[{"id":37516859,"name":"Through Your Head","trackName":"Through Your Head","artistName":"DJ Kay Slay","albumName":"The Streetsweeper Vol. 2: The Pain From The Game","duration":337.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Get this thing through your head\nThou shall never never be no more\nTell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n\nHey yo I move with a clique that's reckless\nAnd ain't got no problem spraying your ass like disinfectant\nSo if I feel disrespected\nI promise you family your body gon' be hollow tip infested\nI come from the slums of the 2-1-2\nH-Dub, Lennox Ave., fuck you gon' do?\nWe got wild clips duke\nWith things that'll hit you and leave a hole so\nBig your moms could put her whole wrist through\n\nHolmes, you don't wanna push me there\nTo the point I gotta leave you in a bush somewhere\nNah, you don't wanna push me there\nIt ain't worth it dog (nah)\nHomeboy you better (better)\n\nBefore I aim and you (you)\n\nYou heard Mill's real and believe it stupid cuz (that's no lie)\nC'mon, Slay you know who to holler at\nI'm heavy everywhere from Harlem to the\nBottom where the rude boys and shottas at\nHell is what I'm givin 'em, fuck hurtin I'm killin 'em\nGot legends ready to pick back up they pen and spit again\n\nI merge to the track, the perfect of rap\nIt's nonsense how the don get curved at the clap\nYou missed me simply, I asserted the trap\nK-class, the same game, durable packs\nMobsters with the arms up\nIn the game put me bomb up\nAs I calm down, this is Ainge theory uh\n\nI may bury the whole league in Jones Beach\nAnd Bayberry, the eight carries your soul sleep\n\nSo breathe, Ainge God in the building, OG's\nAinge honor the brilliant and sever the minds\nThat push the breath of the best to collide\nBetter yet I put the F in define\nNever fret when it's beef I put the pep in the nine\nFrom your brain to my watch you'll be ahead of my time\nAinge shift, your brain whisp, the gates aim to lift\nThe game'll keep going cause Aingealistic sits bitch\nGet this thing through your head\nThou shall never never be no more\n\nTell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n\nWhat up? It's Cashmere, y'all your new rap fellow\nManhood like the jam in '86, hello\n\nYou know what that means, y'all the rap queens\nBunch of bitch niggas, bow to your new king\nAnd after this it won't be no more\nY'all dudes is full of hype, that's what TV's for\nSo, get it through your head\n\nOn the 9 I leave eight holes through your head\nYou think I'm playin nigga?\nI have my peeps hop out the van\nLeave you lookin like a soldier outta Pakistan\n\nAsk them dudes on this track, they'll tell you Cash the man\nWhatever he's doin, trust me I know I can\nI'm ahead of 'em, eight miles and runnin\nI'm done bustin shots, the next hit's a bomb drop\nYou cocksuckers is about to die, and (that's no lie)\nLet's go, c'mon\nGet this thing through your head\nThou shall never never be no more\n\nTell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n\nEither you get it through the head or you get it through the leg\nEither way you put it this bullet is gon' leave you dead\nAnd I ain't freezin up when it's time\nTo pull it, you heard what I said\nThe state or nigga, we all about the bread\nAnd it's time for a reality check\nGhetto celeb in the hood, and I ain't even see a salary yet\n\nY'all niggas flee when my cavalry step\n\nStaten Island we rep\nStyle into death, pumpin gallons of wet\nAnd like Nick, yeah I stay with the cannon\n\nLayin for a bit, get you stuck wherever you standin\nLay you on the strip, blaze for a bitch\nYou punk pussy, you dealin with crumbs\nSo stop actin like you want some cookies\nI'm not the greatest, I'm the latest, y'all faggots is imitators\nAir you out like ventilators and peel you like skin potatoes\nCause most of y'all faggots be soundin like little Jada's\n\nYo I speak for the Stuy\nBrooklyn is mines, get it through your head\n'Fore I round these bullets up and send 'em through your head\nLast nigga tried to stunt left his hat full of lead\nThat's the picture that you see