[{"id":19174665,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"DMX","duration":300.277583,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\nAnd I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nPhonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\nI need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nThey call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\nAiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\nI rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\nAiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of L's\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\nY'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\nI tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\nIt started from hunger, till it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top\nWhere the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\nY'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\nI'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\nNiggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\nAll you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\nPlay like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\nStyles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\nY'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\nYou want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX\n  album: DMX\n  duration_ms: 300278\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n  38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\n  And I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Phonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\n  I need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  They call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\n  Aiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\n  I rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\n  Aiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of L's\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\n  Y'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\n  It started from hunger, till it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top\n  Where the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\n  I'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\n  Niggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\n  All you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\n  Play like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\n  Styles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\n  Y'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n  'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\n  You want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon\n"},{"id":7750578,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"DMX Essentials","duration":300.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\nAnd I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nPhonin' your women, drunk off Corona's and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\nI need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nThey call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\nAiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\nI rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\nAiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of L's\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\nY'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\nI tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nI'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\nIt started from hunger, till it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the Reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top\nWhere the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\nY'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\nI'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\nNiggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\nAll you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\nPlay like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\nStyles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\nY'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\nYou want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.03] Jay\n[00:02.82] Fuck that\n[00:04.23] This is it, right here, baby\n[00:06.21] You know what it is\n[00:09.84] Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag' truck\n[00:14.48] Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n[00:17.10] Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n[00:20.18] .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n[00:22.58] And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n[00:25.25] 'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n[00:28.04] Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n[00:30.69] And you know I'm still writing the mean, lighting the green\n[00:33.54] I need the buggy, even though I look right in the beam\n[00:36.41] Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n[00:39.09] Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n[00:41.85] We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n[00:44.92] 'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n[00:47.62] Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n[00:50.14] Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n[00:53.28] I got a lot of horsepower, so I'm able to skip\n[00:55.94] Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n[00:58.78] You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh), a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n[01:01.84] And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n[01:04.64] Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n[01:07.99] And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck (uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n[01:09.99] Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n[01:13.05] New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n[01:15.84] Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n[01:18.31] And that's warning, if you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n[01:21.43] Now, I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n[01:24.06] I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n[01:26.85] I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n[01:29.55] It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n[01:32.40] Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (ha)\n[01:35.36] I rock a waist-length mink, durag under my fitted (style on these niggas)\n[01:38.00] And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (huh?)\n[01:40.89] That's Sheek in the dress-up club, 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n[01:43.76] And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n[01:46.58] I put 30 in your head, all in the same hole\n[01:49.47] 'Cause we got the same goal and you try and tamper with mine?\n[01:52.02] Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n[01:54.92] Fuck with me, you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n[01:57.77] Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke\n[02:00.66] 'Ju crazy?\n[02:03.14] Ayo, catch me with a.38, box of shells\n[02:06.06] In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n[02:09.01] Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n[02:11.86] Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n[02:14.49] I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n[02:17.36] I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G\n[02:20.05] Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n[02:22.94] 'Cause I like to play chess, and I swing the revolver\n[02:25.65] If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n[02:28.60] I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n[02:31.18] You hold your .9 if you holding a brick, common sense\n[02:34.14] Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n[02:36.99] L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n[02:40.03] Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n[02:42.58] Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n[02:45.41] I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n[02:50.46] Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters\n[02:54.05] Wake up and spit summers, ghetto nigga\n[02:56.56] Putting up Will Smith numbers (ugh)\n[02:58.22] Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n[03:01.25] Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n[03:04.13] It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n[03:06.22] Now, bitches notice the chains, now that I hit my number\n[03:09.44] The chickens I twisted (ugh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n[03:12.40] The beeper done changed, your dead, bitch\n[03:14.50] The reaper done came, I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n[03:17.71] 'Cause trust me, y'all could still feel the heat in the rain\n[03:20.42] I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n[03:23.53] Niggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking\n[03:26.39] Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n[03:29.48] I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n[03:31.77] Tell 'em jump through the top (uh-huh)\n[03:33.35] Where the sunroof used to be\n[03:35.20] I could see y'all not used to me\n[03:37.33] Nigga, flows like none other (ugh)\n[03:39.14] I'm the meanest, toughest, Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n[03:42.96] You the type to bust a lot of shots and none touch you (fuck)\n[03:45.59] I'm the type that get excited when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (ugh)\n[03:50.48] Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other (uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n[03:54.50] (Grrrr)\n[03:55.99] I'm headed nowhere fast\n[03:57.76] Running in place (ugh), gun in my waist\n[03:59.64] Niggas wanted a taste but wouldn't come to my face (ugh)\n[04:02.39] So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n[04:05.09] So now what I do? Start naming names again (what?)\n[04:08.13] All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (ugh)\n[04:11.20] Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n[04:13.96] We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n[04:16.89] Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (a'ight?)\n[04:19.77] Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n[04:21.39] It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n[04:23.24] That'll get you shot in your mouth\n[04:24.80] (Argh, argh), got my dogs covered (ugh)\n[04:27.41] Plus, it's all gravy, like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n[04:30.19] It's dark and I love it (ugh)\n[04:31.61] Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n[04:33.43] Want it with the dog or the gun?\n[04:35.30] Let him choose (come on)\n[05:00.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX\n  album: DMX Essentials\n  duration_ms: 300000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Jay\n  start_ms: 1030\n  end_ms: 2820\n- text: Fuck that\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 4230\n- text: This is it, right here, baby\n  start_ms: 4230\n  end_ms: 6210\n- text: You know what it is\n  start_ms: 6210\n  end_ms: 9840\n- text: Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag' truck\n  start_ms: 9840\n  end_ms: 14480\n- text: Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  start_ms: 14480\n  end_ms: 17100\n- text: Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  start_ms: 17100\n  end_ms: 20180\n- text: .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  start_ms: 20180\n  end_ms: 22580\n- text: And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  start_ms: 22580\n  end_ms: 25250\n- text: '''Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist'\n  start_ms: 25250\n  end_ms: 28040\n- text: Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  start_ms: 28040\n  end_ms: 30690\n- text: And you know I'm still writing the mean, lighting the green\n  start_ms: 30690\n  end_ms: 33540\n- text: I need the buggy, even though I look right in the beam\n  start_ms: 33540\n  end_ms: 36410\n- text: Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  start_ms: 36410\n  end_ms: 39090\n- text: Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  start_ms: 39090\n  end_ms: 41850\n- text: We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  start_ms: 41850\n  end_ms: 44920\n- text: '''Cause them rednecks up in the mountains''ll try to slay you'\n  start_ms: 44920\n  end_ms: 47620\n- text: Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  start_ms: 47620\n  end_ms: 50140\n- text: Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  start_ms: 50140\n  end_ms: 53280\n- text: I got a lot of horsepower, so I'm able to skip\n  start_ms: 53280\n  end_ms: 55940\n- text: Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  start_ms: 55940\n  end_ms: 58780\n- text: You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh), a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  start_ms: 58780\n  end_ms: 61840\n- text: And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  start_ms: 61840\n  end_ms: 64640\n- text: Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  start_ms: 64640\n  end_ms: 67990\n- text: And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck (uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n  start_ms: 67990\n  end_ms: 69990\n- text: Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  start_ms: 69990\n  end_ms: 73050\n- text: New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  start_ms: 73050\n  end_ms: 75840\n- text: Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  start_ms: 75840\n  end_ms: 78310\n- text: And that's warning, if you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  start_ms: 78310\n  end_ms: 81430\n- text: Now, I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  start_ms: 81430\n  end_ms: 84060\n- text: I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  start_ms: 84060\n  end_ms: 86850\n- text: I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  start_ms: 86850\n  end_ms: 89550\n- text: It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  start_ms: 89550\n  end_ms: 92400\n- text: Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (ha)\n  start_ms: 92400\n  end_ms: 95360\n- text: I rock a waist-length mink, durag under my fitted (style on these niggas)\n  start_ms: 95360\n  end_ms: 98000\n- text: And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (huh?)\n  start_ms: 98000\n  end_ms: 100890\n- text: That's Sheek in the dress-up club, 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  start_ms: 100890\n  end_ms: 103760\n- text: And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  start_ms: 103760\n  end_ms: 106580\n- text: I put 30 in your head, all in the same hole\n  start_ms: 106580\n  end_ms: 109470\n- text: '''Cause we got the same goal and you try and tamper with mine?'\n  start_ms: 109470\n  end_ms: 112020\n- text: Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  start_ms: 112020\n  end_ms: 114920\n- text: Fuck with me, you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  start_ms: 114920\n  end_ms: 117770\n- text: Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke\n  start_ms: 117770\n  end_ms: 120660\n- text: '''Ju crazy?'\n  start_ms: 120660\n  end_ms: 123140\n- text: Ayo, catch me with a.38, box of shells\n  start_ms: 123140\n  end_ms: 126060\n- text: In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  start_ms: 126060\n  end_ms: 129010\n- text: Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  start_ms: 129010\n  end_ms: 131860\n- text: Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  start_ms: 131860\n  end_ms: 134490\n- text: I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  start_ms: 134490\n  end_ms: 137360\n- text: I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G\n  start_ms: 137360\n  end_ms: 140050\n- text: Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  start_ms: 140050\n  end_ms: 142940\n- text: '''Cause I like to play chess, and I swing the revolver'\n  start_ms: 142940\n  end_ms: 145650\n- text: If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  start_ms: 145650\n  end_ms: 148600\n- text: I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  start_ms: 148600\n  end_ms: 151180\n- text: You hold your .9 if you holding a brick, common sense\n  start_ms: 151180\n  end_ms: 154140\n- text: Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  start_ms: 154140\n  end_ms: 156990\n- text: L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  start_ms: 156990\n  end_ms: 160030\n- text: Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  start_ms: 160030\n  end_ms: 162580\n- text: Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  start_ms: 162580\n  end_ms: 165410\n- text: I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n  start_ms: 165410\n  end_ms: 170460\n- text: Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters\n  start_ms: 170460\n  end_ms: 174050\n- text: Wake up and spit summers, ghetto nigga\n  start_ms: 174050\n  end_ms: 176560\n- text: Putting up Will Smith numbers (ugh)\n  start_ms: 176560\n  end_ms: 178220\n- text: Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  start_ms: 178220\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184130\n- text: It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  start_ms: 184130\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: Now, bitches notice the chains, now that I hit my number\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 189440\n- text: The chickens I twisted (ugh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  start_ms: 189440\n  end_ms: 192400\n- text: The beeper done changed, your dead, bitch\n  start_ms: 192400\n  end_ms: 194500\n- text: The reaper done came, I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  start_ms: 194500\n  end_ms: 197710\n- text: '''Cause trust me, y''all could still feel the heat in the rain'\n  start_ms: 197710\n  end_ms: 200420\n- text: I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  start_ms: 200420\n  end_ms: 203530\n- text: Niggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking\n  start_ms: 203530\n  end_ms: 206390\n- text: Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  start_ms: 206390\n  end_ms: 209480\n- text: I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  start_ms: 209480\n  end_ms: 211770\n- text: Tell 'em jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 211770\n  end_ms: 213350\n- text: Where the sunroof used to be\n  start_ms: 213350\n  end_ms: 215200\n- text: I could see y'all not used to me\n  start_ms: 215200\n  end_ms: 217330\n- text: Nigga, flows like none other (ugh)\n  start_ms: 217330\n  end_ms: 219140\n- text: I'm the meanest, toughest, Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n  start_ms: 219140\n  end_ms: 222960\n- text: You the type to bust a lot of shots and none touch you (fuck)\n  start_ms: 222960\n  end_ms: 225590\n- text: I'm the type that get excited when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (ugh)\n  start_ms: 225590\n  end_ms: 230480\n- text: Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other (uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n  start_ms: 230480\n  end_ms: 234500\n- text: (Grrrr)\n  start_ms: 234500\n  end_ms: 235990\n- text: I'm headed nowhere fast\n  start_ms: 235990\n  end_ms: 237760\n- text: Running in place (ugh), gun in my waist\n  start_ms: 237760\n  end_ms: 239640\n- text: Niggas wanted a taste but wouldn't come to my face (ugh)\n  start_ms: 239640\n  end_ms: 242390\n- text: So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  start_ms: 242390\n  end_ms: 245090\n- text: So now what I do? Start naming names again (what?)\n  start_ms: 245090\n  end_ms: 248130\n- text: All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (ugh)\n  start_ms: 248130\n  end_ms: 251200\n- text: Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  start_ms: 251200\n  end_ms: 253960\n- text: We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  start_ms: 253960\n  end_ms: 256890\n- text: Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (a'ight?)\n  start_ms: 256890\n  end_ms: 259770\n- text: Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  start_ms: 259770\n  end_ms: 261390\n- text: It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  start_ms: 261390\n  end_ms: 263240\n- text: That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  start_ms: 263240\n  end_ms: 264800\n- text: (Argh, argh), got my dogs covered (ugh)\n  start_ms: 264800\n  end_ms: 267410\n- text: Plus, it's all gravy, like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  start_ms: 267410\n  end_ms: 270190\n- text: It's dark and I love it (ugh)\n  start_ms: 270190\n  end_ms: 271610\n- text: Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  start_ms: 271610\n  end_ms: 273430\n- text: Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  start_ms: 273430\n  end_ms: 275300\n- text: Let him choose (come on)\n  start_ms: 275300\n  end_ms: 300230\nplain: |-\n  Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n  38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\n  And I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Phonin' your women, drunk off Corona's and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\n  I need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  They call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\n  Aiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\n  I rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\n  Aiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of L's\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\n  Y'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\n  It started from hunger, till it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the Reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top\n  Where the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\n  I'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\n  Niggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\n  All you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\n  Play like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\n  Styles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\n  Y'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n  'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\n  You want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon\n"},{"id":18798212,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"The Best Of DMX","duration":295.8989056,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\nAnd I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nPhonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\nI need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nThey call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\nAiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\nI rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\nAiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of L's\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\nY'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\nI tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\nIt started from hunger, till it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top\nWhere the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\nY'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\nI'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\nNiggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\nAll you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\nPlay like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\nStyles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\nY'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\nYou want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX\n  album: The Best Of DMX\n  duration_ms: 295899\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n  38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\n  And I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Phonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\n  I need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  They call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\n  Aiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\n  I rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\n  Aiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of L's\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\n  Y'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\n  It started from hunger, till it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top\n  Where the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\n  I'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\n  Niggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\n  All you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\n  Play like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\n  Styles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\n  Y'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n  'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\n  You want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon\n"},{"id":20482985,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"The Best Of DMX","duration":300.199175,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\nAnd I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nPhonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\nI need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nThey call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\nAiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\nI rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\nAiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of L's\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\nY'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\nI tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\nIt started from hunger, till it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top\nWhere the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\nY'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\nI'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\nNiggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\nAll you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\nPlay like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\nStyles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\nY'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\nYou want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX\n  album: The Best Of DMX\n  duration_ms: 300199\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n  38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\n  And I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Phonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\n  I need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  They call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\n  Aiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\n  I rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\n  Aiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of L's\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\n  Y'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\n  It started from hunger, till it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top\n  Where the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\n  I'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\n  Niggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\n  All you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\n  Play like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\n  Styles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\n  Y'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n  'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\n  You want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon\n"},{"id":34160114,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"The Best of DMX  (Compilation)","duration":296.