, now we balling, me, Max Lay, and a G lady\n  start_ms: 83200\n  end_ms: 86560\n- text: Put all that rap to the side 'cause we shady\n  start_ms: 86560\n  end_ms: 89010\n- text: Me and Max Samford and son, he like Grady\n  start_ms: 89010\n  end_ms: 91670\n- text: Move to the Hamptons and son, we see gravy\n  start_ms: 91670\n  end_ms: 93930\n- text: I'm quite sure all of us carry a .380\n  start_ms: 93930\n  end_ms: 96480\n- text: For shizzle, I'll put you on ice and your three babies\n  start_ms: 96480\n  end_ms: 99310\n- text: Whether the mic or the rifle, y'all\n  start_ms: 99310\n  end_ms: 101240\n- text: These Eastside cats are coming through to write for y'all\n  start_ms: 101240\n  end_ms: 103820\n- text: Ayo, I rhyme over Quante G\n  start_ms: 103820\n  end_ms: 105910\n- text: Diplomat plates on my RR, so I park for free\n  start_ms: 105910\n  end_ms: 109160\n- text: On the Westside or the FD\n  start_ms: 109160\n  end_ms: 110960\n- text: Wrote a letter to my senator while the feds watching me\n  start_ms: 110960\n  end_ms: 114050\n- text: Never expose myself or show signs of any wealth\n  start_ms: 114050\n  end_ms: 116710\n- text: I was pretty much stealth, I stayed to myself\n  start_ms: 116710\n  end_ms: 119270\n- text: Only talked to one cat and he ain't gon' squeal\n  start_ms: 119270\n  end_ms: 121920\n- text: And I ain't got nothing 'til I close my deal (Max, Max)\n  start_ms: 121920\n  end_ms: 125190\n- text: Yeah, it's a lot of stunting going on this summer, man\n  start_ms: 125190\n  end_ms: 128330\n- text: Y'all think y'all bad boys? Y'all ain't bad boys\n  start_ms: 128330\n  end_ms: 131120\n- text: I got the real bad boys with me\n  start_ms: 131120\n  end_ms: 133180\n- text: Crank that, New Orlean\n  start_ms: 133180\n  end_ms: 133890\n- text: Don't know what you thought this was, we no little kiddies\n  start_ms: 133890\n  end_ms: 137000\n- text: We grown men now, established in big cities\n  start_ms: 137000\n  end_ms: 139510\n- text: And Frank Nittys? I got those crime gestapos\n  start_ms: 139510\n  end_ms: 142320\n- text: Sopranos to Altos, from cops to Alpo\n  start_ms: 142320\n  end_ms: 145020\n- text: Sit back and eat a nacho and watch this nigga\n  start_ms: 145020\n  end_ms: 147100\n- text: As my story unfold like my couch do, nigga\n  start_ms: 147100\n  end_ms: 149790\n- text: Max bigger than you thought you was\n  start_ms: 149790\n  end_ms: 151360\n- text: And caught you cuz with ammo like the army does\n  start_ms: 151360\n  end_ms: 154160\n- text: See, Mac is a menace, a threat to y'all\n  start_ms: 154160\n  end_ms: 156740\n- text: P slipped me a mill' and I'm betting it all\n  start_ms: 156740\n  end_ms: 159110\n- text: I'm Sugar Ray Leonard on tracks\n  start_ms: 159110\n  end_ms: 161270\n- text: With the jab and the hook that wrote the book, so cowboy, just relax\n  start_ms: 161270\n  end_ms: 164710\n- text: A vote for Mac is a vote for wanting it back\n  start_ms: 164710\n  end_ms: 167420\n- text: Trust me, God, everything you touch was crap\n  start_ms: 167420\n  end_ms: 169840\n- text: And I should bust y'all just for that\n  start_ms: 169840\n  end_ms: 171840\n- text: But I'ma chill and fall back and listen to a murderous rap (Kay Slay)\n  start_ms: 171840\n  end_ms: 176110\n- text: Yeah, that's what I'm talking about, baby\n  start_ms: 176110\n  end_ms: 178050\n- text: The Street Sweeper Volume 1, official\n  start_ms: 178050\n  end_ms: 181080\n- text: True to the streets, true to the game\n  start_ms: 181080\n  end_ms: 183330\n- text: True rappers, no fake shit, man\n  start_ms: 183330\n  end_ms: 185660\n- text: This is authentic right here\n  start_ms: 185660\n  end_ms: 187250\n- text: Yo, D-Dot, you did your thing, baby\n  start_ms: 187250\n  end_ms: 189490\n- text: That's what I'm talking about\n  start_ms: 189490\n  end_ms: 190720\n- text: Represent Bad Boy to the fullest\n  start_ms: 190720\n  end_ms: 193260\n- text: 2003 Shit, what?