on the inside of feds\nI want you to think that my gun don't burst\nMy Tec'll make niggas back up like cars in reverse\nDefinition of a thug mean put in your work\nA nigga act up, you put his whole earth in the earth\n\nYeah I'm hotter than you ever was\nReal you never was\nHustle hard nigga we get you whatever drugs\nBet you none of y'all seen machine guns rattle\nSo I let off and let you feel the heat off the barrel\nMy dogs locked up, he got you and you hit the gravel\nBeen a hard hitter before the Mets signed Darrow\nI'm your reaper when I flash the street sweeper\nYou bitch niggas'll crack up like cheap sneakers\nGet this thing through your head\n\nThou shall never never be no more\n\nTell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n\nYo, y'all niggas keep talkin greasy like I won't out y'all\nSee me in the streets, got more smiles than Southstar\nPull your socks up homie, you know what I'm about yo\nI was pushin rocks, you push the rock for gauchos\nLot of niggas thuggin but not like me\n\nPut the fifth to your nose for bein nosey\n\nFuck a throwback jersey, you tryin to be Fabolous\nEnd your career, have you in a service like Canibus\nNiggas shouldn't have let me loose\nI'm wild when I'm sober, imagine off cran and Grey Goose\nI'm liable to clap the Tec, make you take your chain off\nBut I don't want a rash on my neck\n\nShit we ain't the same caliber, Lizzie a don\nI treat hoes how I wanna, even got a bad blonde\nGot bad feet, so I hit her with her shoes on\nGet this through your head before I flip over your Yukon\n\nStreet sweeper cocked back, run up where your block at\nGettin money? Stop that, where the fuckin rocks at?\nBandana on my face, 39 on my waist\nTwo-fifty tryin to run, nigga you ain't gettin chased\nYou was poppin hella shit, all that shit irrelevant\nSittin on cake, and you waitin on a settlement?\nI'm a grown man, never run, never ran\n\nAnd I don't play with kids, this ain't Never Never Land\nBrooklyn, fuck that, crack is where my nuts at\nYou can buck that through your fond duck tat\nI smoke cocoa brother, stay with a Smith and Wesson\nSkip Jay at the Garden and hit Slay's session\n\nBad Seed from the top of the hill, it's still real\nTarantino flow, keep it low, I kill Bill","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.35] Get this thing through your head\n[00:02.30] Thou shall never never be no more\n[00:05.23] Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n[00:09.83] \n[00:15.54] Hey yo I move with a clique that's reckless\n[00:17.66] And ain't got no problem spraying your ass like disinfectant\n[00:21.19] So if I feel disrespected\n[00:23.08] I promise you family your body gon' be hollow tip infested\n[00:26.40] I come from the slums of the 2-1-2\n[00:28.89] H-Dub, Lennox Ave., fuck you gon' do?\n[00:31.36] We got wild clips duke\n[00:32.94] With things that'll hit you and leave a hole so\n[00:35.09] Big your moms could put her whole wrist through\n[00:37.39] Holmes, you don't wanna push me there\n[00:39.43] To the point I gotta leave you in a bush somewhere\n[00:42.10] Nah, you don't wanna push me there\n[00:44.06] It ain't worth it dog (nah)\n[00:45.29] Homeboy you better (better)\n[00:47.77] Before I aim and you (you)\n[00:50.39] You heard Mill's real and believe it stupid cuz (that's no lie)\n[00:54.34] C'mon, Slay you know who to holler at\n[00:57.00] I'm heavy everywhere from Harlem to the\n[00:58.71] Bottom where the rude boys and shottas at\n[01:00.79] Hell is what I'm givin 'em, fuck hurtin I'm killin 'em\n[01:03.11] Got legends ready to pick back up they pen and spit again\n[01:06.12] I merge to the track, the perfect of rap\n[01:08.10] It's nonsense how the don get curved at the clap\n[01:10.83] You missed me simply, I asserted the trap\n[01:13.55] K-class, the same game, durable packs\n[01:16.20] Mobsters with the arms up\n[01:17.82] In the game put me bomb up\n[01:19.43] As I calm down, this is Ainge theory uh\n[01:21.95] I may bury the whole league in Jones Beach\n[01:24.52] And Bayberry, the eight carries your soul sleep\n[01:27.36] So breathe, Ainge