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay\nFuck that\nThis is it right here, baby\nYou know what it is\nYo, I used to have bad luck\nNow you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\nAnd I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nBoning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\nI need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nCall me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\nYo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\nI rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\nAyo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of Ls\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\nY'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\nL-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\nI tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\nMotherfucker\nYeah, yeah\nI'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\nIt started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\nI suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\nWhere the sun roof used to be\nI could see y'all not used to me\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\nY'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\nGrr\nI'm headed nowhere fast\nRun in the place (uh), gat in my waist\nNiggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\nAll you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\nPlay like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\nStyles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\nY'all niggas best to stop playin'\nIt'll be the ones you've forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\nGot my dogs covered (uh)\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\nIt's dark and I love it (uh)\nGet him, boy, let him loose (come on)\nYou want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.67] Jay\n[00:02.43] Fuck that\n[00:03.81] This is it right here, baby\n[00:06.04] You know what it is\n[00:09.20] Yo, I used to have bad luck\n[00:11.86] Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n[00:13.83] Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n[00:16.51] Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n[00:19.37] 38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n[00:22.01] And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n[00:24.82] 'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n[00:27.55] Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n[00:30.49] And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n[00:33.46] I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n[00:36.13] Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n[00:38.91] Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n[00:41.77] We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n[00:44.87] 'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n[00:47.47] Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n[00:49.99] Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n[00:52.91] I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n[00:55.56] Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n[00:58.48] You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n[01:01.34] And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n[01:03.94] Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n[01:07.56] And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n[01:09.74] Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n[01:12.36] New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n[01:15.48] Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n[01:18.11] And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n[01:20.89] Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n[01:23.66] I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n[01:26.54] I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n[01:29.43] It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n[01:32.17] Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n[01:35.07] I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n[01:37.81] And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n[01:40.65] That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n[01:43.41] And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n[01:46.06] I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n[01:48.86] 'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\n[01:52.03] Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n[01:54.53] Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n[01:57.46] Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n[02:02.55] Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n[02:05.69] In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n[02:08.41] Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n[02:11.33] Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n[02:13.99] I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n[02:16.79] I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n[02:19.59] Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n[02:22.48] 'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n[02:25.25] If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n[02:28.09] I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n[02:30.72] You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n[02:33.07] Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n[02:36.67] L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n[02:39.42] Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n[02:42.12] Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n[02:44.86] I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n[02:47.71] Motherfucker\n[02:49.85] Yeah, yeah\n[02:51.17] I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n[02:54.86] Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n[02:57.74] Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n[03:00.61] Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n[03:03.23] It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n[03:05.95] Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n[03:08.67] The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n[03:11.69] The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n[03:15.24] I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n[03:17.24] 'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n[03:20.18] I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n[03:23.06] Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n[03:25.64] Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n[03:28.87] I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n[03:31.15] Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n[03:32.92] Where the sun roof used to be\n[03:34.58] I could see y'all not used to me\n[03:36.53] Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n[03:39.69] Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n[03:42.08] You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n[03:45.11] I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n[03:49.65] Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n[03:54.05] Grr\n[03:55.58] I'm headed nowhere fast\n[03:57.00] Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n[03:59.03] Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n[04:01.75] So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n[04:04.50] So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n[04:07.75] All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n[04:10.53] Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n[04:13.35] We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n[04:16.42] Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n[04:18.99] Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n[04:21.22] It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n[04:22.98] That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n[04:25.65] Got my dogs covered (uh)\n[04:26.96] Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n[04:29.49] It's dark and I love it (uh)\n[04:30.96] Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n[04:33.13] You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX\n  album: The Best of DMX  (Compilation)\n  duration_ms: 296000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Jay\n  start_ms: 670\n  end_ms: 2430\n- text: Fuck that\n  start_ms: 2430\n  end_ms: 3810\n- text: This is it right here, baby\n  start_ms: 3810\n  end_ms: 6040\n- text: You know what it is\n  start_ms: 6040\n  end_ms: 9200\n- text: Yo, I used to have bad luck\n  start_ms: 9200\n  end_ms: 11860\n- text: Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  start_ms: 11860\n  end_ms: 13830\n- text: Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  start_ms: 13830\n  end_ms: 16510\n- text: Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n  start_ms: 16510\n  end_ms: 19370\n- text: 38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  start_ms: 19370\n  end_ms: 22010\n- text: And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  start_ms: 22010\n  end_ms: 24820\n- text: '''Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist'\n  start_ms: 24820\n  end_ms: 27550\n- text: Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  start_ms: 27550\n  end_ms: 30490\n- text: And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n  start_ms: 30490\n  end_ms: 33460\n- text: I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n  start_ms: 33460\n  end_ms: 36130\n- text: Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  start_ms: 36130\n  end_ms: 38910\n- text: Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  start_ms: 38910\n  end_ms: 41770\n- text: We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n  start_ms: 41770\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: '''Cause them rednecks up in the mountains''ll try to slay you'\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 47470\n- text: Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  start_ms: 47470\n  end_ms: 49990\n- text: Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  start_ms: 49990\n  end_ms: 52910\n- text: I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  start_ms: 52910\n  end_ms: 55560\n- text: Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  start_ms: 55560\n  end_ms: 58480\n- text: You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  start_ms: 58480\n  end_ms: 61340\n- text: And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  start_ms: 61340\n  end_ms: 63940\n- text: Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  start_ms: 63940\n  end_ms: 67560\n- text: And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  start_ms: 67560\n  end_ms: 69740\n- text: Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  start_ms: 69740\n  end_ms: 72360\n- text: New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  start_ms: 72360\n  end_ms: 75480\n- text: Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  start_ms: 75480\n  end_ms: 78110\n- text: And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  start_ms: 78110\n  end_ms: 80890\n- text: Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  start_ms: 80890\n  end_ms: 83660\n- text: I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  start_ms: 83660\n  end_ms: 86540\n- text: I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  start_ms: 86540\n  end_ms: 89430\n- text: It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  start_ms: 89430\n  end_ms: 92170\n- text: Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n  start_ms: 92170\n  end_ms: 95070\n- text: I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  start_ms: 95070\n  end_ms: 97810\n- text: And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  start_ms: 97810\n  end_ms: 100650\n- text: That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  start_ms: 100650\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 106060\n- text: I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  start_ms: 106060\n  end_ms: 108860\n- text: '''Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?'\n  start_ms: 108860\n  end_ms: 112030\n- text: Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  start_ms: 112030\n  end_ms: 114530\n- text: Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n  start_ms: 114530\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 122550\n- text: Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n  start_ms: 122550\n  end_ms: 125690\n- text: In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  start_ms: 125690\n  end_ms: 128410\n- text: Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  start_ms: 128410\n  end_ms: 131330\n- text: Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  start_ms: 131330\n  end_ms: 133990\n- text: I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  start_ms: 133990\n  end_ms: 136790\n- text: I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n  start_ms: 136790\n  end_ms: 139590\n- text: Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  start_ms: 139590\n  end_ms: 142480\n- text: '''Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver'\n  start_ms: 142480\n  end_ms: 145250\n- text: If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  start_ms: 145250\n  end_ms: 148090\n- text: I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  start_ms: 148090\n  end_ms: 150720\n- text: You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  start_ms: 150720\n  end_ms: 153070\n- text: Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  start_ms: 153070\n  end_ms: 156670\n- text: L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  start_ms: 156670\n  end_ms: 159420\n- text: Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  start_ms: 159420\n  end_ms: 162120\n- text: Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n  start_ms: 162120\n  end_ms: 164860\n- text: I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n  start_ms: 164860\n  end_ms: 167710\n- text: Motherfucker\n  start_ms: 167710\n  end_ms: 169850\n- text: Yeah, yeah\n  start_ms: 169850\n  end_ms: 171170\n- text: I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  start_ms: 171170\n  end_ms: 174860\n- text: Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  start_ms: 174860\n  end_ms: 177740\n- text: Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  start_ms: 177740\n  end_ms: 180610\n- text: Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n  start_ms: 180610\n  end_ms: 183230\n- text: It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n  start_ms: 183230\n  end_ms: 185950\n- text: Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  start_ms: 185950\n  end_ms: 188670\n- text: The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  start_ms: 188670\n  end_ms: 191690\n- text: The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n  start_ms: 191690\n  end_ms: 195240\n- text: I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n  start_ms: 195240\n  end_ms: 197240\n- text: '''Cause trust me, y''all can still feel the heat in the rain'\n  start_ms: 197240\n  end_ms: 200180\n- text: I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  start_ms: 200180\n  end_ms: 203060\n- text: Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n  start_ms: 203060\n  end_ms: 205640\n- text: Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  start_ms: 205640\n  end_ms: 208870\n- text: I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  start_ms: 208870\n  end_ms: 211150\n- text: Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 211150\n  end_ms: 212920\n- text: Where the sun roof used to be\n  start_ms: 212920\n  end_ms: 214580\n- text: I could see y'all not used to me\n  start_ms: 214580\n  end_ms: 216530\n- text: Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  start_ms: 216530\n  end_ms: 219690\n- text: Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n  start_ms: 219690\n  end_ms: 222080\n- text: You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  start_ms: 222080\n  end_ms: 225110\n- text: I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 225110\n  end_ms: 229650\n- text: Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  start_ms: 229650\n  end_ms: 234050\n- text: Grr\n  start_ms: 234050\n  end_ms: 235580\n- text: I'm headed nowhere fast\n  start_ms: 235580\n  end_ms: 237000\n- text: Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n  start_ms: 237000\n  end_ms: 239030\n- text: Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n  start_ms: 239030\n  end_ms: 241750\n- text: So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  start_ms: 241750\n  end_ms: 244500\n- text: So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n  start_ms: 244500\n  end_ms: 247750\n- text: All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n  start_ms: 247750\n  end_ms: 250530\n- text: Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n  start_ms: 250530\n  end_ms: 253350\n- text: We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  start_ms: 253350\n  end_ms: 256420\n- text: Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n  start_ms: 256420\n  end_ms: 258990\n- text: Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  start_ms: 258990\n  end_ms: 261220\n- text: It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n  start_ms: 261220\n  end_ms: 262980\n- text: That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n  start_ms: 262980\n  end_ms: 265650\n- text: Got my dogs covered (uh)\n  start_ms: 265650\n  end_ms: 266960\n- text: Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  start_ms: 266960\n  end_ms: 269490\n- text: It's dark and I love it (uh)\n  start_ms: 269490\n  end_ms: 270960\n- text: Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  start_ms: 270960\n  end_ms: 273130\n- text: You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)\n  start_ms: 273130\nplain: |-\n  Jay\n  Fuck that\n  This is it right here, baby\n  You know what it is\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck\n  Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n  38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n  I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n  I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n  Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n  Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n  Motherfucker\n  Yeah, yeah\n  I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n  It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n  I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  Where the sun roof used to be\n  I could see y'all not used to me\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  Grr\n  I'm headed nowhere fast\n  Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n  Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n  All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n  Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n  Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n  Got my dogs covered (uh)\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  It's dark and I love it (uh)\n  Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)\n"},{"id":36251043,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX, Jay-Z, L.O.X.","albumName":"DMX Essentials","duration":300.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay\nFuck that\nThis is it, right here, baby\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you\nMight see me in a Jag' truck\nMasked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R tee with the matching bandana\n.38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\nAnd I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with\nYour whole advance on my wrist\nBoning your women\n\nDrunk off Coronas and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writing the mean\nLighting the green I need the buggy\nEven though I look right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n'Cause them rednecks up in the\n\nMountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\nTell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me\nYou probably don't want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\nA hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n(Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\nYo, when my gun bust\nSend niggas to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\nI put fear in y'all heads\nSheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warning\n\nIf you all alive in the morning, that's fine\nNow, I suggest you hit the block and\nGet what's rightfully mine\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggas my pop's age\nThat lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheek\nGo fuck with a ho (Ha)\nI rock a waist-length mink\n\nDurag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\nAnd I don't even want waves\nTimbs be halfway new (Huh?)\nThat's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\nI don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life\n\nI swear to the Bible, let it be told\nI put thirty in your head\nAll in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal\nAnd you try and tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave\nYou with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore\nI extorted your coke\n'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n\nAyo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\nIn a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of Ls\nBlow, stay on the low\nGet a Heine' and swig\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\nThe first was B.I.G\n\nY'all niggas is sonned out\nLet me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\nIf I don't like a nigga\nI don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\nYou hold your nine if you\nHolding a brick, common sense\nFed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\nI tell all my niggas ride\nYou won't leave with a dime\nMotherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah, I'm a monster\nI sleep whole winters\nWake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, putting up\nWill Smith numbers (Ugh)\nSurrounded by Sixes and Hummers\nBitches among us\n\nTrying not to let this bullshit become us\nIt started from hunger 'til it all went insane\nNow, bitches notice the chains\nNow that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted (Ugh)\nSee the digits unlisted (Yeah)\nThe beeper done changed\nYour dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all could\nStill feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets\nKeep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggas is hotheads and\nThe bullets is heat-seeking\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\nWhere the sunroof used to be\nI could see y'all not used to me\nNigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\nI'm the meanest, toughest\nDon Dada to gun-butt ya\n\nYou the type to bust a lot of shots\nAnd none touch you (Fuck)\nI'm the type that get excited\nWhen the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\nY'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n(Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n(Grrrr)\nI'm headed nowhere fast\nRunning in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\nNiggas wanted a taste\nBut wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\nSo what that mean?\nYou cats is playin' games again\n\nSo now what I do?\nStart naming names again (What?)\nAll you motherfuckers know that\nI speak from the heart (Ugh)\nPlay like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to\nMake it fair, get some more niggas\n\nStyles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\nLike four niggas (Aight?)\nY'all niggas best to stop playin'\nIt'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth\n(Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n\nPlus it's all gravy, like chicken\nWhen it's smothered (What?)\nIt's dark and I love it (Ugh)\nGet him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\nWant it with the dog or the gun?\nLet him choose (Come on)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.22] Jay\n[00:03.52] Fuck that\n[00:05.08] This is it, right here, baby\n[00:07.20] You know what it is\n[00:10.81] Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n[00:12.94] Might see me in a Jag' truck\n[00:14.67] Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n[00:18.17] Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n[00:20.60] .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n[00:22.83] And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n[00:25.49] 'Cause I walk around with\n[00:27.09] Your whole advance on my wrist\n[00:28.56] Boning your women\n[00:29.84] Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n[00:30.94] And you know I'm still writing the mean\n[00:33.05] Lighting the green I need the buggy\n[00:34.78] Even though I look right in the beam\n[00:36.45] Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n[00:38.29] Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n[00:42.09] We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n[00:45.14] 'Cause them rednecks up in the\n[00:47.56] Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n[00:49.10] Tell you what I want you to know\n[00:51.17] Fuck what you ask me\n[00:52.58] You probably don't want me to blow\n[00:54.52] I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n[00:56.18] Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n[00:58.21] You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n[01:01.05] A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n[01:02.55] And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n[01:06.36] Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n[01:08.67] And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n[01:10.08] (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n[01:11.14] Yo, when my gun bust\n[01:12.78] Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n[01:14.07] New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n[01:15.08] I put fear in y'all heads\n[01:16.34] Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n[01:18.33] And that's warning\n[01:19.59] If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n[01:21.66] Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n[01:23.33] Get what's rightfully mine\n[01:25.57] I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n[01:26.83] I got niggas my pop's age\n[01:28.76] That lifestyle ain't changed\n[01:31.80] It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n[01:33.18] Make car money, check with Sheek\n[01:34.44] Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n[01:35.66] I rock a waist-length mink\n[01:37.26] Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n[01:39.12] And I don't even want waves\n[01:40.30] Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n[01:41.23] That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n[01:42.72] I don't fuck with shoes\n[01:43.78] And for my nigga's life\n[01:45.42] I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n[01:46.53] I put thirty in your head\n[01:48.14] All in the same hole\n[01:49.43] 'Cause we got the same goal\n[01:50.99] And you try and tamper with mine?\n[01:52.50] Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n[01:53.99] You with some shit in your spine\n[01:54.97] Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n[01:57.77] Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n[02:00.73] I extorted your coke\n[02:01.74] 'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n[02:02.54] Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n[02:04.03] In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n[02:09.28] Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n[02:11.89] Blow, stay on the low\n[02:14.51] Get a Heine' and swig\n[02:15.44] I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n[02:17.61] I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n[02:21.18] The first was B.I.G\n[02:21.77] Y'all niggas is sonned out\n[02:22.68] Let me speak to your father\n[02:23.78] 'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n[02:25.43] If I don't like a nigga\n[02:27.80] I don't even be bothered\n[02:30.24] I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n[02:31.31] You hold your nine if you\n[02:32.63] Holding a brick, common sense\n[02:33.64] Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n[02:34.95] L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n[02:38.54] Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n[02:40.81] Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n[02:43.47] I tell all my niggas ride\n[02:45.58] You won't leave with a dime\n[02:48.57] Motherfucker\n[02:57.69] Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n[02:58.48] I sleep whole winters\n[02:58.76] Wake up and spit summers\n[02:59.39] Ghetto nigga, putting up\n[03:00.44] Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n[03:02.33] Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n[03:02.72] Bitches among us\n[03:03.28] Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n[03:04.17] It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n[03:04.84] Now, bitches notice the chains\n[03:08.57] Now that I hit my number\n[03:10.46] The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n[03:11.65] See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n[03:14.00] The beeper done changed\n[03:15.26] Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n[03:16.92] I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n[03:18.17] 'Cause trust me, y'all could\n[03:20.03] Still feel the heat in the rain\n[03:22.19] I keep creepin', streets\n[03:23.21] Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n[03:24.05] Niggas is hotheads and\n[03:25.23] The bullets is heat-seeking\n[03:26.61] Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n[03:29.47] I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n[03:31.46] Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n[03:33.55] Where the sunroof used to be\n[03:35.22] I could see y'all not used to me\n[03:37.48] Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n[03:38.92] I'm the meanest, toughest\n[03:40.99] Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n[03:42.94] You the type to bust a lot of shots\n[03:44.82] And none touch you (Fuck)\n[03:47.07] I'm the type that get excited\n[03:48.20] When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n[03:49.91] Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n[03:52.81] (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n[03:54.52] (Grrrr)\n[03:56.62] I'm headed nowhere fast\n[03:58.20] Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n[03:59.69] Niggas wanted a taste\n[04:01.87] But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n[04:03.06] So what that mean?\n[04:04.14] You cats is playin' games again\n[04:05.12] So now what I do?\n[04:06.57] Start naming names again (What?)\n[04:08.42] All you motherfuckers know that\n[04:11.02] I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n[04:12.85] Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n[04:14.14] We can take it there, but to\n[04:15.51] Make it fair, get some more niggas\n[04:16.85] Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n[04:19.68] Like four niggas (Aight?)\n[04:21.43] Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n[04:22.47] It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n[04:23.75] That'll get you shot in your mouth\n[04:25.40] (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n[04:27.43] Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n[04:30.46] When it's smothered (What?)\n[04:31.57] It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n[04:33.25] Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n[04:34.27] Want it with the dog or the gun?\n[04:35.41] Let him choose (Come on)\n[04:37.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX, Jay-Z, L.O.X.\n  album: DMX Essentials\n  duration_ms: 300000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Jay\n  start_ms: 2220\n  end_ms: 3520\n- text: Fuck that\n  start_ms: 3520\n  end_ms: 5080\n- text: This is it, right here, baby\n  start_ms: 5080\n  end_ms: 7200\n- text: You know what it is\n  start_ms: 7200\n  end_ms: 10810\n- text: Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n  start_ms: 10810\n  end_ms: 12940\n- text: Might see me in a Jag' truck\n  start_ms: 12940\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 18170\n- text: Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  start_ms: 18170\n  end_ms: 20600\n- text: .