\n  start_ms: 193260\n  end_ms: 196280\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 196280\nplain: |-\n  DJ Kay Slay, the drama king (Drama, baby)\n  Yeah, the bad guy (What?)\n  I got my nigga D-Dot with me\n  And he got the Bad Boys with him\n  Black Rob\n\n  Too many chiefs and no Indians\n  Niggas wanna shine at the bar, sip Remy and\n  Two-piece denim attire, new Timberland\n  Tryna wild out, reminding me of them gremlins\n  Me and mines low in the cut, it's like the Kremlin\n\n  Half of these so-called players, I don't remember them\n  In case you didn't know, Bad Boy still an emblem\n  Fucking right it ain't all love, this ain't Wimbledon\n  (All this fronting is sicker than)\n  So when I'm doing it, fam, I'm so sure\n  Everybody wanna shine without reading the brochure\n\n  Now listen, pay close attention\n  How you eating good when you never had a maid in your kitchen?\n  You wanna be Black Rob? Then grind first\n  No Cris', no Mo', try sipping on wine first\n  Then hit the dealer and purchase the black Saab\n  Maybe you could be the next Kay Slay and Black Rob (Stars)\n\n  Yeah, that's what I'm talking about\n  Everybody wanna shine, but nobody wanna get in the grind, man\n  Yo, D-Dot, stand up, baby, it's your turn\n\n  Yo, now get a handle on your scandal 'fore I scramble and bust\n  Pause, plus I don't think y'all gamble enough\n  Y'all don't know when to fold or when to hold\n  When you do plan to throw 'em, your hand is cold\n  I got the touch like Midas, nigga\n  Give rap your tie, you'll fry trying to try this nigga\n\n  Now everybody wanna shine\n  But where was y'all at when I wanted\n  Caught a ball and all that had was a dime?\n  Okay, now we balling, me, Max Lay, and a G lady\n\n  Put all that rap to the side 'cause we shady\n\n  Me and Max Samford and son, he like Grady\n  Move to the Hamptons and son, we see gravy\n  I'm quite sure all of us carry a .380\n  For shizzle, I'll put you on ice and your three babies\n\n  Whether the mic or the rifle, y'all\n  These Eastside cats are coming through to write for y'all\n  Ayo, I rhyme over Quante G\n  Diplomat plates on my RR, so I park for free\n  On the Westside or the FD\n  Wrote a letter to my senator while the feds watching me\n  Never expose myself or show signs of any wealth\n  I was pretty much stealth, I stayed to myself\n  Only talked to one cat and he ain't gon' squeal\n  And I ain't got nothing 'til I close my deal (Max, Max)\n\n  Yeah, it's a lot of stunting going on this summer, man\n  Y'all think y'all bad boys? Y'all ain't bad boys\n  I got the real bad boys with me\n  Crank that, New Orlean\n\n  Don't know what you thought this was, we no little kiddies\n  We grown men now, established in big cities\n  And Frank Nittys? I got those crime gestapos\n  Sopranos to Altos, from cops to Alpo\n\n  Sit back and eat a nacho and watch this nigga\n  As my story unfold like my couch do, nigga\n\n  Max bigger than you thought you was\n  And caught you cuz with ammo like the army does\n  See, Mac is a menace, a threat to y'all\n  P slipped me a mill' and I'm betting it all\n  I'm Sugar Ray Leonard on tracks\n  With the jab and the hook that wrote the book, so cowboy, just relax\n  A vote for Mac is a vote for wanting it back\n  Trust me, God, everything you touch was crap\n  And I should bust y'all just for that\n  But I'ma chill and fall back and listen to a murderous rap (Kay Slay)\n\n  Yeah, that's what I'm talking about, baby\n  The Street Sweeper Volume 1, official\n  True to the streets, true to the game\n  True rappers, no fake shit, man\n  This is authentic right here\n  Yo, D-Dot, you did your thing, baby\n  That's what I'm talking about\n  Represent Bad Boy to the fullest\n  2003 Shit, what?\n"}]