God in the building, OG's\n[01:30.00] Ainge honor the brilliant and sever the minds\n[01:32.39] That push the breath of the best to collide\n[01:34.65] Better yet I put the F in define\n[01:36.68] Never fret when it's beef I put the pep in the nine\n[01:39.29] From your brain to my watch you'll be ahead of my time\n[01:41.95] Ainge shift, your brain whisp, the gates aim to lift\n[01:45.34] The game'll keep going cause Aingealistic sits bitch\n[01:48.74] Get this thing through your head\n[01:50.34] Thou shall never never be no more\n[01:53.44] Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n[01:55.68] What up? It's Cashmere, y'all your new rap fellow\n[01:58.44] Manhood like the jam in '86, hello\n[02:01.41] You know what that means, y'all the rap queens\n[02:04.27] Bunch of bitch niggas, bow to your new king\n[02:06.72] And after this it won't be no more\n[02:08.63] Y'all dudes is full of hype, that's what TV's for\n[02:11.54] So, get it through your head\n[02:13.47] On the 9 I leave eight holes through your head\n[02:15.87] You think I'm playin nigga?\n[02:17.39] I have my peeps hop out the van\n[02:19.28] Leave you lookin like a soldier outta Pakistan\n[02:21.93] Ask them dudes on this track, they'll tell you Cash the man\n[02:24.52] Whatever he's doin, trust me I know I can\n[02:27.98] I'm ahead of 'em, eight miles and runnin\n[02:30.18] I'm done bustin shots, the next hit's a bomb drop\n[02:33.00] You cocksuckers is about to die, and (that's no lie)\n[02:37.10] Let's go, c'mon\n[02:38.47] Get this thing through your head\n[02:40.43] Thou shall never never be no more\n[02:43.56] Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n[02:45.62] Either you get it through the head or you get it through the leg\n[02:48.35] Either way you put it this bullet is gon' leave you dead\n[02:51.25] And I ain't freezin up when it's time\n[02:52.68] To pull it, you heard what I said\n[02:54.07] The state or nigga, we all about the bread\n[02:56.26] And it's time for a reality check\n[02:58.17] Ghetto celeb in the hood, and I ain't even see a salary yet\n[03:01.46] Y'all niggas flee when my cavalry step\n[03:03.42] Staten Island we rep\n[03:04.61] Style into death, pumpin gallons of wet\n[03:06.65] And like Nick, yeah I stay with the cannon\n[03:08.74] Layin for a bit, get you stuck wherever you standin\n[03:11.38] Lay you on the strip, blaze for a bitch\n[03:13.35] You punk pussy, you dealin with crumbs\n[03:15.19] So stop actin like you want some cookies\n[03:17.12] I'm not the greatest, I'm the latest, y'all faggots is imitators\n[03:19.98] Air you out like ventilators and peel you like skin potatoes\n[03:22.73] Cause most of y'all faggots be soundin like little Jada's\n[03:27.18] Yo I speak for the Stuy\n[03:28.65] Brooklyn is mines, get it through your head\n[03:30.43] 'Fore I round these bullets up and send 'em through your head\n[03:33.17] Last nigga tried to stunt left his hat full of lead\n[03:35.67] That's the picture that you see on the inside of feds\n[03:38.55] I want you to think that my gun don't burst\n[03:40.86] My Tec'll make niggas back up like cars in reverse\n[03:43.66] Definition of a thug mean put in your work\n[03:46.15] A nigga act up, you put his whole earth in the earth\n[03:48.86] Yeah I'm hotter than you ever was\n[03:50.82] Real you never was\n[03:51.89] Hustle hard nigga we get you whatever drugs\n[03:54.13] Bet you none of y'all seen machine guns rattle\n[03:56.85] So I let off and let you feel the heat off the barrel\n[03:59.24] My dogs locked up, he got you and you hit the gravel\n[04:02.08] Been a hard hitter before the Mets signed Darrow\n[04:04.73] I'm your reaper when I flash the street sweeper\n[04:07.52] You bitch niggas'll crack up like cheap sneakers\n[04:10.64] Get this thing through your head\n[04:12.60] Thou shall never never be no more\n[04:15.78] Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n[04:17.27] Yo, y'all niggas keep talkin greasy like I won't out y'all\n[04:21.02] See me in the streets, got more smiles than Southstar\n[04:23.63] Pull your socks up homie, you know what