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  start_ms: 20600\n  end_ms: 22830\n- text: And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  start_ms: 22830\n  end_ms: 25490\n- text: '''Cause I walk around with'\n  start_ms: 25490\n  end_ms: 27090\n- text: Your whole advance on my wrist\n  start_ms: 27090\n  end_ms: 28560\n- text: Boning your women\n  start_ms: 28560\n  end_ms: 29840\n- text: Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  start_ms: 29840\n  end_ms: 30940\n- text: And you know I'm still writing the mean\n  start_ms: 30940\n  end_ms: 33050\n- text: Lighting the green I need the buggy\n  start_ms: 33050\n  end_ms: 34780\n- text: Even though I look right in the beam\n  start_ms: 34780\n  end_ms: 36450\n- text: Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  start_ms: 36450\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 42090\n- text: We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  start_ms: 42090\n  end_ms: 45140\n- text: '''Cause them rednecks up in the'\n  start_ms: 45140\n  end_ms: 47560\n- text: Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n  start_ms: 47560\n  end_ms: 49100\n- text: Tell you what I want you to know\n  start_ms: 49100\n  end_ms: 51170\n- text: Fuck what you ask me\n  start_ms: 51170\n  end_ms: 52580\n- text: You probably don't want me to blow\n  start_ms: 52580\n  end_ms: 54520\n- text: I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  start_ms: 54520\n  end_ms: 56180\n- text: Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  start_ms: 56180\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61050\n- text: A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 61050\n  end_ms: 62550\n- text: And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  start_ms: 62550\n  end_ms: 66360\n- text: Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  start_ms: 66360\n  end_ms: 68670\n- text: And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  start_ms: 68670\n  end_ms: 70080\n- text: (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n  start_ms: 70080\n  end_ms: 71140\n- text: Yo, when my gun bust\n  start_ms: 71140\n  end_ms: 72780\n- text: Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  start_ms: 72780\n  end_ms: 74070\n- text: New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n  start_ms: 74070\n  end_ms: 75080\n- text: I put fear in y'all heads\n  start_ms: 75080\n  end_ms: 76340\n- text: Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  start_ms: 76340\n  end_ms: 78330\n- text: And that's warning\n  start_ms: 78330\n  end_ms: 79590\n- text: If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  start_ms: 79590\n  end_ms: 81660\n- text: Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n  start_ms: 81660\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Get what's rightfully mine\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 85570\n- text: I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  start_ms: 85570\n  end_ms: 86830\n- text: I got niggas my pop's age\n  start_ms: 86830\n  end_ms: 88760\n- text: That lifestyle ain't changed\n  start_ms: 88760\n  end_ms: 91800\n- text: It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  start_ms: 91800\n  end_ms: 93180\n- text: Make car money, check with Sheek\n  start_ms: 93180\n  end_ms: 94440\n- text: Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n  start_ms: 94440\n  end_ms: 95660\n- text: I rock a waist-length mink\n  start_ms: 95660\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99120\n- text: And I don't even want waves\n  start_ms: 99120\n  end_ms: 100300\n- text: Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n  start_ms: 100300\n  end_ms: 101230\n- text: That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n  start_ms: 101230\n  end_ms: 102720\n- text: I don't fuck with shoes\n  start_ms: 102720\n  end_ms: 103780\n- text: And for my nigga's life\n  start_ms: 103780\n  end_ms: 105420\n- text: I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  start_ms: 105420\n  end_ms: 106530\n- text: I put thirty in your head\n  start_ms: 106530\n  end_ms: 108140\n- text: All in the same hole\n  start_ms: 108140\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: '''Cause we got the same goal'\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 110990\n- text: And you try and tamper with mine?\n  start_ms: 110990\n  end_ms: 112500\n- text: Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n  start_ms: 112500\n  end_ms: 113990\n- text: You with some shit in your spine\n  start_ms: 113990\n  end_ms: 114970\n- text: Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n  start_ms: 114970\n  end_ms: 117770\n- text: Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n  start_ms: 117770\n  end_ms: 120730\n- text: I extorted your coke\n  start_ms: 120730\n  end_ms: 121740\n- text: '''Ju crazy? (Haha)'\n  start_ms: 121740\n  end_ms: 122540\n- text: Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n  start_ms: 122540\n  end_ms: 124030\n- text: In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  start_ms: 124030\n  end_ms: 129280\n- text: Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  start_ms: 129280\n  end_ms: 131890\n- text: Blow, stay on the low\n  start_ms: 131890\n  end_ms: 134510\n- text: Get a Heine' and swig\n  start_ms: 134510\n  end_ms: 135440\n- text: I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  start_ms: 135440\n  end_ms: 137610\n- text: I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n  start_ms: 137610\n  end_ms: 141180\n- text: The first was B.I.G\n  start_ms: 141180\n  end_ms: 141770\n- text: Y'all niggas is sonned out\n  start_ms: 141770\n  end_ms: 142680\n- text: Let me speak to your father\n  start_ms: 142680\n  end_ms: 143780\n- text: '''Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver'\n  start_ms: 143780\n  end_ms: 145430\n- text: If I don't like a nigga\n  start_ms: 145430\n  end_ms: 147800\n- text: I don't even be bothered\n  start_ms: 147800\n  end_ms: 150240\n- text: I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  start_ms: 150240\n  end_ms: 151310\n- text: You hold your nine if you\n  start_ms: 151310\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: Holding a brick, common sense\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 153640\n- text: Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  start_ms: 153640\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 158540\n- text: Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  start_ms: 158540\n  end_ms: 160810\n- text: Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  start_ms: 160810\n  end_ms: 163470\n- text: I tell all my niggas ride\n  start_ms: 163470\n  end_ms: 165580\n- text: You won't leave with a dime\n  start_ms: 165580\n  end_ms: 168570\n- text: Motherfucker\n  start_ms: 168570\n  end_ms: 177690\n- text: Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n  start_ms: 177690\n  end_ms: 178480\n- text: I sleep whole winters\n  start_ms: 178480\n  end_ms: 178760\n- text: Wake up and spit summers\n  start_ms: 178760\n  end_ms: 179390\n- text: Ghetto nigga, putting up\n  start_ms: 179390\n  end_ms: 180440\n- text: Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 180440\n  end_ms: 182330\n- text: Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n  start_ms: 182330\n  end_ms: 182720\n- text: Bitches among us\n  start_ms: 182720\n  end_ms: 183280\n- text: Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  start_ms: 183280\n  end_ms: 184170\n- text: It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  start_ms: 184170\n  end_ms: 184840\n- text: Now, bitches notice the chains\n  start_ms: 184840\n  end_ms: 188570\n- text: Now that I hit my number\n  start_ms: 188570\n  end_ms: 190460\n- text: The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 190460\n  end_ms: 191650\n- text: See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 191650\n  end_ms: 194000\n- text: The beeper done changed\n  start_ms: 194000\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 196920\n- text: I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  start_ms: 196920\n  end_ms: 198170\n- text: '''Cause trust me, y''all could'\n  start_ms: 198170\n  end_ms: 200030\n- text: Still feel the heat in the rain\n  start_ms: 200030\n  end_ms: 202190\n- text: I keep creepin', streets\n  start_ms: 202190\n  end_ms: 203210\n- text: Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  start_ms: 203210\n  end_ms: 204050\n- text: Niggas is hotheads and\n  start_ms: 204050\n  end_ms: 205230\n- text: The bullets is heat-seeking\n  start_ms: 205230\n  end_ms: 206610\n- text: Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  start_ms: 206610\n  end_ms: 209470\n- text: I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  start_ms: 209470\n  end_ms: 211460\n- text: Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 211460\n  end_ms: 213550\n- text: Where the sunroof used to be\n  start_ms: 213550\n  end_ms: 215220\n- text: I could see y'all not used to me\n  start_ms: 215220\n  end_ms: 217480\n- text: Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 217480\n  end_ms: 218920\n- text: I'm the meanest, toughest\n  start_ms: 218920\n  end_ms: 220990\n- text: Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n  start_ms: 220990\n  end_ms: 222940\n- text: You the type to bust a lot of shots\n  start_ms: 222940\n  end_ms: 224820\n- text: And none touch you (Fuck)\n  start_ms: 224820\n  end_ms: 227070\n- text: I'm the type that get excited\n  start_ms: 227070\n  end_ms: 228200\n- text: When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 228200\n  end_ms: 229910\n- text: Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  start_ms: 229910\n  end_ms: 232810\n- text: (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n  start_ms: 232810\n  end_ms: 234520\n- text: (Grrrr)\n  start_ms: 234520\n  end_ms: 236620\n- text: I'm headed nowhere fast\n  start_ms: 236620\n  end_ms: 238200\n- text: Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n  start_ms: 238200\n  end_ms: 239690\n- text: Niggas wanted a taste\n  start_ms: 239690\n  end_ms: 241870\n- text: But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 241870\n  end_ms: 243060\n- text: So what that mean?\n  start_ms: 243060\n  end_ms: 244140\n- text: You cats is playin' games again\n  start_ms: 244140\n  end_ms: 245120\n- text: So now what I do?\n  start_ms: 245120\n  end_ms: 246570\n- text: Start naming names again (What?)\n  start_ms: 246570\n  end_ms: 248420\n- text: All you motherfuckers know that\n  start_ms: 248420\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 252850\n- text: Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  start_ms: 252850\n  end_ms: 254140\n- text: We can take it there, but to\n  start_ms: 254140\n  end_ms: 255510\n- text: Make it fair, get some more niggas\n  start_ms: 255510\n  end_ms: 256850\n- text: Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n  start_ms: 256850\n  end_ms: 259680\n- text: Like four niggas (Aight?)\n  start_ms: 259680\n  end_ms: 261430\n- text: Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  start_ms: 261430\n  end_ms: 262470\n- text: It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  start_ms: 262470\n  end_ms: 263750\n- text: That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  start_ms: 263750\n  end_ms: 265400\n- text: (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 265400\n  end_ms: 267430\n- text: Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n  start_ms: 267430\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: When it's smothered (What?)\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 271570\n- text: It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 271570\n  end_ms: 273250\n- text: Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n  start_ms: 273250\n  end_ms: 274270\n- text: Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  start_ms: 274270\n  end_ms: 275410\n- text: Let him choose (Come on)\n  start_ms: 275410\n  end_ms: 277180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 277180\nplain: |-\n  Jay\n  Fuck that\n  This is it, right here, baby\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n  Might see me in a Jag' truck\n  Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with\n  Your whole advance on my wrist\n  Boning your women\n\n  Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writing the mean\n  Lighting the green I need the buggy\n  Even though I look right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the\n\n  Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n  Tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me\n  You probably don't want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n  A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\n  Yo, when my gun bust\n  Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n  I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warning\n\n  If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n  Get what's rightfully mine\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggas my pop's age\n  That lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheek\n  Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n  I rock a waist-length mink\n\n  Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n  And I don't even want waves\n  Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n  That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n  I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life\n\n  I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  I put thirty in your head\n  All in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal\n  And you try and tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n  You with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n  I extorted your coke\n  'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n\n  Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n  In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  Blow, stay on the low\n  Get a Heine' and swig\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n  The first was B.I.G\n\n  Y'all niggas is sonned out\n  Let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n  If I don't like a nigga\n  I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  You hold your nine if you\n  Holding a brick, common sense\n  Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggas ride\n  You won't leave with a dime\n  Motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n  I sleep whole winters\n  Wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, putting up\n  Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n  Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n  Bitches among us\n\n  Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  Now, bitches notice the chains\n  Now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n  See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n  The beeper done changed\n  Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all could\n  Still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets\n  Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggas is hotheads and\n  The bullets is heat-seeking\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n  Where the sunroof used to be\n  I could see y'all not used to me\n  Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n  I'm the meanest, toughest\n  Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n\n  You the type to bust a lot of shots\n  And none touch you (Fuck)\n  I'm the type that get excited\n  When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n  Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n  (Grrrr)\n  I'm headed nowhere fast\n  Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n  Niggas wanted a taste\n  But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n  So what that mean?\n  You cats is playin' games again\n\n  So now what I do?\n  Start naming names again (What?)\n  All you motherfuckers know that\n  I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n  Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to\n  Make it fair, get some more niggas\n\n  Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n  Like four niggas (Aight?)\n  Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n\n  Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n  When it's smothered (What?)\n  It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n  Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n  Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  Let him choose (Come on)\n"},{"id":32592130,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX feat. L.O.X.","albumName":"The Best of DMX","duration":295.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay\nFuck that\nThis is it, right here, baby\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag' truck\nMasked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R tee with the matching bandana\n.38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\nAnd I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nBoning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writing the mean, lighting the green\n\nI need the buggy, even though I look right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nCall me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower, so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh), a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck (uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\nYo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warning, if you all alive in the morning, that's fine\nNow, I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n\nMake car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (ha)\nI rock a waist-length mink, durag under my fitted (style on these niggas)\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (huh?)\nThat's Sheek in the dress-up club, 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\nI put 30 in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal and you try and tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me, you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke\n'Ju crazy?\n\nAyo, catch me with a.38, box of shells\nIn a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of Ls\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G\nY'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess, and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\nYou hold your .9 if you holding a brick, common sense\nFed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\nL-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\nI tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah, I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters\nWake up and spit summers, ghetto nigga\nPutting up Will Smith numbers (ugh)\nSurrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\nTrying not to let this bullshit become us\nIt started from hunger 'til it all went insane\nNow, bitches notice the chains, now that I hit my number\n\nThe chickens I twisted (ugh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\nThe beeper done changed, your dead, bitch\nThe reaper done came, I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all could still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\n\nTell 'em jump through the top (uh-huh)\nWhere the sunroof used to be\nI could see y'all not used to me\nNigga, flows like none other (ugh)\nI'm the meanest, toughest, Don Dada to gun-butt ya\nYou the type to bust a lot of shots and none touch you (fuck)\nI'm the type that get excited when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (ugh)\nY'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other (uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n(Grrrr)\nI'm headed nowhere fast\nRunning in place (ugh), gun in my waist\nNiggas wanted a taste but wouldn't come to my face (ugh)\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start naming names again (what?)\nAll you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (ugh)\nPlay like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\nStyles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (a'ight?)\n\nY'all niggas best to stop playin'\nIt'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth\n(Argh, argh), got my dogs covered (ugh)\nPlus, it's all gravy, like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\nIt's dark and I love it (ugh)\nGet him, boy, let him loose (come on)\nWant it with the dog or the gun?\nLet him choose (come on)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX feat. L.O.X.\n  album: The Best of DMX\n  duration_ms: 295000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Jay\n  Fuck that\n  This is it, right here, baby\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag' truck\n  Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writing the mean, lighting the green\n\n  I need the buggy, even though I look right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower, so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh), a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck (uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\n  Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warning, if you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  Now, I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n\n  Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (ha)\n  I rock a waist-length mink, durag under my fitted (style on these niggas)\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (huh?)\n  That's Sheek in the dress-up club, 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  I put 30 in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal and you try and tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me, you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke\n  'Ju crazy?\n\n  Ayo, catch me with a.38, box of shells\n  In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G\n  Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess, and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  You hold your .9 if you holding a brick, common sense\n  Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters\n  Wake up and spit summers, ghetto nigga\n  Putting up Will Smith numbers (ugh)\n  Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  Now, bitches notice the chains, now that I hit my number\n\n  The chickens I twisted (ugh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  The beeper done changed, your dead, bitch\n  The reaper done came, I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all could still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n\n  Tell 'em jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  Where the sunroof used to be\n  I could see y'all not used to me\n  Nigga, flows like none other (ugh)\n  I'm the meanest, toughest, Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n  You the type to bust a lot of shots and none touch you (fuck)\n  I'm the type that get excited when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (ugh)\n  Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other (uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n  (Grrrr)\n  I'm headed nowhere fast\n  Running in place (ugh), gun in my waist\n  Niggas wanted a taste but wouldn't come to my face (ugh)\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start naming names again (what?)\n  All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (ugh)\n  Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (a'ight?)\n\n  Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  (Argh, argh), got my dogs covered (ugh)\n  Plus, it's all gravy, like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  It's dark and I love it (ugh)\n  Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  Let him choose (come on)\n"},{"id":35847302,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX, JAŸ-Z, The LOX","albumName":"The Best Of DMX","duration":296.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay\nFuck that\nThis is it, right here, baby\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you\nMight see me in a Jag' truck\nMasked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R tee with the matching bandana\n.38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\nAnd I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with\nYour whole advance on my wrist\nBoning your women\n\nDrunk off Coronas and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writing the mean\nLighting the green I need the buggy\nEven though I look right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n'Cause them rednecks up in the\n\nMountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\nTell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me\nYou probably don't want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\nA hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n(Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\nYo, when my gun bust\nSend niggas to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\nI put fear in y'all heads\nSheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warning\n\nIf you all alive in the morning, that's fine\nNow, I suggest you hit the block and\nGet what's rightfully mine\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggas my pop's age\nThat lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheek\nGo fuck with a ho (Ha)\nI rock a waist-length mink\n\nDurag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\nAnd I don't even want waves\nTimbs be halfway new (Huh?)\nThat's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\nI don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life\n\nI swear to the Bible, let it be told\nI put thirty in your head\nAll in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal\nAnd you try and tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave\nYou with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore\nI extorted your coke\n'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n\nAyo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\nIn a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of Ls\nBlow, stay on the low\nGet a Heine' and swig\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\nThe first was B.I.G\n\nY'all niggas is sonned out\nLet me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\nIf I don't like a nigga\nI don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\nYou hold your nine if you\nHolding a brick, common sense\nFed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\nI tell all my niggas ride\nYou won't leave with a dime\nMotherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah, I'm a monster\nI sleep whole winters\nWake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, putting up\nWill Smith numbers (Ugh)\nSurrounded by Sixes and Hummers\nBitches among us\n\nTrying not to let this bullshit become us\nIt started from hunger 'til it all went insane\nNow, bitches notice the chains\nNow that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted (Ugh)\nSee the digits unlisted (Yeah)\nThe beeper done changed\nYour dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all could\nStill feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets\nKeep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggas is hotheads and\nThe bullets is heat-seeking\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\nWhere the sunroof used to be\nI could see y'all not used to me\nNigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\nI'm the meanest, toughest\nDon Dada to gun-butt ya\n\nYou the type to bust a lot of shots\nAnd none touch you (Fuck)\nI'm the type that get excited\nWhen the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\nY'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n(Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n(Grrrr)\nI'm headed nowhere fast\nRunning in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\nNiggas wanted a taste\nBut wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\nSo what that mean?\nYou cats is playin' games again\n\nSo now what I do?\nStart naming names again (What?)\nAll you motherfuckers know that\nI speak from the heart (Ugh)\nPlay like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to\nMake it fair, get some more niggas\n\nStyles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\nLike four niggas (Aight?)\nY'all niggas best to stop playin'\nIt'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth\n(Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n\nPlus it's all gravy, like chicken\nWhen it's smothered (What?)\nIt's dark and I love it (Ugh)\nGet him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\nWant it with the dog or the gun?\nLet him choose (Come on)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.28] Jay\n[00:03.57] Fuck that\n[00:05.05] This is it, right here, baby\n[00:07.20] You know what it is\n[00:10.84] Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n[00:12.98] Might see me in a Jag' truck\n[00:14.67] Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n[00:18.16] Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n[00:20.54] .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n[00:22.86] And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n[00:25.45] 'Cause I walk around with\n[00:27.01] Your whole advance on my wrist\n[00:28.56] Boning your women\n[00:29.88] Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n[00:30.92] And you know I'm still writing the mean\n[00:33.09] Lighting the green I need the buggy\n[00:34.76] Even though I look right in the beam\n[00:36.41] Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n[00:38.23] Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n[00:42.02] We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n[00:45.18] 'Cause them rednecks up in the\n[00:47.59] Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n[00:49.19] Tell you what I want you to know\n[00:51.19] Fuck what you ask me\n[00:52.52] You probably don't want me to blow\n[00:54.54] I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n[00:56.19] Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n[00:58.26] You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n[01:01.04] A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n[01:02.51] And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n[01:06.40] Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n[01:08.62] And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n[01:10.09] (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n[01:11.15] Yo, when my gun bust\n[01:12.73] Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n[01:14.01] New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n[01:15.02] I put fear in y'all heads\n[01:16.40] Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n[01:18.37] And that's warning\n[01:19.56] If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n[01:21.64] Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n[01:23.32] Get what's rightfully mine\n[01:25.55] I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n[01:26.81] I got niggas my pop's age\n[01:28.78] That lifestyle ain't changed\n[01:31.86] It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n[01:33.19] Make car money, check with Sheek\n[01:34.45] Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n[01:35.68] I rock a waist-length mink\n[01:37.22] Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n[01:39.16] And I don't even want waves\n[01:40.27] Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n[01:41.21] That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n[01:42.75] I don't fuck with shoes\n[01:43.76] And for my nigga's life\n[01:45.43] I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n[01:46.58] I put thirty in your head\n[01:48.14] All in the same hole\n[01:49.49] 'Cause we got the same goal\n[01:50.92] And you try and tamper with mine?