I'm about yo\n[04:26.22] I was pushin rocks, you push the rock for gauchos\n[04:28.91] Lot of niggas thuggin but not like me\n[04:31.19] Put the fifth to your nose for bein nosey\n[04:33.81] Fuck a throwback jersey, you tryin to be Fabolous\n[04:36.83] End your career, have you in a service like Canibus\n[04:39.38] Niggas shouldn't have let me loose\n[04:41.25] I'm wild when I'm sober, imagine off cran and Grey Goose\n[04:44.52] I'm liable to clap the Tec, make you take your chain off\n[04:47.82] But I don't want a rash on my neck\n[04:49.68] Shit we ain't the same caliber, Lizzie a don\n[04:52.19] I treat hoes how I wanna, even got a bad blonde\n[04:54.81] Got bad feet, so I hit her with her shoes on\n[04:57.83] Get this through your head before I flip over your Yukon\n[05:00.47] Street sweeper cocked back, run up where your block at\n[05:03.16] Gettin money? Stop that, where the fuckin rocks at?\n[05:05.89] Bandana on my face, 39 on my waist\n[05:08.32] Two-fifty tryin to run, nigga you ain't gettin chased\n[05:11.08] You was poppin hella shit, all that shit irrelevant\n[05:13.68] Sittin on cake, and you waitin on a settlement?\n[05:16.56] I'm a grown man, never run, never ran\n[05:19.03] And I don't play with kids, this ain't Never Never Land\n[05:21.63] Brooklyn, fuck that, crack is where my nuts at\n[05:24.44] You can buck that through your fond duck tat\n[05:26.97] I smoke cocoa brother, stay with a Smith and Wesson\n[05:29.75] Skip Jay at the Garden and hit Slay's session\n[05:32.49] Bad Seed from the top of the hill, it's still real\n[05:35.08] Tarantino flow, keep it low, I kill Bill\n[05:37.13] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Through Your Head\n  artist: DJ Kay Slay\n  album: 'The Streetsweeper Vol. 2: The Pain From The Game'\n  duration_ms: 337000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Get this thing through your head\n  start_ms: 350\n  end_ms: 2300\n- text: Thou shall never never be no more\n  start_ms: 2300\n  end_ms: 5230\n- text: Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n  start_ms: 5230\n  end_ms: 9830\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 9830\n  end_ms: 15540\n- text: Hey yo I move with a clique that's reckless\n  start_ms: 15540\n  end_ms: 17660\n- text: And ain't got no problem spraying your ass like disinfectant\n  start_ms: 17660\n  end_ms: 21190\n- text: So if I feel disrespected\n  start_ms: 21190\n  end_ms: 23080\n- text: I promise you family your body gon' be hollow tip infested\n  start_ms: 23080\n  end_ms: 26400\n- text: I come from the slums of the 2-1-2\n  start_ms: 26400\n  end_ms: 28890\n- text: H-Dub, Lennox Ave., fuck you gon' do?\n  start_ms: 28890\n  end_ms: 31360\n- text: We got wild clips duke\n  start_ms: 31360\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: With things that'll hit you and leave a hole so\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 35090\n- text: Big your moms could put her whole wrist through\n  start_ms: 35090\n  end_ms: 37390\n- text: Holmes, you don't wanna push me there\n  start_ms: 37390\n  end_ms: 39430\n- text: To the point I gotta leave you in a bush somewhere\n  start_ms: 39430\n  end_ms: 42100\n- text: Nah, you don't wanna push me there\n  start_ms: 42100\n  end_ms: 44060\n- text: It ain't worth it dog (nah)\n  start_ms: 44060\n  end_ms: 45290\n- text: Homeboy you better (better)\n  start_ms: 45290\n  end_ms: 47770\n- text: Before I aim and you (you)\n  start_ms: 47770\n  end_ms: 50390\n- text: You heard Mill's real and believe it stupid cuz (that's no lie)\n  start_ms: 50390\n  end_ms: 54340\n- text: C'mon, Slay you know who to holler at\n  start_ms: 54340\n  end_ms: 57000\n- text: I'm heavy everywhere from Harlem to the\n  start_ms: 57000\n  end_ms: 58710\n- text: Bottom where the rude boys and shottas at\n  start_ms: 58710\n  end_ms: 60790\n- text: Hell is what I'm givin 'em, fuck hurtin I'm killin 'em\n  start_ms: 60790\n  end_ms: 63110\n- text: Got legends ready to pick back up they pen and spit again\n  start_ms: 63110\n  end_ms: 66120\n- text: I merge to the track, the