\n[01:52.45] Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n[01:53.98] You with some shit in your spine\n[01:54.96] Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n[01:57.74] Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n[02:00.73] I extorted your coke\n[02:01.78] 'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n[02:02.55] Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n[02:04.06] In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n[02:09.28] Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n[02:11.83] Blow, stay on the low\n[02:14.52] Get a Heine' and swig\n[02:15.41] I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n[02:17.65] I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n[02:21.17] The first was B.I.G\n[02:21.73] Y'all niggas is sonned out\n[02:22.63] Let me speak to your father\n[02:23.74] 'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n[02:25.41] If I don't like a nigga\n[02:27.87] I don't even be bothered\n[02:30.23] I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n[02:31.34] You hold your nine if you\n[02:32.64] Holding a brick, common sense\n[02:33.69] Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n[02:34.96] L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n[02:38.59] Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n[02:40.84] Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n[02:43.50] I tell all my niggas ride\n[02:45.57] You won't leave with a dime\n[02:48.59] Motherfucker\n[02:57.68] Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n[02:58.41] I sleep whole winters\n[02:58.74] Wake up and spit summers\n[02:59.38] Ghetto nigga, putting up\n[03:00.46] Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n[03:02.37] Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n[03:02.71] Bitches among us\n[03:03.24] Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n[03:04.12] It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n[03:04.87] Now, bitches notice the chains\n[03:08.52] Now that I hit my number\n[03:10.46] The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n[03:11.69] See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n[03:14.03] The beeper done changed\n[03:15.29] Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n[03:16.96] I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n[03:18.16] 'Cause trust me, y'all could\n[03:20.01] Still feel the heat in the rain\n[03:22.19] I keep creepin', streets\n[03:23.27] Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n[03:24.10] Niggas is hotheads and\n[03:25.22] The bullets is heat-seeking\n[03:26.60] Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n[03:29.43] I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n[03:31.49] Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n[03:33.56] Where the sunroof used to be\n[03:35.23] I could see y'all not used to me\n[03:37.44] Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n[03:38.95] I'm the meanest, toughest\n[03:40.91] Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n[03:42.92] You the type to bust a lot of shots\n[03:44.84] And none touch you (Fuck)\n[03:47.00] I'm the type that get excited\n[03:48.15] When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n[03:49.93] Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n[03:52.87] (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n[03:54.51] (Grrrr)\n[03:56.63] I'm headed nowhere fast\n[03:58.22] Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n[03:59.63] Niggas wanted a taste\n[04:01.82] But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n[04:03.04] So what that mean?\n[04:04.18] You cats is playin' games again\n[04:05.11] So now what I do?\n[04:06.58] Start naming names again (What?)\n[04:08.49] All you motherfuckers know that\n[04:11.05] I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n[04:12.85] Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n[04:14.19] We can take it there, but to\n[04:15.54] Make it fair, get some more niggas\n[04:16.81] Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n[04:19.69] Like four niggas (Aight?)\n[04:21.45] Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n[04:22.43] It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n[04:23.72] That'll get you shot in your mouth\n[04:25.35] (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n[04:27.49] Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n[04:30.44] When it's smothered (What?)\n[04:31.58] It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n[04:33.24] Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n[04:34.25] Want it with the dog or the gun?\n[04:35.50] Let him choose (Come on)\n[04:37.20] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX, JAŸ-Z, The LOX\n  album: The Best Of DMX\n  duration_ms: 296000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Jay\n  start_ms: 2280\n  end_ms: 3570\n- text: Fuck that\n  start_ms: 3570\n  end_ms: 5050\n- text: This is it, right here, baby\n  start_ms: 5050\n  end_ms: 7200\n- text: You know what it is\n  start_ms: 7200\n  end_ms: 10840\n- text: Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n  start_ms: 10840\n  end_ms: 12980\n- text: Might see me in a Jag' truck\n  start_ms: 12980\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 18160\n- text: Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  start_ms: 18160\n  end_ms: 20540\n- text: .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  start_ms: 20540\n  end_ms: 22860\n- text: And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  start_ms: 22860\n  end_ms: 25450\n- text: '''Cause I walk around with'\n  start_ms: 25450\n  end_ms: 27010\n- text: Your whole advance on my wrist\n  start_ms: 27010\n  end_ms: 28560\n- text: Boning your women\n  start_ms: 28560\n  end_ms: 29880\n- text: Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  start_ms: 29880\n  end_ms: 30920\n- text: And you know I'm still writing the mean\n  start_ms: 30920\n  end_ms: 33090\n- text: Lighting the green I need the buggy\n  start_ms: 33090\n  end_ms: 34760\n- text: Even though I look right in the beam\n  start_ms: 34760\n  end_ms: 36410\n- text: Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  start_ms: 36410\n  end_ms: 38230\n- text: Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  start_ms: 38230\n  end_ms: 42020\n- text: We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  start_ms: 42020\n  end_ms: 45180\n- text: '''Cause them rednecks up in the'\n  start_ms: 45180\n  end_ms: 47590\n- text: Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n  start_ms: 47590\n  end_ms: 49190\n- text: Tell you what I want you to know\n  start_ms: 49190\n  end_ms: 51190\n- text: Fuck what you ask me\n  start_ms: 51190\n  end_ms: 52520\n- text: You probably don't want me to blow\n  start_ms: 52520\n  end_ms: 54540\n- text: I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  start_ms: 54540\n  end_ms: 56190\n- text: Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  start_ms: 56190\n  end_ms: 58260\n- text: You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 58260\n  end_ms: 61040\n- text: A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 61040\n  end_ms: 62510\n- text: And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  start_ms: 62510\n  end_ms: 66400\n- text: Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  start_ms: 66400\n  end_ms: 68620\n- text: And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  start_ms: 68620\n  end_ms: 70090\n- text: (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n  start_ms: 70090\n  end_ms: 71150\n- text: Yo, when my gun bust\n  start_ms: 71150\n  end_ms: 72730\n- text: Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  start_ms: 72730\n  end_ms: 74010\n- text: New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n  start_ms: 74010\n  end_ms: 75020\n- text: I put fear in y'all heads\n  start_ms: 75020\n  end_ms: 76400\n- text: Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  start_ms: 76400\n  end_ms: 78370\n- text: And that's warning\n  start_ms: 78370\n  end_ms: 79560\n- text: If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  start_ms: 79560\n  end_ms: 81640\n- text: Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n  start_ms: 81640\n  end_ms: 83320\n- text: Get what's rightfully mine\n  start_ms: 83320\n  end_ms: 85550\n- text: I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  start_ms: 85550\n  end_ms: 86810\n- text: I got niggas my pop's age\n  start_ms: 86810\n  end_ms: 88780\n- text: That lifestyle ain't changed\n  start_ms: 88780\n  end_ms: 91860\n- text: It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  start_ms: 91860\n  end_ms: 93190\n- text: Make car money, check with Sheek\n  start_ms: 93190\n  end_ms: 94450\n- text: Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n  start_ms: 94450\n  end_ms: 95680\n- text: I rock a waist-length mink\n  start_ms: 95680\n  end_ms: 97220\n- text: Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n  start_ms: 97220\n  end_ms: 99160\n- text: And I don't even want waves\n  start_ms: 99160\n  end_ms: 100270\n- text: Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n  start_ms: 100270\n  end_ms: 101210\n- text: That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n  start_ms: 101210\n  end_ms: 102750\n- text: I don't fuck with shoes\n  start_ms: 102750\n  end_ms: 103760\n- text: And for my nigga's life\n  start_ms: 103760\n  end_ms: 105430\n- text: I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  start_ms: 105430\n  end_ms: 106580\n- text: I put thirty in your head\n  start_ms: 106580\n  end_ms: 108140\n- text: All in the same hole\n  start_ms: 108140\n  end_ms: 109490\n- text: '''Cause we got the same goal'\n  start_ms: 109490\n  end_ms: 110920\n- text: And you try and tamper with mine?\n  start_ms: 110920\n  end_ms: 112450\n- text: Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n  start_ms: 112450\n  end_ms: 113980\n- text: You with some shit in your spine\n  start_ms: 113980\n  end_ms: 114960\n- text: Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n  start_ms: 114960\n  end_ms: 117740\n- text: Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n  start_ms: 117740\n  end_ms: 120730\n- text: I extorted your coke\n  start_ms: 120730\n  end_ms: 121780\n- text: '''Ju crazy? (Haha)'\n  start_ms: 121780\n  end_ms: 122550\n- text: Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n  start_ms: 122550\n  end_ms: 124060\n- text: In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  start_ms: 124060\n  end_ms: 129280\n- text: Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  start_ms: 129280\n  end_ms: 131830\n- text: Blow, stay on the low\n  start_ms: 131830\n  end_ms: 134520\n- text: Get a Heine' and swig\n  start_ms: 134520\n  end_ms: 135410\n- text: I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  start_ms: 135410\n  end_ms: 137650\n- text: I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n  start_ms: 137650\n  end_ms: 141170\n- text: The first was B.I.G\n  start_ms: 141170\n  end_ms: 141730\n- text: Y'all niggas is sonned out\n  start_ms: 141730\n  end_ms: 142630\n- text: Let me speak to your father\n  start_ms: 142630\n  end_ms: 143740\n- text: '''Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver'\n  start_ms: 143740\n  end_ms: 145410\n- text: If I don't like a nigga\n  start_ms: 145410\n  end_ms: 147870\n- text: I don't even be bothered\n  start_ms: 147870\n  end_ms: 150230\n- text: I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  start_ms: 150230\n  end_ms: 151340\n- text: You hold your nine if you\n  start_ms: 151340\n  end_ms: 152640\n- text: Holding a brick, common sense\n  start_ms: 152640\n  end_ms: 153690\n- text: Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  start_ms: 153690\n  end_ms: 154960\n- text: L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  start_ms: 154960\n  end_ms: 158590\n- text: Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  start_ms: 158590\n  end_ms: 160840\n- text: Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  start_ms: 160840\n  end_ms: 163500\n- text: I tell all my niggas ride\n  start_ms: 163500\n  end_ms: 165570\n- text: You won't leave with a dime\n  start_ms: 165570\n  end_ms: 168590\n- text: Motherfucker\n  start_ms: 168590\n  end_ms: 177680\n- text: Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n  start_ms: 177680\n  end_ms: 178410\n- text: I sleep whole winters\n  start_ms: 178410\n  end_ms: 178740\n- text: Wake up and spit summers\n  start_ms: 178740\n  end_ms: 179380\n- text: Ghetto nigga, putting up\n  start_ms: 179380\n  end_ms: 180460\n- text: Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 180460\n  end_ms: 182370\n- text: Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n  start_ms: 182370\n  end_ms: 182710\n- text: Bitches among us\n  start_ms: 182710\n  end_ms: 183240\n- text: Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  start_ms: 183240\n  end_ms: 184120\n- text: It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 184870\n- text: Now, bitches notice the chains\n  start_ms: 184870\n  end_ms: 188520\n- text: Now that I hit my number\n  start_ms: 188520\n  end_ms: 190460\n- text: The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 190460\n  end_ms: 191690\n- text: See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 191690\n  end_ms: 194030\n- text: The beeper done changed\n  start_ms: 194030\n  end_ms: 195290\n- text: Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n  start_ms: 195290\n  end_ms: 196960\n- text: I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  start_ms: 196960\n  end_ms: 198160\n- text: '''Cause trust me, y''all could'\n  start_ms: 198160\n  end_ms: 200010\n- text: Still feel the heat in the rain\n  start_ms: 200010\n  end_ms: 202190\n- text: I keep creepin', streets\n  start_ms: 202190\n  end_ms: 203270\n- text: Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  start_ms: 203270\n  end_ms: 204100\n- text: Niggas is hotheads and\n  start_ms: 204100\n  end_ms: 205220\n- text: The bullets is heat-seeking\n  start_ms: 205220\n  end_ms: 206600\n- text: Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  start_ms: 206600\n  end_ms: 209430\n- text: I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  start_ms: 209430\n  end_ms: 211490\n- text: Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 211490\n  end_ms: 213560\n- text: Where the sunroof used to be\n  start_ms: 213560\n  end_ms: 215230\n- text: I could see y'all not used to me\n  start_ms: 215230\n  end_ms: 217440\n- text: Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 217440\n  end_ms: 218950\n- text: I'm the meanest, toughest\n  start_ms: 218950\n  end_ms: 220910\n- text: Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n  start_ms: 220910\n  end_ms: 222920\n- text: You the type to bust a lot of shots\n  start_ms: 222920\n  end_ms: 224840\n- text: And none touch you (Fuck)\n  start_ms: 224840\n  end_ms: 227000\n- text: I'm the type that get excited\n  start_ms: 227000\n  end_ms: 228150\n- text: When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 228150\n  end_ms: 229930\n- text: Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  start_ms: 229930\n  end_ms: 232870\n- text: (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n  start_ms: 232870\n  end_ms: 234510\n- text: (Grrrr)\n  start_ms: 234510\n  end_ms: 236630\n- text: I'm headed nowhere fast\n  start_ms: 236630\n  end_ms: 238220\n- text: Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n  start_ms: 238220\n  end_ms: 239630\n- text: Niggas wanted a taste\n  start_ms: 239630\n  end_ms: 241820\n- text: But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 241820\n  end_ms: 243040\n- text: So what that mean?\n  start_ms: 243040\n  end_ms: 244180\n- text: You cats is playin' games again\n  start_ms: 244180\n  end_ms: 245110\n- text: So now what I do?\n  start_ms: 245110\n  end_ms: 246580\n- text: Start naming names again (What?)\n  start_ms: 246580\n  end_ms: 248490\n- text: All you motherfuckers know that\n  start_ms: 248490\n  end_ms: 251050\n- text: I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 251050\n  end_ms: 252850\n- text: Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  start_ms: 252850\n  end_ms: 254190\n- text: We can take it there, but to\n  start_ms: 254190\n  end_ms: 255540\n- text: Make it fair, get some more niggas\n  start_ms: 255540\n  end_ms: 256810\n- text: Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n  start_ms: 256810\n  end_ms: 259690\n- text: Like four niggas (Aight?)\n  start_ms: 259690\n  end_ms: 261450\n- text: Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  start_ms: 261450\n  end_ms: 262430\n- text: It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  start_ms: 262430\n  end_ms: 263720\n- text: That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  start_ms: 263720\n  end_ms: 265350\n- text: (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 265350\n  end_ms: 267490\n- text: Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n  start_ms: 267490\n  end_ms: 270440\n- text: When it's smothered (What?)\n  start_ms: 270440\n  end_ms: 271580\n- text: It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 271580\n  end_ms: 273240\n- text: Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n  start_ms: 273240\n  end_ms: 274250\n- text: Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  start_ms: 274250\n  end_ms: 275500\n- text: Let him choose (Come on)\n  start_ms: 275500\n  end_ms: 277200\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 277200\nplain: |-\n  Jay\n  Fuck that\n  This is it, right here, baby\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n  Might see me in a Jag' truck\n  Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with\n  Your whole advance on my wrist\n  Boning your women\n\n  Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writing the mean\n  Lighting the green I need the buggy\n  Even though I look right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the\n\n  Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n  Tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me\n  You probably don't want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n  A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\n  Yo, when my gun bust\n  Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n  I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warning\n\n  If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n  Get what's rightfully mine\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggas my pop's age\n  That lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheek\n  Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n  I rock a waist-length mink\n\n  Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n  And I don't even want waves\n  Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n  That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n  I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life\n\n  I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  I put thirty in your head\n  All in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal\n  And you try and tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n  You with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n  I extorted your coke\n  'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n\n  Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n  In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  Blow, stay on the low\n  Get a Heine' and swig\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n  The first was B.I.G\n\n  Y'all niggas is sonned out\n  Let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n  If I don't like a nigga\n  I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  You hold your nine if you\n  Holding a brick, common sense\n  Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggas ride\n  You won't leave with a dime\n  Motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n  I sleep whole winters\n  Wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, putting up\n  Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n  Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n  Bitches among us\n\n  Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  Now, bitches notice the chains\n  Now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n  See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n  The beeper done changed\n  Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all could\n  Still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets\n  Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggas is hotheads and\n  The bullets is heat-seeking\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n  Where the sunroof used to be\n  I could see y'all not used to me\n  Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n  I'm the meanest, toughest\n  Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n\n  You the type to bust a lot of shots\n  And none touch you (Fuck)\n  I'm the type that get excited\n  When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n  Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n  (Grrrr)\n  I'm headed nowhere fast\n  Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n  Niggas wanted a taste\n  But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n  So what that mean?\n  You cats is playin' games again\n\n  So now what I do?\n  Start naming names again (What?)\n  All you motherfuckers know that\n  I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n  Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to\n  Make it fair, get some more niggas\n\n  Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n  Like four niggas (Aight?)\n  Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n\n  Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n  When it's smothered (What?)\n  It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n  Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n  Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  Let him choose (Come on)\n"},{"id":25137733,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX, JAY-Z, L.O.X.","albumName":"The Best Of DMX","duration":300.16,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay\nFuck that\nThis is it, right here, baby\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you\nMight see me in a Jag' truck\nMasked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R tee with the matching bandana\n.38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\nAnd I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with\nYour whole advance on my wrist\nBoning your women\n\nDrunk off Coronas and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writing the mean\nLighting the green I need the buggy\nEven though I look right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n'Cause them rednecks up in the\n\nMountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\nTell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me\nYou probably don't want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\nA hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n(Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\nYo, when my gun bust\nSend niggas to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\nI put fear in y'all heads\nSheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warning\n\nIf you all alive in the morning, that's fine\nNow, I suggest you hit the block and\nGet what's rightfully mine\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggas my pop's age\nThat lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheek\nGo fuck with a ho (Ha)\nI rock a waist-length mink\n\nDurag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\nAnd I don't even want waves\nTimbs be halfway new (Huh?)\nThat's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\nI don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life\n\nI swear to the Bible, let it be told\nI put thirty in your head\nAll in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal\nAnd you try and tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave\nYou with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore\nI extorted your coke\n'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n\nAyo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\nIn a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of Ls\nBlow, stay on the low\nGet a Heine' and swig\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\nThe first was B.I.G\n\nY'all niggas is sonned out\nLet me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\nIf I don't like a nigga\nI don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\nYou hold your nine if you\nHolding a brick, common sense\nFed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\nI tell all my niggas ride\nYou won't leave with a dime\nMotherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah, I'm a monster\nI sleep whole winters\nWake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, putting up\nWill Smith numbers (Ugh)\nSurrounded by Sixes and Hummers\nBitches among us\n\nTrying not to let this bullshit become us\nIt started from hunger 'til it all went insane\nNow, bitches notice the chains\nNow that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted (Ugh)\nSee the digits unlisted (Yeah)\nThe beeper done changed\nYour dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all could\nStill feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets\nKeep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggas is hotheads and\nThe bullets is heat-seeking\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\nWhere the sunroof used to be\nI could see y'all not used to me\nNigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\nI'm the meanest, toughest\nDon Dada to gun-butt ya\n\nYou the type to bust a lot of shots\nAnd none touch you (Fuck)\nI'm the type that get excited\nWhen the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\nY'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n(Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n(Grrrr)\nI'm headed nowhere fast\nRunning in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\nNiggas wanted a taste\nBut wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\nSo what that mean?\nYou cats is playin' games again\n\nSo now what I do?\nStart naming names again (What?)\nAll you motherfuckers know that\nI speak from the heart (Ugh)\nPlay like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to\nMake it fair, get some more niggas\n\nStyles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\nLike four niggas (Aight?)\nY'all niggas best to stop playin'\nIt'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth\n(Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n\nPlus it's all gravy, like chicken\nWhen it's smothered (What?)\nIt's dark and I love it (Ugh)\nGet him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\nWant it with the dog or the gun?\nLet him choose (Come on)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.22] Jay\n[00:03.52] Fuck that\n[00:05.08] This is it, right here, baby\n[00:07.20] You know what it is\n[00:10.81] Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n[00:12.94] Might see me in a Jag' truck\n[00:14.67] Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n[00:18.17] Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n[00:20.60] .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n[00:22.83] And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n[00:25.49] 'Cause I walk around with\n[00:27.09] Your whole advance on my wrist\n[00:28.56] Boning your women\n[00:29.84] Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n[00:30.94] And you know I'm still writing the mean\n[00:33.05] Lighting the green I need the buggy\n[00:34.78] Even though I look right in the beam\n[00:36.45] Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n[00:38.29] Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n[00:42.09] We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n[00:45.14] 'Cause them rednecks up in the\n[00:47.56] Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n[00:49.10] Tell you what I want you to know\n[00:51.17] Fuck what you ask me\n[00:52.58] You probably don't want me to blow\n[00:54.52] I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n[00:56.18] Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n[00:58.21] You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n[01:01.05] A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n[01:02.55] And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n[01:06.36] Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n[01:08.67] And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n[01:10.08] (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n[01:11.14] Yo, when my gun bust\n[01:12.78] Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n[01:14.07] New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n[01:15.08] I put fear in y'all heads\n[01:16.34] Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n[01:18.33] And that's warning\n[01:19.59] If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n[01:21.66] Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n[01:23.33] Get what's rightfully mine\n[01:25.57] I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n[01:26.83] I got niggas my pop's age\n[01:28.76] That lifestyle ain't changed\n[01:31.80] It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n[01:33.18] Make car money, check with Sheek\n[01:34.44] Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n[01:35.66] I rock a waist-length mink\n[01:37.26] Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n[01:39.12] And I don't even want waves\n[01:40.30] Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n[01:41.23] That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n[01:42.72] I don't fuck with shoes\n[01:43.78] And for my nigga's life\n[01:45.42] I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n[01:46.53] I put thirty in your head\n[01:48.14] All in the same hole\n[01:49.43] 'Cause we got the same goal\n[01:50.99] And you try and tamper with mine?\n[01:52.50] Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n[01:53.99] You with some shit in your spine\n[01:54.97] Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n[01:57.77] Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n[02:00.73] I extorted your coke\n[02:01.74] 'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n[02:02.54] Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n[02:04.03] In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n[02:09.28] Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n[02:11.89] Blow, stay on the low\n[02:14.51] Get a Heine' and swig\n[02:15.44] I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n[02:17.61] I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n[02:21.18] The first was B.I.G\n[02:21.77] Y'all niggas is sonned out\n[02:22.68] Let me speak to your father\n[02:23.78] 'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n[02:25.43] If I don't like a nigga\n[02:27.80] I don't even be bothered\n[02:30.24] I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n[02:31.31] You hold your nine if you\n[02:32.63] Holding a brick, common sense\n[02:33.64] Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n[02:34.95] L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n[02:38.54] Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n[02:40.81] Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n[02:43.47] I tell all my niggas ride\n[02:45.58] You won't leave with a dime\n[02:48.57] Motherfucker\n[02:57.69] Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n[02:58.48] I sleep whole winters\n[02:58.76] Wake up and spit summers\n[02:59.39] Ghetto nigga, putting up\n[03:00.44] Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n[03:02.33] Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n[03:02.72] Bitches among us\n[03:03.28] Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n[03:04.17] It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n[03:04.84] Now, bitches notice the chains\n[03:08.57] Now that I hit my number\n[03:10.46] The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n[03:11.65] See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n[03:14.00] The beeper done changed\n[03:15.26] Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n[03:16.92] I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n[03:18.17] 'Cause trust me, y'all could\n[03:20.03] Still feel the heat in the rain\n[03:22.19] I keep creepin', streets\n[03:23.21] Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n[03:24.05] Niggas is hotheads and\n[03:25.23] The bullets is heat-seeking\n[03:26.61] Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n[03:29.47] I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n[03:31.46] Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n[03:33.55] Where the sunroof used to be\n[03:35.22] I could see y'all not used to me\n[03:37.48] Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n[03:38.92] I'm the meanest, toughest\n[03:40.99] Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n[03:42.94] You the type to bust a lot of shots\n[03:44.82] And none touch you (Fuck)\n[03:47.07] I'm the type that get excited\n[03:48.20] When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n[03:49.91] Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n[03:52.81] (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n[03:54.52] (Grrrr)\n[03:56.62] I'm headed nowhere fast\n[03:58.20] Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n[03:59.69] Niggas wanted a taste\n[04:01.87] But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n[04:03.06] So what that mean?