perfect of rap\n  start_ms: 66120\n  end_ms: 68100\n- text: It's nonsense how the don get curved at the clap\n  start_ms: 68100\n  end_ms: 70830\n- text: You missed me simply, I asserted the trap\n  start_ms: 70830\n  end_ms: 73550\n- text: K-class, the same game, durable packs\n  start_ms: 73550\n  end_ms: 76200\n- text: Mobsters with the arms up\n  start_ms: 76200\n  end_ms: 77820\n- text: In the game put me bomb up\n  start_ms: 77820\n  end_ms: 79430\n- text: As I calm down, this is Ainge theory uh\n  start_ms: 79430\n  end_ms: 81950\n- text: I may bury the whole league in Jones Beach\n  start_ms: 81950\n  end_ms: 84520\n- text: And Bayberry, the eight carries your soul sleep\n  start_ms: 84520\n  end_ms: 87360\n- text: So breathe, Ainge God in the building, OG's\n  start_ms: 87360\n  end_ms: 90000\n- text: Ainge honor the brilliant and sever the minds\n  start_ms: 90000\n  end_ms: 92390\n- text: That push the breath of the best to collide\n  start_ms: 92390\n  end_ms: 94650\n- text: Better yet I put the F in define\n  start_ms: 94650\n  end_ms: 96680\n- text: Never fret when it's beef I put the pep in the nine\n  start_ms: 96680\n  end_ms: 99290\n- text: From your brain to my watch you'll be ahead of my time\n  start_ms: 99290\n  end_ms: 101950\n- text: Ainge shift, your brain whisp, the gates aim to lift\n  start_ms: 101950\n  end_ms: 105340\n- text: The game'll keep going cause Aingealistic sits bitch\n  start_ms: 105340\n  end_ms: 108740\n- text: Get this thing through your head\n  start_ms: 108740\n  end_ms: 110340\n- text: Thou shall never never be no more\n  start_ms: 110340\n  end_ms: 113440\n- text: Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n  start_ms: 113440\n  end_ms: 115680\n- text: What up? It's Cashmere, y'all your new rap fellow\n  start_ms: 115680\n  end_ms: 118440\n- text: Manhood like the jam in '86, hello\n  start_ms: 118440\n  end_ms: 121410\n- text: You know what that means, y'all the rap queens\n  start_ms: 121410\n  end_ms: 124270\n- text: Bunch of bitch niggas, bow to your new king\n  start_ms: 124270\n  end_ms: 126720\n- text: And after this it won't be no more\n  start_ms: 126720\n  end_ms: 128630\n- text: Y'all dudes is full of hype, that's what TV's for\n  start_ms: 128630\n  end_ms: 131540\n- text: So, get it through your head\n  start_ms: 131540\n  end_ms: 133470\n- text: On the 9 I leave eight holes through your head\n  start_ms: 133470\n  end_ms: 135870\n- text: You think I'm playin nigga?\n  start_ms: 135870\n  end_ms: 137390\n- text: I have my peeps hop out the van\n  start_ms: 137390\n  end_ms: 139280\n- text: Leave you lookin like a soldier outta Pakistan\n  start_ms: 139280\n  end_ms: 141930\n- text: Ask them dudes on this track, they'll tell you Cash the man\n  start_ms: 141930\n  end_ms: 144520\n- text: Whatever he's doin, trust me I know I can\n  start_ms: 144520\n  end_ms: 147980\n- text: I'm ahead of 'em, eight miles and runnin\n  start_ms: 147980\n  end_ms: 150180\n- text: I'm done bustin shots, the next hit's a bomb drop\n  start_ms: 150180\n  end_ms: 153000\n- text: You cocksuckers is about to die, and (that's no lie)\n  start_ms: 153000\n  end_ms: 157100\n- text: Let's go, c'mon\n  start_ms: 157100\n  end_ms: 158470\n- text: Get this thing through your head\n  start_ms: 158470\n  end_ms: 160430\n- text: Thou shall never never be no more\n  start_ms: 160430\n  end_ms: 163560\n- text: Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n  start_ms: 163560\n  end_ms: 165620\n- text: Either you get it through the head or you get it through the leg\n  start_ms: 165620\n  end_ms: 168350\n- text: Either way you put it this bullet is gon' leave you dead\n  start_ms: 168350\n  end_ms: 171250\n- text: And I ain't freezin up when it's time\n  start_ms: 171250\n  end_ms: 172680\n- text: To pull it, you heard what I said\n  start_ms: 172680\n  end_ms: 174070\n- text: The state or nigga, we all about the bread\n  start_ms: 174070\n  end_ms: 176260\n- text: And it's time for a reality check\n  start_ms: 176260\n  end_ms: 178170\n- text: Ghetto celeb in the hood, and I ain't even see a salary yet\n  start_ms: 178170\n  end_ms: 181460\n- text: Y'all niggas flee when my cavalry step\n  start_ms: 181460\n  end_ms: 183420\n- text: Staten Island we rep\n  start_ms: 183420\n  end_ms: 184610\n- text: Style into death, pumpin gallons of wet\n  start_ms: 184610\n  end_ms: 186650\n- text: And like Nick, yeah I stay with the cannon\n  start_ms: 186650\n  end_ms: 188740\n- text: Layin for a bit, get you stuck wherever you standin\n  start_ms: 188740\n  end_ms: 191380\n- text: Lay you on the strip, blaze for a bitch\n  start_ms: 191380\n  end_ms: 193350\n- text: You punk pussy, you dealin with crumbs\n  start_ms: 193350\n  end_ms: 195190\n- text: So stop actin like you want some cookies\n  start_ms: 195190\n  end_ms: 197120\n- text: I'm not the greatest, I'm the latest, y'all faggots is imitators\n  start_ms: 197120\n  end_ms: 199980\n- text: Air you out like ventilators and peel you like skin potatoes\n  start_ms: 199980\n  end_ms: 202730\n- text: Cause most of y'all faggots be soundin like little Jada's\n  start_ms: 202730\n  end_ms: 207180\n- text: Yo I speak for the Stuy\n  start_ms: 207180\n  end_ms: 208650\n- text: Brooklyn is mines, get it through your head\n  start_ms: 208650\n  end_ms: 210430\n- text: '''Fore I round these bullets up and send ''em through your head'\n  start_ms: 210430\n  end_ms: 213170\n- text: Last nigga tried to stunt left his hat full of lead\n  start_ms: 213170\n  end_ms: 215670\n- text: That's the picture that you see on the inside of feds\n  start_ms: 215670\n  end_ms: 218550\n- text: I want you to think that my gun don't burst\n  start_ms: 218550\n  end_ms: 220860\n- text: My Tec'll make niggas back up like cars in reverse\n  start_ms: 220860\n  end_ms: 223660\n- text: Definition of a thug mean put in your work\n  start_ms: 223660\n  end_ms: 226150\n- text: A nigga act up, you put his whole earth in the earth\n  start_ms: 226150\n  end_ms: 228860\n- text: Yeah I'm hotter than you ever was\n  start_ms: 228860\n  end_ms: 230820\n- text: Real you never was\n  start_ms: 230820\n  end_ms: 231890\n- text: Hustle hard nigga we get you whatever drugs\n  start_ms: 231890\n  end_ms: 234130\n- text: Bet you none of y'all seen machine guns rattle\n  start_ms: 234130\n  end_ms: 236850\n- text: So I let off and let you feel the heat off the barrel\n  start_ms: 236850\n  end_ms: 239240\n- text: My dogs locked up, he got you and you hit the gravel\n  start_ms: 239240\n  end_ms: 242080\n- text: Been a hard hitter before the Mets signed Darrow\n  start_ms: 242080\n  end_ms: 244730\n- text: I'm your reaper when I flash the street sweeper\n  start_ms: 244730\n  end_ms: 247520\n- text: You bitch niggas'll crack up like cheap sneakers\n  start_ms: 247520\n  end_ms: 250640\n- text: Get this thing through your head\n  start_ms: 250640\n  end_ms: 252600\n- text: Thou shall never never be no more\n  start_ms: 252600\n  end_ms: 255780\n- text: Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n  start_ms: 255780\n  end_ms: 257270\n- text: Yo, y'all niggas keep talkin greasy like I won't out y'all\n  start_ms: 257270\n  end_ms: 261020\n- text: See me in the streets, got more smiles than Southstar\n  start_ms: 261020\n  end_ms: 263630\n- text: Pull your socks up homie, you know what I'm about yo\n  start_ms: 263630\n  end_ms: 266220\n- text: I was pushin rocks, you push the rock for gauchos\n  start_ms: 266220\n  end_ms: 268910\n- text: Lot of niggas thuggin but not like me\n  start_ms: 268910\n  end_ms: 271190\n- text: Put the fifth to your nose for bein nosey\n  start_ms: 271190\n  end_ms: 273810\n- text: Fuck a throwback jersey, you tryin to be Fabolous\n  start_ms: 273810\n  end_ms: 276830\n- text: End your career, have you in a service like Canibus\n  start_ms: 276830\n  end_ms: 279380\n- text: Niggas shouldn't have let me loose\n  start_ms: 279380\n  end_ms: 281250\n- text: I'm wild when I'm sober, imagine off cran and Grey Goose\n  start_ms: 281250\n  end_ms: 284520\n- text: I'm liable to clap the Tec, make you take your chain off\n  start_ms: 284520\n  end_ms: 287820\n- text: But I don't want a rash on my neck\n  start_ms: 287820\n  end_ms: 289680\n- text: Shit we ain't the same caliber, Lizzie a don\n  start_ms: 289680\n  end_ms: 292190\n- text: I treat hoes how I wanna, even got a bad blonde\n  start_ms: 292190\n  end_ms: 294810\n- text: Got bad feet, so I hit her with her shoes on\n  start_ms: 294810\n  end_ms: 297830\n- text: Get this through your head before I flip over your Yukon\n  start_ms: 297830\n  end_ms: 300470\n- text: Street sweeper cocked back, run up where your block at\n  start_ms: 300470\n  end_ms: 303160\n- text: Gettin money? Stop that, where the fuckin rocks at?