\n[04:04.14] You cats is playin' games again\n[04:05.12] So now what I do?\n[04:06.57] Start naming names again (What?)\n[04:08.42] All you motherfuckers know that\n[04:11.02] I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n[04:12.85] Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n[04:14.14] We can take it there, but to\n[04:15.51] Make it fair, get some more niggas\n[04:16.85] Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n[04:19.68] Like four niggas (Aight?)\n[04:21.43] Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n[04:22.47] It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n[04:23.75] That'll get you shot in your mouth\n[04:25.40] (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n[04:27.43] Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n[04:30.46] When it's smothered (What?)\n[04:31.57] It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n[04:33.25] Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n[04:34.27] Want it with the dog or the gun?\n[04:35.41] Let him choose (Come on)\n[04:37.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX, JAY-Z, L.O.X.\n  album: The Best Of DMX\n  duration_ms: 300160\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Jay\n  start_ms: 2220\n  end_ms: 3520\n- text: Fuck that\n  start_ms: 3520\n  end_ms: 5080\n- text: This is it, right here, baby\n  start_ms: 5080\n  end_ms: 7200\n- text: You know what it is\n  start_ms: 7200\n  end_ms: 10810\n- text: Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n  start_ms: 10810\n  end_ms: 12940\n- text: Might see me in a Jag' truck\n  start_ms: 12940\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 18170\n- text: Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  start_ms: 18170\n  end_ms: 20600\n- text: .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  start_ms: 20600\n  end_ms: 22830\n- text: And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  start_ms: 22830\n  end_ms: 25490\n- text: '''Cause I walk around with'\n  start_ms: 25490\n  end_ms: 27090\n- text: Your whole advance on my wrist\n  start_ms: 27090\n  end_ms: 28560\n- text: Boning your women\n  start_ms: 28560\n  end_ms: 29840\n- text: Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  start_ms: 29840\n  end_ms: 30940\n- text: And you know I'm still writing the mean\n  start_ms: 30940\n  end_ms: 33050\n- text: Lighting the green I need the buggy\n  start_ms: 33050\n  end_ms: 34780\n- text: Even though I look right in the beam\n  start_ms: 34780\n  end_ms: 36450\n- text: Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  start_ms: 36450\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 42090\n- text: We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  start_ms: 42090\n  end_ms: 45140\n- text: '''Cause them rednecks up in the'\n  start_ms: 45140\n  end_ms: 47560\n- text: Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n  start_ms: 47560\n  end_ms: 49100\n- text: Tell you what I want you to know\n  start_ms: 49100\n  end_ms: 51170\n- text: Fuck what you ask me\n  start_ms: 51170\n  end_ms: 52580\n- text: You probably don't want me to blow\n  start_ms: 52580\n  end_ms: 54520\n- text: I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  start_ms: 54520\n  end_ms: 56180\n- text: Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  start_ms: 56180\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61050\n- text: A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 61050\n  end_ms: 62550\n- text: And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  start_ms: 62550\n  end_ms: 66360\n- text: Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  start_ms: 66360\n  end_ms: 68670\n- text: And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  start_ms: 68670\n  end_ms: 70080\n- text: (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n  start_ms: 70080\n  end_ms: 71140\n- text: Yo, when my gun bust\n  start_ms: 71140\n  end_ms: 72780\n- text: Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  start_ms: 72780\n  end_ms: 74070\n- text: New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n  start_ms: 74070\n  end_ms: 75080\n- text: I put fear in y'all heads\n  start_ms: 75080\n  end_ms: 76340\n- text: Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  start_ms: 76340\n  end_ms: 78330\n- text: And that's warning\n  start_ms: 78330\n  end_ms: 79590\n- text: If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  start_ms: 79590\n  end_ms: 81660\n- text: Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n  start_ms: 81660\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Get what's rightfully mine\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 85570\n- text: I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  start_ms: 85570\n  end_ms: 86830\n- text: I got niggas my pop's age\n  start_ms: 86830\n  end_ms: 88760\n- text: That lifestyle ain't changed\n  start_ms: 88760\n  end_ms: 91800\n- text: It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  start_ms: 91800\n  end_ms: 93180\n- text: Make car money, check with Sheek\n  start_ms: 93180\n  end_ms: 94440\n- text: Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n  start_ms: 94440\n  end_ms: 95660\n- text: I rock a waist-length mink\n  start_ms: 95660\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99120\n- text: And I don't even want waves\n  start_ms: 99120\n  end_ms: 100300\n- text: Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n  start_ms: 100300\n  end_ms: 101230\n- text: That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n  start_ms: 101230\n  end_ms: 102720\n- text: I don't fuck with shoes\n  start_ms: 102720\n  end_ms: 103780\n- text: And for my nigga's life\n  start_ms: 103780\n  end_ms: 105420\n- text: I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  start_ms: 105420\n  end_ms: 106530\n- text: I put thirty in your head\n  start_ms: 106530\n  end_ms: 108140\n- text: All in the same hole\n  start_ms: 108140\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: '''Cause we got the same goal'\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 110990\n- text: And you try and tamper with mine?\n  start_ms: 110990\n  end_ms: 112500\n- text: Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n  start_ms: 112500\n  end_ms: 113990\n- text: You with some shit in your spine\n  start_ms: 113990\n  end_ms: 114970\n- text: Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n  start_ms: 114970\n  end_ms: 117770\n- text: Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n  start_ms: 117770\n  end_ms: 120730\n- text: I extorted your coke\n  start_ms: 120730\n  end_ms: 121740\n- text: '''Ju crazy? (Haha)'\n  start_ms: 121740\n  end_ms: 122540\n- text: Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n  start_ms: 122540\n  end_ms: 124030\n- text: In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  start_ms: 124030\n  end_ms: 129280\n- text: Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  start_ms: 129280\n  end_ms: 131890\n- text: Blow, stay on the low\n  start_ms: 131890\n  end_ms: 134510\n- text: Get a Heine' and swig\n  start_ms: 134510\n  end_ms: 135440\n- text: I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  start_ms: 135440\n  end_ms: 137610\n- text: I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n  start_ms: 137610\n  end_ms: 141180\n- text: The first was B.I.G\n  start_ms: 141180\n  end_ms: 141770\n- text: Y'all niggas is sonned out\n  start_ms: 141770\n  end_ms: 142680\n- text: Let me speak to your father\n  start_ms: 142680\n  end_ms: 143780\n- text: '''Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver'\n  start_ms: 143780\n  end_ms: 145430\n- text: If I don't like a nigga\n  start_ms: 145430\n  end_ms: 147800\n- text: I don't even be bothered\n  start_ms: 147800\n  end_ms: 150240\n- text: I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  start_ms: 150240\n  end_ms: 151310\n- text: You hold your nine if you\n  start_ms: 151310\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: Holding a brick, common sense\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 153640\n- text: Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  start_ms: 153640\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 158540\n- text: Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  start_ms: 158540\n  end_ms: 160810\n- text: Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  start_ms: 160810\n  end_ms: 163470\n- text: I tell all my niggas ride\n  start_ms: 163470\n  end_ms: 165580\n- text: You won't leave with a dime\n  start_ms: 165580\n  end_ms: 168570\n- text: Motherfucker\n  start_ms: 168570\n  end_ms: 177690\n- text: Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n  start_ms: 177690\n  end_ms: 178480\n- text: I sleep whole winters\n  start_ms: 178480\n  end_ms: 178760\n- text: Wake up and spit summers\n  start_ms: 178760\n  end_ms: 179390\n- text: Ghetto nigga, putting up\n  start_ms: 179390\n  end_ms: 180440\n- text: Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 180440\n  end_ms: 182330\n- text: Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n  start_ms: 182330\n  end_ms: 182720\n- text: Bitches among us\n  start_ms: 182720\n  end_ms: 183280\n- text: Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  start_ms: 183280\n  end_ms: 184170\n- text: It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  start_ms: 184170\n  end_ms: 184840\n- text: Now, bitches notice the chains\n  start_ms: 184840\n  end_ms: 188570\n- text: Now that I hit my number\n  start_ms: 188570\n  end_ms: 190460\n- text: The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 190460\n  end_ms: 191650\n- text: See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 191650\n  end_ms: 194000\n- text: The beeper done changed\n  start_ms: 194000\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 196920\n- text: I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  start_ms: 196920\n  end_ms: 198170\n- text: '''Cause trust me, y''all could'\n  start_ms: 198170\n  end_ms: 200030\n- text: Still feel the heat in the rain\n  start_ms: 200030\n  end_ms: 202190\n- text: I keep creepin', streets\n  start_ms: 202190\n  end_ms: 203210\n- text: Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  start_ms: 203210\n  end_ms: 204050\n- text: Niggas is hotheads and\n  start_ms: 204050\n  end_ms: 205230\n- text: The bullets is heat-seeking\n  start_ms: 205230\n  end_ms: 206610\n- text: Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  start_ms: 206610\n  end_ms: 209470\n- text: I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  start_ms: 209470\n  end_ms: 211460\n- text: Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 211460\n  end_ms: 213550\n- text: Where the sunroof used to be\n  start_ms: 213550\n  end_ms: 215220\n- text: I could see y'all not used to me\n  start_ms: 215220\n  end_ms: 217480\n- text: Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 217480\n  end_ms: 218920\n- text: I'm the meanest, toughest\n  start_ms: 218920\n  end_ms: 220990\n- text: Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n  start_ms: 220990\n  end_ms: 222940\n- text: You the type to bust a lot of shots\n  start_ms: 222940\n  end_ms: 224820\n- text: And none touch you (Fuck)\n  start_ms: 224820\n  end_ms: 227070\n- text: I'm the type that get excited\n  start_ms: 227070\n  end_ms: 228200\n- text: When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 228200\n  end_ms: 229910\n- text: Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  start_ms: 229910\n  end_ms: 232810\n- text: (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n  start_ms: 232810\n  end_ms: 234520\n- text: (Grrrr)\n  start_ms: 234520\n  end_ms: 236620\n- text: I'm headed nowhere fast\n  start_ms: 236620\n  end_ms: 238200\n- text: Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n  start_ms: 238200\n  end_ms: 239690\n- text: Niggas wanted a taste\n  start_ms: 239690\n  end_ms: 241870\n- text: But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 241870\n  end_ms: 243060\n- text: So what that mean?\n  start_ms: 243060\n  end_ms: 244140\n- text: You cats is playin' games again\n  start_ms: 244140\n  end_ms: 245120\n- text: So now what I do?\n  start_ms: 245120\n  end_ms: 246570\n- text: Start naming names again (What?)\n  start_ms: 246570\n  end_ms: 248420\n- text: All you motherfuckers know that\n  start_ms: 248420\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 252850\n- text: Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  start_ms: 252850\n  end_ms: 254140\n- text: We can take it there, but to\n  start_ms: 254140\n  end_ms: 255510\n- text: Make it fair, get some more niggas\n  start_ms: 255510\n  end_ms: 256850\n- text: Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n  start_ms: 256850\n  end_ms: 259680\n- text: Like four niggas (Aight?)\n  start_ms: 259680\n  end_ms: 261430\n- text: Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  start_ms: 261430\n  end_ms: 262470\n- text: It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  start_ms: 262470\n  end_ms: 263750\n- text: That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  start_ms: 263750\n  end_ms: 265400\n- text: (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 265400\n  end_ms: 267430\n- text: Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n  start_ms: 267430\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: When it's smothered (What?)\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 271570\n- text: It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 271570\n  end_ms: 273250\n- text: Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n  start_ms: 273250\n  end_ms: 274270\n- text: Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  start_ms: 274270\n  end_ms: 275410\n- text: Let him choose (Come on)\n  start_ms: 275410\n  end_ms: 277180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 277180\nplain: |-\n  Jay\n  Fuck that\n  This is it, right here, baby\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n  Might see me in a Jag' truck\n  Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with\n  Your whole advance on my wrist\n  Boning your women\n\n  Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writing the mean\n  Lighting the green I need the buggy\n  Even though I look right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the\n\n  Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n  Tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me\n  You probably don't want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n  A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\n  Yo, when my gun bust\n  Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n  I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warning\n\n  If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n  Get what's rightfully mine\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggas my pop's age\n  That lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheek\n  Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n  I rock a waist-length mink\n\n  Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n  And I don't even want waves\n  Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n  That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n  I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life\n\n  I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  I put thirty in your head\n  All in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal\n  And you try and tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n  You with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n  I extorted your coke\n  'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n\n  Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n  In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  Blow, stay on the low\n  Get a Heine' and swig\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n  The first was B.I.G\n\n  Y'all niggas is sonned out\n  Let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n  If I don't like a nigga\n  I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  You hold your nine if you\n  Holding a brick, common sense\n  Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggas ride\n  You won't leave with a dime\n  Motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n  I sleep whole winters\n  Wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, putting up\n  Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n  Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n  Bitches among us\n\n  Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  Now, bitches notice the chains\n  Now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n  See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n  The beeper done changed\n  Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all could\n  Still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets\n  Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggas is hotheads and\n  The bullets is heat-seeking\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n  Where the sunroof used to be\n  I could see y'all not used to me\n  Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n  I'm the meanest, toughest\n  Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n\n  You the type to bust a lot of shots\n  And none touch you (Fuck)\n  I'm the type that get excited\n  When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n  Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n  (Grrrr)\n  I'm headed nowhere fast\n  Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n  Niggas wanted a taste\n  But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n  So what that mean?\n  You cats is playin' games again\n\n  So now what I do?\n  Start naming names again (What?)\n  All you motherfuckers know that\n  I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n  Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to\n  Make it fair, get some more niggas\n\n  Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n  Like four niggas (Aight?)\n  Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n\n  Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n  When it's smothered (What?)\n  It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n  Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n  Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  Let him choose (Come on)\n"},{"id":27053610,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX;Jay-Z;L.O.X.","albumName":"The Best Of DMX","duration":296.202449,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay\nFuck that\nThis is it, right here, baby\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you\nMight see me in a Jag' truck\nMasked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R tee with the matching bandana\n.38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\nAnd I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with\nYour whole advance on my wrist\nBoning your women\n\nDrunk off Coronas and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writing the mean\nLighting the green I need the buggy\nEven though I look right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n'Cause them rednecks up in the\n\nMountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\nTell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me\nYou probably don't want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\nA hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n(Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\nYo, when my gun bust\nSend niggas to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\nI put fear in y'all heads\nSheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warning\n\nIf you all alive in the morning, that's fine\nNow, I suggest you hit the block and\nGet what's rightfully mine\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggas my pop's age\nThat lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheek\nGo fuck with a ho (Ha)\nI rock a waist-length mink\n\nDurag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\nAnd I don't even want waves\nTimbs be halfway new (Huh?)\nThat's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\nI don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life\n\nI swear to the Bible, let it be told\nI put thirty in your head\nAll in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal\nAnd you try and tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave\nYou with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore\nI extorted your coke\n'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n\nAyo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\nIn a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of Ls\nBlow, stay on the low\nGet a Heine' and swig\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\nThe first was B.I.G\n\nY'all niggas is sonned out\nLet me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\nIf I don't like a nigga\nI don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\nYou hold your nine if you\nHolding a brick, common sense\nFed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\nI tell all my niggas ride\nYou won't leave with a dime\nMotherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah, I'm a monster\nI sleep whole winters\nWake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, putting up\nWill Smith numbers (Ugh)\nSurrounded by Sixes and Hummers\nBitches among us\n\nTrying not to let this bullshit become us\nIt started from hunger 'til it all went insane\nNow, bitches notice the chains\nNow that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted (Ugh)\nSee the digits unlisted (Yeah)\nThe beeper done changed\nYour dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all could\nStill feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets\nKeep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggas is hotheads and\nThe bullets is heat-seeking\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\nWhere the sunroof used to be\nI could see y'all not used to me\nNigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\nI'm the meanest, toughest\nDon Dada to gun-butt ya\n\nYou the type to bust a lot of shots\nAnd none touch you (Fuck)\nI'm the type that get excited\nWhen the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\nY'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n(Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n(Grrrr)\nI'm headed nowhere fast\nRunning in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\nNiggas wanted a taste\nBut wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\nSo what that mean?\nYou cats is playin' games again\n\nSo now what I do?\nStart naming names again (What?)\nAll you motherfuckers know that\nI speak from the heart (Ugh)\nPlay like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to\nMake it fair, get some more niggas\n\nStyles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\nLike four niggas (Aight?)\nY'all niggas best to stop playin'\nIt'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth\n(Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n\nPlus it's all gravy, like chicken\nWhen it's smothered (What?)\nIt's dark and I love it (Ugh)\nGet him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\nWant it with the dog or the gun?\nLet him choose (Come on)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.22] Jay\n[00:03.52] Fuck that\n[00:05.08] This is it, right here, baby\n[00:07.20] You know what it is\n[00:10.81] Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n[00:12.94] Might see me in a Jag' truck\n[00:14.67] Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n[00:18.17] Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n[00:20.60] .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n[00:22.83] And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n[00:25.49] 'Cause I walk around with\n[00:27.09] Your whole advance on my wrist\n[00:28.56] Boning your women\n[00:29.84] Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n[00:30.94] And you know I'm still writing the mean\n[00:33.05] Lighting the green I need the buggy\n[00:34.78] Even though I look right in the beam\n[00:36.45] Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n[00:38.29] Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n[00:42.09] We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n[00:45.14] 'Cause them rednecks up in the\n[00:47.56] Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n[00:49.10] Tell you what I want you to know\n[00:51.17] Fuck what you ask me\n[00:52.58] You probably don't want me to blow\n[00:54.52] I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n[00:56.18] Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n[00:58.21] You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n[01:01.05] A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n[01:02.55] And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n[01:06.36] Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n[01:08.67] And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n[01:10.08] (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n[01:11.14] Yo, when my gun bust\n[01:12.78] Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n[01:14.07] New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n[01:15.08] I put fear in y'all heads\n[01:16.34] Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n[01:18.33] And that's warning\n[01:19.59] If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n[01:21.66] Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n[01:23.33] Get what's rightfully mine\n[01:25.57] I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n[01:26.83] I got niggas my pop's age\n[01:28.76] That lifestyle ain't changed\n[01:31.80] It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n[01:33.18] Make car money, check with Sheek\n[01:34.44] Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n[01:35.66] I rock a waist-length mink\n[01:37.26] Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n[01:39.12] And I don't even want waves\n[01:40.30] Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n[01:41.23] That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n[01:42.72] I don't fuck with shoes\n[01:43.78] And for my nigga's life\n[01:45.42] I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n[01:46.53] I put thirty in your head\n[01:48.14] All in the same hole\n[01:49.43] 'Cause we got the same goal\n[01:50.99] And you try and tamper with mine?\n[01:52.50] Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n[01:53.99] You with some shit in your spine\n[01:54.97] Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n[01:57.77] Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n[02:00.73] I extorted your coke\n[02:01.74] 'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n[02:02.54] Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n[02:04.03] In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n[02:09.28] Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n[02:11.89] Blow, stay on the low\n[02:14.51] Get a Heine' and swig\n[02:15.44] I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n[02:17.61] I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n[02:21.18] The first was B.I.G\n[02:21.77] Y'all niggas is sonned out\n[02:22.68] Let me speak to your father\n[02:23.78] 'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n[02:25.43] If I don't like a nigga\n[02:27.80] I don't even be bothered\n[02:30.24] I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n[02:31.31] You hold your nine if you\n[02:32.63] Holding a brick, common sense\n[02:33.64] Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n[02:34.95] L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n[02:38.54] Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n[02:40.81] Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n[02:43.47] I tell all my niggas ride\n[02:45.58] You won't leave with a dime\n[02:48.57] Motherfucker\n[02:57.69] Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n[02:58.48] I sleep whole winters\n[02:58.76] Wake up and spit summers\n[02:59.39] Ghetto nigga, putting up\n[03:00.44] Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n[03:02.33] Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n[03:02.72] Bitches among us\n[03:03.28] Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n[03:04.17] It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n[03:04.84] Now, bitches notice the chains\n[03:08.57] Now that I hit my number\n[03:10.46] The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n[03:11.65] See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n[03:14.00] The beeper done changed\n[03:15.26] Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n[03:16.92] I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n[03:18.17] 'Cause trust me, y'all could\n[03:20.03] Still feel the heat in the rain\n[03:22.19] I keep creepin', streets\n[03:23.21] Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n[03:24.05] Niggas is hotheads and\n[03:25.23] The bullets is heat-seeking\n[03:26.61] Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n[03:29.47] I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n[03:31.46] Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n[03:33.55] Where the sunroof used to be\n[03:35.22] I could see y'all not used to me\n[03:37.48] Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n[03:38.92] I'm the meanest, toughest\n[03:40.99] Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n[03:42.94] You the type to bust a lot of shots\n[03:44.82] And none touch you (Fuck)\n[03:47.07] I'm the type that get excited\n[03:48.20] When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n[03:49.91] Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n[03:52.81] (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n[03:54.52] (Grrrr)\n[03:56.62] I'm headed nowhere fast\n[03:58.20] Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n[03:59.69] Niggas wanted a taste\n[04:01.87] But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n[04:03.06] So what that mean?\n[04:04.14] You cats is playin' games again\n[04:05.12] So now what I do?\n[04:06.57] Start naming names again (What?)\n[04:08.42] All you motherfuckers know that\n[04:11.02] I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n[04:12.85] Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n[04:14.14] We can take it there, but to\n[04:15.51] Make it fair, get some more niggas\n[04:16.85] Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n[04:19.68] Like four niggas (Aight?)\n[04:21.43] Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n[04:22.47] It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n[04:23.75] That'll get you shot in your mouth\n[04:25.40] (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n[04:27.43] Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n[04:30.46] When it's smothered (What?)\n[04:31.57] It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n[04:33.25] Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n[04:34.27] Want it with the dog or the gun?\n[04:35.41] Let him choose (Come on)\n[04:37.18] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX;Jay-Z;L.O.X.\n  album: The Best Of DMX\n  duration_ms: 296202\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Jay\n  start_ms: 2220\n  end_ms: 3520\n- text: Fuck that\n  start_ms: 3520\n  end_ms: 5080\n- text: This is it, right here, baby\n  start_ms: 5080\n  end_ms: 7200\n- text: You know what it is\n  start_ms: 7200\n  end_ms: 10810\n- text: Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n  start_ms: 10810\n  end_ms: 12940\n- text: Might see me in a Jag' truck\n  start_ms: 12940\n  end_ms: 14670\n- text: Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  start_ms: 14670\n  end_ms: 18170\n- text: Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  start_ms: 18170\n  end_ms: 20600\n- text: .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  start_ms: 20600\n  end_ms: 22830\n- text: And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  start_ms: 22830\n  end_ms: 25490\n- text: '''Cause I walk around with'\n  start_ms: 25490\n  end_ms: 27090\n- text: Your whole advance on my wrist\n  start_ms: 27090\n  end_ms: 28560\n- text: Boning your women\n  start_ms: 28560\n  end_ms: 29840\n- text: Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  start_ms: 29840\n  end_ms: 30940\n- text: And you know I'm still writing the mean\n  start_ms: 30940\n  end_ms: 33050\n- text: Lighting the green I need the buggy\n  start_ms: 33050\n  end_ms: 34780\n- text: Even though I look right in the beam\n  start_ms: 34780\n  end_ms: 36450\n- text: Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  start_ms: 36450\n  end_ms: 38290\n- text: Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  start_ms: 38290\n  end_ms: 42090\n- text: We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  start_ms: 42090\n  end_ms: 45140\n- text: '''Cause them rednecks up in the'\n  start_ms: 45140\n  end_ms: 47560\n- text: Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n  start_ms: 47560\n  end_ms: 49100\n- text: Tell you what I want you to know\n  start_ms: 49100\n  end_ms: 51170\n- text: Fuck what you ask me\n  start_ms: 51170\n  end_ms: 52580\n- text: You probably don't want me to blow\n  start_ms: 52580\n  end_ms: 54520\n- text: I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  start_ms: 54520\n  end_ms: 56180\n- text: Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  start_ms: 56180\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61050\n- text: A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 61050\n  end_ms: 62550\n- text: And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  start_ms: 62550\n  end_ms: 66360\n- text: Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  start_ms: 66360\n  end_ms: 68670\n- text: And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  start_ms: 68670\n  end_ms: 70080\n- text: (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n  start_ms: 70080\n  end_ms: 71140\n- text: Yo, when my gun bust\n  start_ms: 71140\n  end_ms: 72780\n- text: Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  start_ms: 72780\n  end_ms: 74070\n- text: New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n  start_ms: 74070\n  end_ms: 75080\n- text: I put fear in y'all heads\n  start_ms: 75080\n  end_ms: 76340\n- text: Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  start_ms: 76340\n  end_ms: 78330\n- text: And that's warning\n  start_ms: 78330\n  end_ms: 79590\n- text: If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  start_ms: 79590\n  end_ms: 81660\n- text: Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n  start_ms: 81660\n  end_ms: 83330\n- text: Get what's rightfully mine\n  start_ms: 83330\n  end_ms: 85570\n- text: I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  start_ms: 85570\n  end_ms: 86830\n- text: I got niggas my pop's age\n  start_ms: 86830\n  end_ms: 88760\n- text: That lifestyle ain't changed\n  start_ms: 88760\n  end_ms: 91800\n- text: It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  start_ms: 91800\n  end_ms: 93180\n- text: Make car money, check with Sheek\n  start_ms: 93180\n  end_ms: 94440\n- text: Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n  start_ms: 94440\n  end_ms: 95660\n- text: I rock a waist-length mink\n  start_ms: 95660\n  end_ms: 97260\n- text: Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n  start_ms: 97260\n  end_ms: 99120\n- text: And I don't even want waves\n  start_ms: 99120\n  end_ms: 100300\n- text: Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n  start_ms: 100300\n  end_ms: 101230\n- text: That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n  start_ms: 101230\n  end_ms: 102720\n- text: I don't fuck with shoes\n  start_ms: 102720\n  end_ms: 103780\n- text: And for my nigga's life\n  start_ms: 103780\n  end_ms: 105420\n- text: I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  start_ms: 105420\n  end_ms: 106530\n- text: I put thirty in your head\n  start_ms: 106530\n  end_ms: 108140\n- text: All in the same hole\n  start_ms: 108140\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: '''Cause we got the same goal'\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 110990\n- text: And you try and tamper with mine?\n  start_ms: 110990\n  end_ms: 112500\n- text: Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n  start_ms: 112500\n  end_ms: 113990\n- text: You with some shit in your spine\n  start_ms: 113990\n  end_ms: 114970\n- text: Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n  start_ms: 114970\n  end_ms: 117770\n- text: Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n  start_ms: 117770\n  end_ms: 120730\n- text: I extorted your coke\n  start_ms: 120730\n  end_ms: 121740\n- text: '''Ju crazy? (Haha)'\n  start_ms: 121740\n  end_ms: 122540\n- text: Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n  start_ms: 122540\n  end_ms: 124030\n- text: In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  start_ms: 124030\n  end_ms: 129280\n- text: Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  start_ms: 129280\n  end_ms: 131890\n- text: Blow, stay on the low\n  start_ms: 131890\n  end_ms: 134510\n- text: Get a Heine' and swig\n  start_ms: 134510\n  end_ms: 135440\n- text: I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  start_ms: 135440\n  end_ms: 137610\n- text: I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n  start_ms: 137610\n  end_ms: 141180\n- text: The first was B.I.G\n  start_ms: 141180\n  end_ms: 141770\n- text: Y'all niggas is sonned out\n  start_ms: 141770\n  end_ms: 142680\n- text: Let me speak to your father\n  start_ms: 142680\n  end_ms: 143780\n- text: '''Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver'\n  start_ms: 143780\n  end_ms: 145430\n- text: If I don't like a nigga\n  start_ms: 145430\n  end_ms: 147800\n- text: I don't even be bothered\n  start_ms: 147800\n  end_ms: 150240\n- text: I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  start_ms: 150240\n  end_ms: 151310\n- text: You hold your nine if you\n  start_ms: 151310\n  end_ms: 152630\n- text: Holding a brick, common sense\n  start_ms: 152630\n  end_ms: 153640\n- text: Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  start_ms: 153640\n  end_ms: 154950\n- text: L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  start_ms: 154950\n  end_ms: 158540\n- text: Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  start_ms: 158540\n  end_ms: 160810\n- text: Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  start_ms: 160810\n  end_ms: 163470\n- text: I tell all my niggas ride\n  start_ms: 163470\n  end_ms: 165580\n- text: You won't leave with a dime\n  start_ms: 165580\n  end_ms: 168570\n- text: Motherfucker\n  start_ms: 168570\n  end_ms: 177690\n- text: Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n  start_ms: 177690\n  end_ms: 178480\n- text: I sleep whole winters\n  start_ms: 178480\n  end_ms: 178760\n- text: Wake up and spit summers\n  start_ms: 178760\n  end_ms: 179390\n- text: Ghetto nigga, putting up\n  start_ms: 179390\n  end_ms: 180440\n- text: Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 180440\n  end_ms: 182330\n- text: Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n  start_ms: 182330\n  end_ms: 182720\n- text: Bitches among us\n  start_ms: 182720\n  end_ms: 183280\n- text: Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  start_ms: 183280\n  end_ms: 184170\n- text: It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  start_ms: 184170\n  end_ms: 184840\n- text: Now, bitches notice the chains\n  start_ms: 184840\n  end_ms: 188570\n- text: Now that I hit my number\n  start_ms: 188570\n  end_ms: 190460\n- text: The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 190460\n  end_ms: 191650\n- text: See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 191650\n  end_ms: 194000\n- text: The beeper done changed\n  start_ms: 194000\n  end_ms: 195260\n- text: Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n  start_ms: 195260\n  end_ms: 196920\n- text: I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  start_ms: 196920\n  end_ms: 198170\n- text: '''Cause trust me, y''all could'\n  start_ms: 198170\n  end_ms: 200030\n- text: Still feel the heat in the rain\n  start_ms: 200030\n  end_ms: 202190\n- text: I keep creepin', streets\n  start_ms: 202190\n  end_ms: 203210\n- text: Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  start_ms: 203210\n  end_ms: 204050\n- text: Niggas is hotheads and\n  start_ms: 204050\n  end_ms: 205230\n- text: The bullets is heat-seeking\n  start_ms: 205230\n  end_ms: 206610\n- text: Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  start_ms: 206610\n  end_ms: 209470\n- text: I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  start_ms: 209470\n  end_ms: 211460\n- text: Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 211460\n  end_ms: 213550\n- text: Where the sunroof used to be\n  start_ms: 213550\n  end_ms: 215220\n- text: I could see y'all not used to me\n  start_ms: 215220\n  end_ms: 217480\n- text: Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 217480\n  end_ms: 218920\n- text: I'm the meanest, toughest\n  start_ms: 218920\n  end_ms: 220990\n- text: Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n  start_ms: 220990\n  end_ms: 222940\n- text: You the type to bust a lot of shots\n  start_ms: 222940\n  end_ms: 224820\n- text: And none touch you (Fuck)\n  start_ms: 224820\n  end_ms: 227070\n- text: I'm the type that get excited\n  start_ms: 227070\n  end_ms: 228200\n- text: When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 228200\n  end_ms: 229910\n- text: Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  start_ms: 229910\n  end_ms: 232810\n- text: (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n  start_ms: 232810\n  end_ms: 234520\n- text: (Grrrr)\n  start_ms: 234520\n  end_ms: 236620\n- text: I'm headed nowhere fast\n  start_ms: 236620\n  end_ms: 238200\n- text: Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n  start_ms: 238200\n  end_ms: 239690\n- text: Niggas wanted a taste\n  start_ms: 239690\n  end_ms: 241870\n- text: But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 241870\n  end_ms: 243060\n- text: So what that mean?\n  start_ms: 243060\n  end_ms: 244140\n- text: You cats is playin' games again\n  start_ms: 244140\n  end_ms: 245120\n- text: So now what I do?\n  start_ms: 245120\n  end_ms: 246570\n- text: Start naming names again (What?)\n  start_ms: 246570\n  end_ms: 248420\n- text: All you motherfuckers know that\n  start_ms: 248420\n  end_ms: 251020\n- text: I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 251020\n  end_ms: 252850\n- text: Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  start_ms: 252850\n  end_ms: 254140\n- text: We can take it there, but to\n  start_ms: 254140\n  end_ms: 255510\n- text: Make it fair, get some more niggas\n  start_ms: 255510\n  end_ms: 256850\n- text: Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n  start_ms: 256850\n  end_ms: 259680\n- text: Like four niggas (Aight?)\n  start_ms: 259680\n  end_ms: 261430\n- text: Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  start_ms: 261430\n  end_ms: 262470\n- text: It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  start_ms: 262470\n  end_ms: 263750\n- text: That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  start_ms: 263750\n  end_ms: 265400\n- text: (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 265400\n  end_ms: 267430\n- text: Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n  start_ms: 267430\n  end_ms: 270460\n- text: When it's smothered (What?)\n  start_ms: 270460\n  end_ms: 271570\n- text: It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n  start_ms: 271570\n  end_ms: 273250\n- text: Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n  start_ms: 273250\n  end_ms: 274270\n- text: Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  start_ms: 274270\n  end_ms: 275410\n- text: Let him choose (Come on)\n  start_ms: 275410\n  end_ms: 277180\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 277180\nplain: |-\n  Jay\n  Fuck that\n  This is it, right here, baby\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you\n  Might see me in a Jag' truck\n  Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with\n  Your whole advance on my wrist\n  Boning your women\n\n  Drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writing the mean\n  Lighting the green I need the buggy\n  Even though I look right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the\n\n  Mountains'll try to slay you Call me raspy\n  Tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me\n  You probably don't want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay thirty for the 'Kiss (Uh-huh)\n  A hundred for The LOX (Yeah)\n\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  (Uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\n  Yo, when my gun bust\n  Send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson\n  I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warning\n\n  If you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  Now, I suggest you hit the block and\n  Get what's rightfully mine\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggas my pop's age\n  That lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheek\n  Go fuck with a ho (Ha)\n  I rock a waist-length mink\n\n  Durag under my fitted (Style on these niggas)\n  And I don't even want waves\n  Timbs be halfway new (Huh?)\n  That's Sheek in the dress-up club cause\n  I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life\n\n  I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  I put thirty in your head\n  All in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal\n  And you try and tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave\n  You with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me, you be a \"Was nigga\", \"Nigga was dope\"\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore\n  I extorted your coke\n  'Ju crazy? (Haha)\n\n  Ayo, catch me with a .38, box of shells\n  In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  Blow, stay on the low\n  Get a Heine' and swig\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best\n  The first was B.I.G\n\n  Y'all niggas is sonned out\n  Let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n  If I don't like a nigga\n  I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  You hold your nine if you\n  Holding a brick, common sense\n  Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggas ride\n  You won't leave with a dime\n  Motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster\n  I sleep whole winters\n  Wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, putting up\n  Will Smith numbers (Ugh)\n  Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers\n  Bitches among us\n\n  Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  Now, bitches notice the chains\n  Now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted (Ugh)\n  See the digits unlisted (Yeah)\n  The beeper done changed\n  Your dead, bitch, the reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all could\n  Still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets\n  Keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggas is hotheads and\n  The bullets is heat-seeking\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell 'em jump through the top (Uh-huh)\n  Where the sunroof used to be\n  I could see y'all not used to me\n  Nigga, flows like none other (Ugh)\n  I'm the meanest, toughest\n  Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n\n  You the type to bust a lot of shots\n  And none touch you (Fuck)\n  I'm the type that get excited\n  When the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (Ugh)\n  Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  (Uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n  (Grrrr)\n  I'm headed nowhere fast\n  Running in place (Ugh), gun in my waist\n  Niggas wanted a taste\n  But wouldn't come to my face (Ugh)\n  So what that mean?\n  You cats is playin' games again\n\n  So now what I do?\n  Start naming names again (What?)\n  All you motherfuckers know that\n  I speak from the heart (Ugh)\n  Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to\n  Make it fair, get some more niggas\n\n  Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with\n  Like four niggas (Aight?)\n  Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  (Argh, argh) Got my dogs covered (Ugh)\n\n  Plus it's all gravy, like chicken\n  When it's smothered (What?)\n  It's dark and I love it (Ugh)\n  Get him, boy, let him loose (Come on)\n  Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  Let him choose (Come on)\n"},{"id":26270911,"name":"Blackout (feat. JAY-Z & The Lox)","trackName":"Blackout (feat. JAY-Z & The Lox)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"The Best of DMX","duration":296.184,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\nAnd I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nPhonin' your women, drunk off Corona's and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\nI need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nThey call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\nAiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\nI rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\nAiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of L's\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\nY'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\nI tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nI'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\nIt started from hunger, till it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the Reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top\nWhere the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\nY'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\nI'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\nNiggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\nAll you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\nPlay like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\nStyles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\nY'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\nYou want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout (feat. JAY-Z & The Lox)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: The Best of DMX\n  duration_ms: 296184\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n  38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\n  And I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Phonin' your women, drunk off Corona's and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\n  I need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  They call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\n  Aiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\n  I rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\n  Aiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of L's\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\n  Y'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\n  It started from hunger, till it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the Reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top\n  Where the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\n  I'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\n  Niggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\n  All you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\n  Play like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\n  Styles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\n  Y'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n  'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\n  You want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon\n"},{"id":31583086,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX Feat. Jay-Z & L.O.X.","albumName":"The Best Of DMX","duration":296.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay\nFuck that\nThis is it, right here, baby\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag' truck\nMasked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R tee with the matching bandana\n.38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\nAnd I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nBoning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writing the mean, lighting the green\n\nI need the buggy, even though I look right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nCall me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower, so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh), a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck (uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\nYo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warning, if you all alive in the morning, that's fine\nNow, I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n\nMake car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (ha)\nI rock a waist-length mink, durag under my fitted (style on these niggas)\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (huh?)\nThat's Sheek in the dress-up club, 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\nI put 30 in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal and you try and tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me, you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke\n'Ju crazy?\n\nAyo, catch me with a.38, box of shells\nIn a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of Ls\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G\nY'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess, and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\nYou hold your .9 if you holding a brick, common sense\nFed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\nL-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\nI tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah, I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters\nWake up and spit summers, ghetto nigga\nPutting up Will Smith numbers (ugh)\nSurrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\nTrying not to let this bullshit become us\nIt started from hunger 'til it all went insane\nNow, bitches notice the chains, now that I hit my number\n\nThe chickens I twisted (ugh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\nThe beeper done changed, your dead, bitch\nThe reaper done came, I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all could still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\n\nTell 'em jump through the top (uh-huh)\nWhere the sunroof used to be\nI could see y'all not used to me\nNigga, flows like none other (ugh)\nI'm the meanest, toughest, Don Dada to gun-butt ya\nYou the type to bust a lot of shots and none touch you (fuck)\nI'm the type that get excited when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (ugh)\nY'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other (uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n(Grrrr)\nI'm headed nowhere fast\nRunning in place (ugh), gun in my waist\nNiggas wanted a taste but wouldn't come to my face (ugh)\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start naming names again (what?)\nAll you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (ugh)\nPlay like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\nStyles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (a'ight?)\n\nY'all niggas best to stop playin'\nIt'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth\n(Argh, argh), got my dogs covered (ugh)\nPlus, it's all gravy, like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\nIt's dark and I love it (ugh)\nGet him, boy, let him loose (come on)\nWant it with the dog or the gun?\nLet him choose (come on)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX Feat. Jay-Z & L.O.X.\n  album: The Best Of DMX\n  duration_ms: 296000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Jay\n  Fuck that\n  This is it, right here, baby\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag' truck\n  Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writing the mean, lighting the green\n\n  I need the buggy, even though I look right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower, so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh), a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck (uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\n  Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warning, if you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  Now, I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n\n  Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (ha)\n  I rock a waist-length mink, durag under my fitted (style on these niggas)\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (huh?)\n  That's Sheek in the dress-up club, 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  I put 30 in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal and you try and tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me, you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke\n  'Ju crazy?\n\n  Ayo, catch me with a.38, box of shells\n  In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G\n  Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess, and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  You hold your .9 if you holding a brick, common sense\n  Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters\n  Wake up and spit summers, ghetto nigga\n  Putting up Will Smith numbers (ugh)\n  Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  Now, bitches notice the chains, now that I hit my number\n\n  The chickens I twisted (ugh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  The beeper done changed, your dead, bitch\n  The reaper done came, I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all could still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n\n  Tell 'em jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  Where the sunroof used to be\n  I could see y'all not used to me\n  Nigga, flows like none other (ugh)\n  I'm the meanest, toughest, Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n  You the type to bust a lot of shots and none touch you (fuck)\n  I'm the type that get excited when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (ugh)\n  Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other (uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n  (Grrrr)\n  I'm headed nowhere fast\n  Running in place (ugh), gun in my waist\n  Niggas wanted a taste but wouldn't come to my face (ugh)\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start naming names again (what?)\n  All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (ugh)\n  Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (a'ight?)\n\n  Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  (Argh, argh), got my dogs covered (ugh)\n  Plus, it's all gravy, like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  It's dark and I love it (ugh)\n  Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  Let him choose (come on)\n"},{"id":36569263,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX feat. JAY-Z, L.O.X.","albumName":"The Best Of DMX","duration":300.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay\nFuck that\nThis is it, right here, baby\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag' truck\nMasked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R tee with the matching bandana\n.38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\nAnd I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nBoning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writing the mean, lighting the green\n\nI need the buggy, even though I look right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nCall me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower, so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh), a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck (uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\nYo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warning, if you all alive in the morning, that's fine\nNow, I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n\nMake car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (ha)\nI rock a waist-length mink, durag under my fitted (style on these niggas)\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (huh?)