\n  start_ms: 303160\n  end_ms: 305890\n- text: Bandana on my face, 39 on my waist\n  start_ms: 305890\n  end_ms: 308320\n- text: Two-fifty tryin to run, nigga you ain't gettin chased\n  start_ms: 308320\n  end_ms: 311080\n- text: You was poppin hella shit, all that shit irrelevant\n  start_ms: 311080\n  end_ms: 313680\n- text: Sittin on cake, and you waitin on a settlement?\n  start_ms: 313680\n  end_ms: 316560\n- text: I'm a grown man, never run, never ran\n  start_ms: 316560\n  end_ms: 319030\n- text: And I don't play with kids, this ain't Never Never Land\n  start_ms: 319030\n  end_ms: 321630\n- text: Brooklyn, fuck that, crack is where my nuts at\n  start_ms: 321630\n  end_ms: 324440\n- text: You can buck that through your fond duck tat\n  start_ms: 324440\n  end_ms: 326970\n- text: I smoke cocoa brother, stay with a Smith and Wesson\n  start_ms: 326970\n  end_ms: 329750\n- text: Skip Jay at the Garden and hit Slay's session\n  start_ms: 329750\n  end_ms: 332490\n- text: Bad Seed from the top of the hill, it's still real\n  start_ms: 332490\n  end_ms: 335080\n- text: Tarantino flow, keep it low, I kill Bill\n  start_ms: 335080\n  end_ms: 337130\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 337130\nplain: |-\n  Get this thing through your head\n  Thou shall never never be no more\n  Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n\n  Hey yo I move with a clique that's reckless\n  And ain't got no problem spraying your ass like disinfectant\n  So if I feel disrespected\n  I promise you family your body gon' be hollow tip infested\n  I come from the slums of the 2-1-2\n  H-Dub, Lennox Ave., fuck you gon' do?\n  We got wild clips duke\n  With things that'll hit you and leave a hole so\n  Big your moms could put her whole wrist through\n\n  Holmes, you don't wanna push me there\n  To the point I gotta leave you in a bush somewhere\n  Nah, you don't wanna push me there\n  It ain't worth it dog (nah)\n  Homeboy you better (better)\n\n  Before I aim and you (you)\n\n  You heard Mill's real and believe it stupid cuz (that's no lie)\n  C'mon, Slay you know who to holler at\n  I'm heavy everywhere from Harlem to the\n  Bottom where the rude boys and shottas at\n  Hell is what I'm givin 'em, fuck hurtin I'm killin 'em\n  Got legends ready to pick back up they pen and spit again\n\n  I merge to the track, the perfect of rap\n  It's nonsense how the don get curved at the clap\n  You missed me simply, I asserted the trap\n  K-class, the same game, durable packs\n  Mobsters with the arms up\n  In the game put me bomb up\n  As I calm down, this is Ainge theory uh\n\n  I may bury the whole league in Jones Beach\n  And Bayberry, the eight carries your soul sleep\n\n  So breathe, Ainge God in the building, OG's\n  Ainge honor the brilliant and sever the minds\n  That push the breath of the best to collide\n  Better yet I put the F in define\n  Never fret when it's beef I put the pep in the nine\n  From your brain to my watch you'll be ahead of my time\n  Ainge shift, your brain whisp, the gates aim to lift\n  The game'll keep going cause Aingealistic sits bitch\n  Get this thing through your head\n  Thou shall never never be no more\n\n  Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n\n  What up? It's Cashmere, y'all your new rap fellow\n  Manhood like the jam in '86, hello\n\n  You know what that means, y'all the rap queens\n  Bunch of bitch niggas, bow to your new king\n  And after this it won't be no more\n  Y'all dudes is full of hype, that's what TV's for\n  So, get it through your head\n\n  On the 9 I leave eight holes through your head\n  You think I'm playin nigga?