\nThat's Sheek in the dress-up club, 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\nI put 30 in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal and you try and tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me, you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke\n'Ju crazy?\n\nAyo, catch me with a.38, box of shells\nIn a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of Ls\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G\nY'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess, and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\nYou hold your .9 if you holding a brick, common sense\nFed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\nL-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\nI tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah, I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters\nWake up and spit summers, ghetto nigga\nPutting up Will Smith numbers (ugh)\nSurrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\nTrying not to let this bullshit become us\nIt started from hunger 'til it all went insane\nNow, bitches notice the chains, now that I hit my number\n\nThe chickens I twisted (ugh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\nThe beeper done changed, your dead, bitch\nThe reaper done came, I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all could still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\n\nTell 'em jump through the top (uh-huh)\nWhere the sunroof used to be\nI could see y'all not used to me\nNigga, flows like none other (ugh)\nI'm the meanest, toughest, Don Dada to gun-butt ya\nYou the type to bust a lot of shots and none touch you (fuck)\nI'm the type that get excited when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (ugh)\nY'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other (uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n(Grrrr)\nI'm headed nowhere fast\nRunning in place (ugh), gun in my waist\nNiggas wanted a taste but wouldn't come to my face (ugh)\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start naming names again (what?)\nAll you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (ugh)\nPlay like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\nStyles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (a'ight?)\n\nY'all niggas best to stop playin'\nIt'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth\n(Argh, argh), got my dogs covered (ugh)\nPlus, it's all gravy, like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\nIt's dark and I love it (ugh)\nGet him, boy, let him loose (come on)\nWant it with the dog or the gun?\nLet him choose (come on)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX feat. JAY-Z, L.O.X.\n  album: The Best Of DMX\n  duration_ms: 300000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Jay\n  Fuck that\n  This is it, right here, baby\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag' truck\n  Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writing the mean, lighting the green\n\n  I need the buggy, even though I look right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower, so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh), a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck (uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n\n  Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warning, if you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  Now, I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n\n  Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (ha)\n  I rock a waist-length mink, durag under my fitted (style on these niggas)\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (huh?)\n  That's Sheek in the dress-up club, 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  I put 30 in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal and you try and tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me, you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke\n  'Ju crazy?\n\n  Ayo, catch me with a.38, box of shells\n  In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G\n  Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess, and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  You hold your .9 if you holding a brick, common sense\n  Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters\n  Wake up and spit summers, ghetto nigga\n  Putting up Will Smith numbers (ugh)\n  Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  Now, bitches notice the chains, now that I hit my number\n\n  The chickens I twisted (ugh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  The beeper done changed, your dead, bitch\n  The reaper done came, I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all could still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n\n  Tell 'em jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  Where the sunroof used to be\n  I could see y'all not used to me\n  Nigga, flows like none other (ugh)\n  I'm the meanest, toughest, Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n  You the type to bust a lot of shots and none touch you (fuck)\n  I'm the type that get excited when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (ugh)\n  Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other (uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n\n  (Grrrr)\n  I'm headed nowhere fast\n  Running in place (ugh), gun in my waist\n  Niggas wanted a taste but wouldn't come to my face (ugh)\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start naming names again (what?)\n  All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (ugh)\n  Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (a'ight?)\n\n  Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  (Argh, argh), got my dogs covered (ugh)\n  Plus, it's all gravy, like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  It's dark and I love it (ugh)\n  Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  Let him choose (come on)\n"},{"id":19856049,"name":"Blackout (feat. JAY-Z & L.O.X.)","trackName":"Blackout (feat. JAY-Z & L.O.X.)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"The Best Of DMX","duration":296.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\nAnd I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nPhonin' your women, drunk off Corona's and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\nI need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nThey call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\nAiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\nI rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\nAiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of L's\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\nY'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\nI tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nI'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\nIt started from hunger, till it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the Reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top\nWhere the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\nY'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\nI'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\nNiggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\nAll you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\nPlay like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\nStyles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\nY'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\nYou want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout (feat. JAY-Z & L.O.X.)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: The Best Of DMX\n  duration_ms: 296000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n  38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\n  And I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Phonin' your women, drunk off Corona's and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\n  I need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  They call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\n  Aiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\n  I rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\n  Aiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of L's\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\n  Y'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\n  It started from hunger, till it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the Reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top\n  Where the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\n  I'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\n  Niggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\n  All you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\n  Play like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\n  Styles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\n  Y'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n  'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\n  You want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon\n"},{"id":1445247,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"Flesh_Of_My_Flesh","duration":300.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\nAnd I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nPhonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\nI need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nThey call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\nAiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\nI rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\nAiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of L's\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\nY'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\nI tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\nIt started from hunger, till it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top\nWhere the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\nY'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\nI'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\nNiggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\nAll you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\nPlay like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\nStyles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\nY'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\nYou want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.03] Jay\n[00:02.82] Fuck that\n[00:04.23] This is it, right here, baby\n[00:06.21] You know what it is\n[00:09.84] Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag' truck\n[00:14.48] Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n[00:17.10] Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n[00:20.18] .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n[00:22.58] And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n[00:25.25] 'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n[00:28.04] Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n[00:30.69] And you know I'm still writing the mean, lighting the green\n[00:33.54] I need the buggy, even though I look right in the beam\n[00:36.41] Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n[00:39.09] Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n[00:41.85] We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n[00:44.92] 'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n[00:47.62] Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n[00:50.14] Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n[00:53.28] I got a lot of horsepower, so I'm able to skip\n[00:55.94] Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n[00:58.78] You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh), a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n[01:01.84] And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n[01:04.64] Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n[01:07.99] And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck (uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n[01:09.99] Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n[01:13.05] New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n[01:15.84] Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n[01:18.31] And that's warning, if you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n[01:21.43] Now, I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n[01:24.06] I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n[01:26.85] I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n[01:29.55] It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n[01:32.40] Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (ha)\n[01:35.36] I rock a waist-length mink, durag under my fitted (style on these niggas)\n[01:38.00] And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (huh?)\n[01:40.89] That's Sheek in the dress-up club, 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n[01:43.76] And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n[01:46.58] I put 30 in your head, all in the same hole\n[01:49.47] 'Cause we got the same goal and you try and tamper with mine?\n[01:52.02] Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n[01:54.92] Fuck with me, you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n[01:57.77] Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke\n[02:00.66] 'Ju crazy?\n[02:03.14] Ayo, catch me with a.38, box of shells\n[02:06.06] In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n[02:09.01] Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n[02:11.86] Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n[02:14.49] I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n[02:17.36] I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G\n[02:20.05] Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n[02:22.94] 'Cause I like to play chess, and I swing the revolver\n[02:25.65] If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n[02:28.60] I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n[02:31.18] You hold your .9 if you holding a brick, common sense\n[02:34.14] Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n[02:36.99] L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n[02:40.03] Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n[02:42.58] Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n[02:45.41] I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n[02:50.46] Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters\n[02:54.05] Wake up and spit summers, ghetto nigga\n[02:56.56] Putting up Will Smith numbers (ugh)\n[02:58.22] Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n[03:01.25] Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n[03:04.13] It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n[03:06.22] Now, bitches notice the chains, now that I hit my number\n[03:09.44] The chickens I twisted (ugh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n[03:12.40] The beeper done changed, your dead, bitch\n[03:14.50] The reaper done came, I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n[03:17.71] 'Cause trust me, y'all could still feel the heat in the rain\n[03:20.42] I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n[03:23.53] Niggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking\n[03:26.39] Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n[03:29.48] I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n[03:31.77] Tell 'em jump through the top (uh-huh)\n[03:33.35] Where the sunroof used to be\n[03:35.20] I could see y'all not used to me\n[03:37.33] Nigga, flows like none other (ugh)\n[03:39.14] I'm the meanest, toughest, Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n[03:42.96] You the type to bust a lot of shots and none touch you (fuck)\n[03:45.59] I'm the type that get excited when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (ugh)\n[03:50.48] Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other (uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n[03:54.50] (Grrrr)\n[03:55.99] I'm headed nowhere fast\n[03:57.76] Running in place (ugh), gun in my waist\n[03:59.64] Niggas wanted a taste but wouldn't come to my face (ugh)\n[04:02.39] So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n[04:05.09] So now what I do? Start naming names again (what?)\n[04:08.13] All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (ugh)\n[04:11.20] Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n[04:13.96] We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n[04:16.89] Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (a'ight?)\n[04:19.77] Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n[04:21.39] It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n[04:23.24] That'll get you shot in your mouth\n[04:24.80] (Argh, argh), got my dogs covered (ugh)\n[04:27.41] Plus, it's all gravy, like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n[04:30.19] It's dark and I love it (ugh)\n[04:31.61] Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n[04:33.43] Want it with the dog or the gun?\n[04:35.30] Let him choose (come on)\n[05:00.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX\n  album: Flesh_Of_My_Flesh\n  duration_ms: 300000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Jay\n  start_ms: 1030\n  end_ms: 2820\n- text: Fuck that\n  start_ms: 2820\n  end_ms: 4230\n- text: This is it, right here, baby\n  start_ms: 4230\n  end_ms: 6210\n- text: You know what it is\n  start_ms: 6210\n  end_ms: 9840\n- text: Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag' truck\n  start_ms: 9840\n  end_ms: 14480\n- text: Masked up, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  start_ms: 14480\n  end_ms: 17100\n- text: Double-R tee with the matching bandana\n  start_ms: 17100\n  end_ms: 20180\n- text: .38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  start_ms: 20180\n  end_ms: 22580\n- text: And I see y'all niggas tryna glance at the 'Kiss\n  start_ms: 22580\n  end_ms: 25250\n- text: '''Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist'\n  start_ms: 25250\n  end_ms: 28040\n- text: Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  start_ms: 28040\n  end_ms: 30690\n- text: And you know I'm still writing the mean, lighting the green\n  start_ms: 30690\n  end_ms: 33540\n- text: I need the buggy, even though I look right in the beam\n  start_ms: 33540\n  end_ms: 36410\n- text: Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  start_ms: 36410\n  end_ms: 39090\n- text: Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  start_ms: 39090\n  end_ms: 41850\n- text: We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n  start_ms: 41850\n  end_ms: 44920\n- text: '''Cause them rednecks up in the mountains''ll try to slay you'\n  start_ms: 44920\n  end_ms: 47620\n- text: Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  start_ms: 47620\n  end_ms: 50140\n- text: Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  start_ms: 50140\n  end_ms: 53280\n- text: I got a lot of horsepower, so I'm able to skip\n  start_ms: 53280\n  end_ms: 55940\n- text: Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  start_ms: 55940\n  end_ms: 58780\n- text: You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh), a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  start_ms: 58780\n  end_ms: 61840\n- text: And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  start_ms: 61840\n  end_ms: 64640\n- text: Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  start_ms: 64640\n  end_ms: 67990\n- text: And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck (uh-huh, yeah, ayo)\n  start_ms: 67990\n  end_ms: 69990\n- text: Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  start_ms: 69990\n  end_ms: 73050\n- text: New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  start_ms: 73050\n  end_ms: 75840\n- text: Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  start_ms: 75840\n  end_ms: 78310\n- text: And that's warning, if you all alive in the morning, that's fine\n  start_ms: 78310\n  end_ms: 81430\n- text: Now, I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  start_ms: 81430\n  end_ms: 84060\n- text: I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  start_ms: 84060\n  end_ms: 86850\n- text: I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  start_ms: 86850\n  end_ms: 89550\n- text: It's like, wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  start_ms: 89550\n  end_ms: 92400\n- text: Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho (ha)\n  start_ms: 92400\n  end_ms: 95360\n- text: I rock a waist-length mink, durag under my fitted (style on these niggas)\n  start_ms: 95360\n  end_ms: 98000\n- text: And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new (huh?)\n  start_ms: 98000\n  end_ms: 100890\n- text: That's Sheek in the dress-up club, 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  start_ms: 100890\n  end_ms: 103760\n- text: And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  start_ms: 103760\n  end_ms: 106580\n- text: I put 30 in your head, all in the same hole\n  start_ms: 106580\n  end_ms: 109470\n- text: '''Cause we got the same goal and you try and tamper with mine?'\n  start_ms: 109470\n  end_ms: 112020\n- text: Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  start_ms: 112020\n  end_ms: 114920\n- text: Fuck with me, you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  start_ms: 114920\n  end_ms: 117770\n- text: Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke\n  start_ms: 117770\n  end_ms: 120660\n- text: '''Ju crazy?'\n  start_ms: 120660\n  end_ms: 123140\n- text: Ayo, catch me with a.38, box of shells\n  start_ms: 123140\n  end_ms: 126060\n- text: In a '98 Lincoln, eatin' pasta shells\n  start_ms: 126060\n  end_ms: 129010\n- text: Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  start_ms: 129010\n  end_ms: 131860\n- text: Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  start_ms: 131860\n  end_ms: 134490\n- text: I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  start_ms: 134490\n  end_ms: 137360\n- text: I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G\n  start_ms: 137360\n  end_ms: 140050\n- text: Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  start_ms: 140050\n  end_ms: 142940\n- text: '''Cause I like to play chess, and I swing the revolver'\n  start_ms: 142940\n  end_ms: 145650\n- text: If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  start_ms: 145650\n  end_ms: 148600\n- text: I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga going legit\n  start_ms: 148600\n  end_ms: 151180\n- text: You hold your .9 if you holding a brick, common sense\n  start_ms: 151180\n  end_ms: 154140\n- text: Fed' drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  start_ms: 154140\n  end_ms: 156990\n- text: L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  start_ms: 156990\n  end_ms: 160030\n- text: Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  start_ms: 160030\n  end_ms: 162580\n- text: Thirsty to live, oh, y'all niggas eager to die?\n  start_ms: 162580\n  end_ms: 165410\n- text: I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n  start_ms: 165410\n  end_ms: 170460\n- text: Yeah, yeah, I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters\n  start_ms: 170460\n  end_ms: 174050\n- text: Wake up and spit summers, ghetto nigga\n  start_ms: 174050\n  end_ms: 176560\n- text: Putting up Will Smith numbers (ugh)\n  start_ms: 176560\n  end_ms: 178220\n- text: Surrounded by Sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  start_ms: 178220\n  end_ms: 181250\n- text: Trying not to let this bullshit become us\n  start_ms: 181250\n  end_ms: 184130\n- text: It started from hunger 'til it all went insane\n  start_ms: 184130\n  end_ms: 186220\n- text: Now, bitches notice the chains, now that I hit my number\n  start_ms: 186220\n  end_ms: 189440\n- text: The chickens I twisted (ugh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  start_ms: 189440\n  end_ms: 192400\n- text: The beeper done changed, your dead, bitch\n  start_ms: 192400\n  end_ms: 194500\n- text: The reaper done came, I suggest niggas stop speaking my name\n  start_ms: 194500\n  end_ms: 197710\n- text: '''Cause trust me, y''all could still feel the heat in the rain'\n  start_ms: 197710\n  end_ms: 200420\n- text: I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  start_ms: 200420\n  end_ms: 203530\n- text: Niggas is hotheads and the bullets is heat-seeking\n  start_ms: 203530\n  end_ms: 206390\n- text: Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  start_ms: 206390\n  end_ms: 209480\n- text: I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  start_ms: 209480\n  end_ms: 211770\n- text: Tell 'em jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 211770\n  end_ms: 213350\n- text: Where the sunroof used to be\n  start_ms: 213350\n  end_ms: 215200\n- text: I could see y'all not used to me\n  start_ms: 215200\n  end_ms: 217330\n- text: Nigga, flows like none other (ugh)\n  start_ms: 217330\n  end_ms: 219140\n- text: I'm the meanest, toughest, Don Dada to gun-butt ya\n  start_ms: 219140\n  end_ms: 222960\n- text: You the type to bust a lot of shots and none touch you (fuck)\n  start_ms: 222960\n  end_ms: 225590\n- text: I'm the type that get excited when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers (ugh)\n  start_ms: 225590\n  end_ms: 230480\n- text: Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other (uh-huh-uh-huh-uh)\n  start_ms: 230480\n  end_ms: 234500\n- text: (Grrrr)\n  start_ms: 234500\n  end_ms: 235990\n- text: I'm headed nowhere fast\n  start_ms: 235990\n  end_ms: 237760\n- text: Running in place (ugh), gun in my waist\n  start_ms: 237760\n  end_ms: 239640\n- text: Niggas wanted a taste but wouldn't come to my face (ugh)\n  start_ms: 239640\n  end_ms: 242390\n- text: So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  start_ms: 242390\n  end_ms: 245090\n- text: So now what I do? Start naming names again (what?)\n  start_ms: 245090\n  end_ms: 248130\n- text: All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (ugh)\n  start_ms: 248130\n  end_ms: 251200\n- text: Play like you don't know, L-O-X is gon' bark\n  start_ms: 251200\n  end_ms: 253960\n- text: We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  start_ms: 253960\n  end_ms: 256890\n- text: Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (a'ight?)\n  start_ms: 256890\n  end_ms: 259770\n- text: Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  start_ms: 259770\n  end_ms: 261390\n- text: It'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  start_ms: 261390\n  end_ms: 263240\n- text: That'll get you shot in your mouth\n  start_ms: 263240\n  end_ms: 264800\n- text: (Argh, argh), got my dogs covered (ugh)\n  start_ms: 264800\n  end_ms: 267410\n- text: Plus, it's all gravy, like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  start_ms: 267410\n  end_ms: 270190\n- text: It's dark and I love it (ugh)\n  start_ms: 270190\n  end_ms: 271610\n- text: Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  start_ms: 271610\n  end_ms: 273430\n- text: Want it with the dog or the gun?\n  start_ms: 273430\n  end_ms: 275300\n- text: Let him choose (come on)\n  start_ms: 275300\n  end_ms: 300230\nplain: |-\n  Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n  38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\n  And I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Phonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\n  I need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  They call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\n  Aiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\n  I rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\n  Aiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of L's\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\n  Y'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\n  It started from hunger, till it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top\n  Where the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\n  I'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\n  Niggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\n  All you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\n  Play like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\n  Styles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\n  Y'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n  'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\n  You want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon\n"},{"id":1445246,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"Flesh of My Flesh, Blood of My Blood","duration":300.