\n  I have my peeps hop out the van\n  Leave you lookin like a soldier outta Pakistan\n\n  Ask them dudes on this track, they'll tell you Cash the man\n  Whatever he's doin, trust me I know I can\n  I'm ahead of 'em, eight miles and runnin\n  I'm done bustin shots, the next hit's a bomb drop\n  You cocksuckers is about to die, and (that's no lie)\n  Let's go, c'mon\n  Get this thing through your head\n  Thou shall never never be no more\n\n  Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n\n  Either you get it through the head or you get it through the leg\n  Either way you put it this bullet is gon' leave you dead\n  And I ain't freezin up when it's time\n  To pull it, you heard what I said\n  The state or nigga, we all about the bread\n  And it's time for a reality check\n  Ghetto celeb in the hood, and I ain't even see a salary yet\n\n  Y'all niggas flee when my cavalry step\n\n  Staten Island we rep\n  Style into death, pumpin gallons of wet\n  And like Nick, yeah I stay with the cannon\n\n  Layin for a bit, get you stuck wherever you standin\n  Lay you on the strip, blaze for a bitch\n  You punk pussy, you dealin with crumbs\n  So stop actin like you want some cookies\n  I'm not the greatest, I'm the latest, y'all faggots is imitators\n  Air you out like ventilators and peel you like skin potatoes\n  Cause most of y'all faggots be soundin like little Jada's\n\n  Yo I speak for the Stuy\n  Brooklyn is mines, get it through your head\n  'Fore I round these bullets up and send 'em through your head\n  Last nigga tried to stunt left his hat full of lead\n  That's the picture that you see on the inside of feds\n  I want you to think that my gun don't burst\n  My Tec'll make niggas back up like cars in reverse\n  Definition of a thug mean put in your work\n  A nigga act up, you put his whole earth in the earth\n\n  Yeah I'm hotter than you ever was\n  Real you never was\n  Hustle hard nigga we get you whatever drugs\n  Bet you none of y'all seen machine guns rattle\n  So I let off and let you feel the heat off the barrel\n  My dogs locked up, he got you and you hit the gravel\n  Been a hard hitter before the Mets signed Darrow\n  I'm your reaper when I flash the street sweeper\n  You bitch niggas'll crack up like cheap sneakers\n  Get this thing through your head\n\n  Thou shall never never be no more\n\n  Tell me, tell me about a dreamin'\n\n  Yo, y'all niggas keep talkin greasy like I won't out y'all\n  See me in the streets, got more smiles than Southstar\n  Pull your socks up homie, you know what I'm about yo\n  I was pushin rocks, you push the rock for gauchos\n  Lot of niggas thuggin but not like me\n\n  Put the fifth to your nose for bein nosey\n\n  Fuck a throwback jersey, you tryin to be Fabolous\n  End your career, have you in a service like Canibus\n  Niggas shouldn't have let me loose\n  I'm wild when I'm sober, imagine off cran and Grey Goose\n  I'm liable to clap the Tec, make you take your chain off\n  But I don't want a rash on my neck\n\n  Shit we ain't the same caliber, Lizzie a don\n  I treat hoes how I wanna, even got a bad blonde\n  Got bad feet, so I hit her with her shoes on\n  Get this through your head before I flip over your Yukon\n\n  Street sweeper cocked back, run up where your block at\n  Gettin money? Stop that, where the fuckin rocks at?\n  Bandana on my face, 39 on my waist\n  Two-fifty tryin to run, nigga you ain't gettin chased\n  You was poppin hella shit, all that shit irrelevant\n  Sittin on cake, and you waitin on a settlement?\n  I'm a grown man, never run, never ran\n\n  And I don't play with kids, this ain't Never Never Land\n  Brooklyn, fuck that, crack is where my nuts at\n  You can buck that through your fond duck tat\n  I smoke cocoa brother, stay with a Smith and Wesson\n  Skip Jay at the Garden and hit Slay's session\n\n  Bad Seed from the top of the hill, it's still real\n  Tarantino flow, keep it low, I kill Bill\n"}]