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay\nFuck that\nThis is it right here, baby\nYou know what it is\nYo, I used to have bad luck\nNow you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\nAnd I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nBoning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\nI need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nCall me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\nYo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\nI rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\nAyo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of Ls\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\nY'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\nL-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\nI tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\nMotherfucker\nYeah, yeah\nI'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\nIt started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\nI suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\nWhere the sun roof used to be\nI could see y'all not used to me\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\nY'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\nGrr\nI'm headed nowhere fast\nRun in the place (uh), gat in my waist\nNiggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\nAll you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\nPlay like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\nStyles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\nY'all niggas best to stop playin'\nIt'll be the ones you've forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\nGot my dogs covered (uh)\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\nIt's dark and I love it (uh)\nGet him, boy, let him loose (come on)\nYou want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.67] Jay\n[00:02.43] Fuck that\n[00:03.81] This is it right here, baby\n[00:06.04] You know what it is\n[00:09.20] Yo, I used to have bad luck\n[00:11.86] Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n[00:13.83] Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n[00:16.51] Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n[00:19.37] 38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n[00:22.01] And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n[00:24.82] 'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n[00:27.55] Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n[00:30.49] And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n[00:33.46] I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n[00:36.13] Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n[00:38.91] Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n[00:41.77] We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n[00:44.87] 'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n[00:47.47] Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n[00:49.99] Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n[00:52.91] I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n[00:55.56] Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n[00:58.48] You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n[01:01.34] And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n[01:03.94] Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n[01:07.56] And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n[01:09.74] Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n[01:12.36] New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n[01:15.48] Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n[01:18.11] And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n[01:20.89] Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n[01:23.66] I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n[01:26.54] I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n[01:29.43] It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n[01:32.17] Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n[01:35.07] I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n[01:37.81] And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n[01:40.65] That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n[01:43.41] And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n[01:46.06] I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n[01:48.86] 'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\n[01:52.03] Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n[01:54.53] Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n[01:57.46] Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n[02:02.55] Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n[02:05.69] In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n[02:08.41] Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n[02:11.33] Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n[02:13.99] I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n[02:16.79] I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n[02:19.59] Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n[02:22.48] 'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n[02:25.25] If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n[02:28.09] I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n[02:30.72] You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n[02:33.07] Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n[02:36.67] L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n[02:39.42] Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n[02:42.12] Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n[02:44.86] I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n[02:47.71] Motherfucker\n[02:49.85] Yeah, yeah\n[02:51.17] I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n[02:54.86] Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n[02:57.74] Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n[03:00.61] Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n[03:03.23] It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n[03:05.95] Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n[03:08.67] The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n[03:11.69] The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n[03:15.24] I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n[03:17.24] 'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n[03:20.18] I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n[03:23.06] Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n[03:25.64] Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n[03:28.87] I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n[03:31.15] Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n[03:32.92] Where the sun roof used to be\n[03:34.58] I could see y'all not used to me\n[03:36.53] Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n[03:39.69] Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n[03:42.08] You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n[03:45.11] I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n[03:49.65] Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n[03:54.05] Grr\n[03:55.58] I'm headed nowhere fast\n[03:57.00] Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n[03:59.03] Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n[04:01.75] So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n[04:04.50] So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n[04:07.75] All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n[04:10.53] Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n[04:13.35] We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n[04:16.42] Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n[04:18.99] Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n[04:21.22] It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n[04:22.98] That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n[04:25.65] Got my dogs covered (uh)\n[04:26.96] Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n[04:29.49] It's dark and I love it (uh)\n[04:30.96] Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n[04:33.13] You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX\n  album: Flesh of My Flesh, Blood of My Blood\n  duration_ms: 300000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Jay\n  start_ms: 670\n  end_ms: 2430\n- text: Fuck that\n  start_ms: 2430\n  end_ms: 3810\n- text: This is it right here, baby\n  start_ms: 3810\n  end_ms: 6040\n- text: You know what it is\n  start_ms: 6040\n  end_ms: 9200\n- text: Yo, I used to have bad luck\n  start_ms: 9200\n  end_ms: 11860\n- text: Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  start_ms: 11860\n  end_ms: 13830\n- text: Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  start_ms: 13830\n  end_ms: 16510\n- text: Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n  start_ms: 16510\n  end_ms: 19370\n- text: 38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  start_ms: 19370\n  end_ms: 22010\n- text: And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  start_ms: 22010\n  end_ms: 24820\n- text: '''Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist'\n  start_ms: 24820\n  end_ms: 27550\n- text: Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  start_ms: 27550\n  end_ms: 30490\n- text: And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n  start_ms: 30490\n  end_ms: 33460\n- text: I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n  start_ms: 33460\n  end_ms: 36130\n- text: Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  start_ms: 36130\n  end_ms: 38910\n- text: Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  start_ms: 38910\n  end_ms: 41770\n- text: We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n  start_ms: 41770\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: '''Cause them rednecks up in the mountains''ll try to slay you'\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 47470\n- text: Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  start_ms: 47470\n  end_ms: 49990\n- text: Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  start_ms: 49990\n  end_ms: 52910\n- text: I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  start_ms: 52910\n  end_ms: 55560\n- text: Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  start_ms: 55560\n  end_ms: 58480\n- text: You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  start_ms: 58480\n  end_ms: 61340\n- text: And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  start_ms: 61340\n  end_ms: 63940\n- text: Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  start_ms: 63940\n  end_ms: 67560\n- text: And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  start_ms: 67560\n  end_ms: 69740\n- text: Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  start_ms: 69740\n  end_ms: 72360\n- text: New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  start_ms: 72360\n  end_ms: 75480\n- text: Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  start_ms: 75480\n  end_ms: 78110\n- text: And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  start_ms: 78110\n  end_ms: 80890\n- text: Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  start_ms: 80890\n  end_ms: 83660\n- text: I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  start_ms: 83660\n  end_ms: 86540\n- text: I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  start_ms: 86540\n  end_ms: 89430\n- text: It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  start_ms: 89430\n  end_ms: 92170\n- text: Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n  start_ms: 92170\n  end_ms: 95070\n- text: I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  start_ms: 95070\n  end_ms: 97810\n- text: And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  start_ms: 97810\n  end_ms: 100650\n- text: That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  start_ms: 100650\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 106060\n- text: I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  start_ms: 106060\n  end_ms: 108860\n- text: '''Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?'\n  start_ms: 108860\n  end_ms: 112030\n- text: Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  start_ms: 112030\n  end_ms: 114530\n- text: Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n  start_ms: 114530\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 122550\n- text: Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n  start_ms: 122550\n  end_ms: 125690\n- text: In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  start_ms: 125690\n  end_ms: 128410\n- text: Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  start_ms: 128410\n  end_ms: 131330\n- text: Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  start_ms: 131330\n  end_ms: 133990\n- text: I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  start_ms: 133990\n  end_ms: 136790\n- text: I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n  start_ms: 136790\n  end_ms: 139590\n- text: Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  start_ms: 139590\n  end_ms: 142480\n- text: '''Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver'\n  start_ms: 142480\n  end_ms: 145250\n- text: If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  start_ms: 145250\n  end_ms: 148090\n- text: I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  start_ms: 148090\n  end_ms: 150720\n- text: You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  start_ms: 150720\n  end_ms: 153070\n- text: Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  start_ms: 153070\n  end_ms: 156670\n- text: L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  start_ms: 156670\n  end_ms: 159420\n- text: Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  start_ms: 159420\n  end_ms: 162120\n- text: Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n  start_ms: 162120\n  end_ms: 164860\n- text: I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n  start_ms: 164860\n  end_ms: 167710\n- text: Motherfucker\n  start_ms: 167710\n  end_ms: 169850\n- text: Yeah, yeah\n  start_ms: 169850\n  end_ms: 171170\n- text: I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  start_ms: 171170\n  end_ms: 174860\n- text: Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  start_ms: 174860\n  end_ms: 177740\n- text: Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  start_ms: 177740\n  end_ms: 180610\n- text: Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n  start_ms: 180610\n  end_ms: 183230\n- text: It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n  start_ms: 183230\n  end_ms: 185950\n- text: Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  start_ms: 185950\n  end_ms: 188670\n- text: The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  start_ms: 188670\n  end_ms: 191690\n- text: The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n  start_ms: 191690\n  end_ms: 195240\n- text: I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n  start_ms: 195240\n  end_ms: 197240\n- text: '''Cause trust me, y''all can still feel the heat in the rain'\n  start_ms: 197240\n  end_ms: 200180\n- text: I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  start_ms: 200180\n  end_ms: 203060\n- text: Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n  start_ms: 203060\n  end_ms: 205640\n- text: Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  start_ms: 205640\n  end_ms: 208870\n- text: I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  start_ms: 208870\n  end_ms: 211150\n- text: Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 211150\n  end_ms: 212920\n- text: Where the sun roof used to be\n  start_ms: 212920\n  end_ms: 214580\n- text: I could see y'all not used to me\n  start_ms: 214580\n  end_ms: 216530\n- text: Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  start_ms: 216530\n  end_ms: 219690\n- text: Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n  start_ms: 219690\n  end_ms: 222080\n- text: You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  start_ms: 222080\n  end_ms: 225110\n- text: I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 225110\n  end_ms: 229650\n- text: Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  start_ms: 229650\n  end_ms: 234050\n- text: Grr\n  start_ms: 234050\n  end_ms: 235580\n- text: I'm headed nowhere fast\n  start_ms: 235580\n  end_ms: 237000\n- text: Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n  start_ms: 237000\n  end_ms: 239030\n- text: Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n  start_ms: 239030\n  end_ms: 241750\n- text: So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  start_ms: 241750\n  end_ms: 244500\n- text: So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n  start_ms: 244500\n  end_ms: 247750\n- text: All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n  start_ms: 247750\n  end_ms: 250530\n- text: Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n  start_ms: 250530\n  end_ms: 253350\n- text: We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  start_ms: 253350\n  end_ms: 256420\n- text: Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n  start_ms: 256420\n  end_ms: 258990\n- text: Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  start_ms: 258990\n  end_ms: 261220\n- text: It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n  start_ms: 261220\n  end_ms: 262980\n- text: That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n  start_ms: 262980\n  end_ms: 265650\n- text: Got my dogs covered (uh)\n  start_ms: 265650\n  end_ms: 266960\n- text: Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  start_ms: 266960\n  end_ms: 269490\n- text: It's dark and I love it (uh)\n  start_ms: 269490\n  end_ms: 270960\n- text: Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  start_ms: 270960\n  end_ms: 273130\n- text: You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)\n  start_ms: 273130\nplain: |-\n  Jay\n  Fuck that\n  This is it right here, baby\n  You know what it is\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck\n  Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n  38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n  I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n  I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n  Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n  Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n  Motherfucker\n  Yeah, yeah\n  I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n  It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n  I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  Where the sun roof used to be\n  I could see y'all not used to me\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  Grr\n  I'm headed nowhere fast\n  Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n  Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n  All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n  Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n  Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n  Got my dogs covered (uh)\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  It's dark and I love it (uh)\n  Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)\n"},{"id":30330194,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"Flesh of My Flesh, Blood of My Blood","duration":281.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay\nFuck that\nThis is it right here, baby\nYou know what it is\nYo, I used to have bad luck\nNow you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\nAnd I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nBoning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\nI need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nCall me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\nYo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\nI rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\nAyo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of Ls\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\nY'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\nL-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\nI tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\nMotherfucker\nYeah, yeah\nI'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\nIt started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\nI suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\nWhere the sun roof used to be\nI could see y'all not used to me\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\nY'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\nGrr\nI'm headed nowhere fast\nRun in the place (uh), gat in my waist\nNiggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\nAll you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\nPlay like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\nStyles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\nY'all niggas best to stop playin'\nIt'll be the ones you've forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\nGot my dogs covered (uh)\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\nIt's dark and I love it (uh)\nGet him, boy, let him loose (come on)\nYou want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.67] Jay\n[00:02.43] Fuck that\n[00:03.81] This is it right here, baby\n[00:06.04] You know what it is\n[00:09.20] Yo, I used to have bad luck\n[00:11.86] Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n[00:13.83] Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n[00:16.51] Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n[00:19.37] 38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n[00:22.01] And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n[00:24.82] 'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n[00:27.55] Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n[00:30.49] And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n[00:33.46] I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n[00:36.13] Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n[00:38.91] Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n[00:41.77] We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n[00:44.87] 'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n[00:47.47] Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n[00:49.99] Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n[00:52.91] I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n[00:55.56] Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n[00:58.48] You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n[01:01.34] And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n[01:03.94] Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n[01:07.56] And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n[01:09.74] Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n[01:12.36] New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n[01:15.48] Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n[01:18.11] And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n[01:20.89] Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n[01:23.66] I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n[01:26.54] I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n[01:29.43] It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n[01:32.17] Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n[01:35.07] I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n[01:37.81] And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n[01:40.65] That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n[01:43.41] And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n[01:46.06] I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n[01:48.86] 'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\n[01:52.03] Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n[01:54.53] Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n[01:57.46] Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n[02:02.55] Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n[02:05.69] In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n[02:08.41] Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n[02:11.33] Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n[02:13.99] I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n[02:16.79] I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n[02:19.59] Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n[02:22.48] 'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n[02:25.25] If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n[02:28.09] I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n[02:30.72] You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n[02:33.07] Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n[02:36.67] L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n[02:39.42] Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n[02:42.12] Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n[02:44.86] I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n[02:47.71] Motherfucker\n[02:49.85] Yeah, yeah\n[02:51.17] I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n[02:54.86] Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n[02:57.74] Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n[03:00.61] Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n[03:03.23] It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n[03:05.95] Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n[03:08.67] The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n[03:11.69] The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n[03:15.24] I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n[03:17.24] 'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n[03:20.18] I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n[03:23.06] Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n[03:25.64] Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n[03:28.87] I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n[03:31.15] Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n[03:32.92] Where the sun roof used to be\n[03:34.58] I could see y'all not used to me\n[03:36.53] Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n[03:39.69] Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n[03:42.08] You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n[03:45.11] I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n[03:49.65] Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n[03:54.05] Grr\n[03:55.58] I'm headed nowhere fast\n[03:57.00] Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n[03:59.03] Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n[04:01.75] So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n[04:04.50] So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n[04:07.75] All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n[04:10.53] Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n[04:13.35] We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n[04:16.42] Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n[04:18.99] Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n[04:21.22] It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n[04:22.98] That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n[04:25.65] Got my dogs covered (uh)\n[04:26.96] Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n[04:29.49] It's dark and I love it (uh)\n[04:30.96] Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n[04:33.13] You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX\n  album: Flesh of My Flesh, Blood of My Blood\n  duration_ms: 281000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Jay\n  start_ms: 670\n  end_ms: 2430\n- text: Fuck that\n  start_ms: 2430\n  end_ms: 3810\n- text: This is it right here, baby\n  start_ms: 3810\n  end_ms: 6040\n- text: You know what it is\n  start_ms: 6040\n  end_ms: 9200\n- text: Yo, I used to have bad luck\n  start_ms: 9200\n  end_ms: 11860\n- text: Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  start_ms: 11860\n  end_ms: 13830\n- text: Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  start_ms: 13830\n  end_ms: 16510\n- text: Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n  start_ms: 16510\n  end_ms: 19370\n- text: 38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  start_ms: 19370\n  end_ms: 22010\n- text: And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  start_ms: 22010\n  end_ms: 24820\n- text: '''Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist'\n  start_ms: 24820\n  end_ms: 27550\n- text: Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  start_ms: 27550\n  end_ms: 30490\n- text: And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n  start_ms: 30490\n  end_ms: 33460\n- text: I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n  start_ms: 33460\n  end_ms: 36130\n- text: Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  start_ms: 36130\n  end_ms: 38910\n- text: Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  start_ms: 38910\n  end_ms: 41770\n- text: We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n  start_ms: 41770\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: '''Cause them rednecks up in the mountains''ll try to slay you'\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 47470\n- text: Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  start_ms: 47470\n  end_ms: 49990\n- text: Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  start_ms: 49990\n  end_ms: 52910\n- text: I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  start_ms: 52910\n  end_ms: 55560\n- text: Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  start_ms: 55560\n  end_ms: 58480\n- text: You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  start_ms: 58480\n  end_ms: 61340\n- text: And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  start_ms: 61340\n  end_ms: 63940\n- text: Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  start_ms: 63940\n  end_ms: 67560\n- text: And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  start_ms: 67560\n  end_ms: 69740\n- text: Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  start_ms: 69740\n  end_ms: 72360\n- text: New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  start_ms: 72360\n  end_ms: 75480\n- text: Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  start_ms: 75480\n  end_ms: 78110\n- text: And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  start_ms: 78110\n  end_ms: 80890\n- text: Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  start_ms: 80890\n  end_ms: 83660\n- text: I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  start_ms: 83660\n  end_ms: 86540\n- text: I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  start_ms: 86540\n  end_ms: 89430\n- text: It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  start_ms: 89430\n  end_ms: 92170\n- text: Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n  start_ms: 92170\n  end_ms: 95070\n- text: I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  start_ms: 95070\n  end_ms: 97810\n- text: And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  start_ms: 97810\n  end_ms: 100650\n- text: That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  start_ms: 100650\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 106060\n- text: I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  start_ms: 106060\n  end_ms: 108860\n- text: '''Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?'\n  start_ms: 108860\n  end_ms: 112030\n- text: Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  start_ms: 112030\n  end_ms: 114530\n- text: Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n  start_ms: 114530\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 122550\n- text: Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n  start_ms: 122550\n  end_ms: 125690\n- text: In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  start_ms: 125690\n  end_ms: 128410\n- text: Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  start_ms: 128410\n  end_ms: 131330\n- text: Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  start_ms: 131330\n  end_ms: 133990\n- text: I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  start_ms: 133990\n  end_ms: 136790\n- text: I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n  start_ms: 136790\n  end_ms: 139590\n- text: Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  start_ms: 139590\n  end_ms: 142480\n- text: '''Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver'\n  start_ms: 142480\n  end_ms: 145250\n- text: If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  start_ms: 145250\n  end_ms: 148090\n- text: I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  start_ms: 148090\n  end_ms: 150720\n- text: You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  start_ms: 150720\n  end_ms: 153070\n- text: Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  start_ms: 153070\n  end_ms: 156670\n- text: L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  start_ms: 156670\n  end_ms: 159420\n- text: Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  start_ms: 159420\n  end_ms: 162120\n- text: Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n  start_ms: 162120\n  end_ms: 164860\n- text: I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n  start_ms: 164860\n  end_ms: 167710\n- text: Motherfucker\n  start_ms: 167710\n  end_ms: 169850\n- text: Yeah, yeah\n  start_ms: 169850\n  end_ms: 171170\n- text: I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  start_ms: 171170\n  end_ms: 174860\n- text: Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  start_ms: 174860\n  end_ms: 177740\n- text: Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  start_ms: 177740\n  end_ms: 180610\n- text: Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n  start_ms: 180610\n  end_ms: 183230\n- text: It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n  start_ms: 183230\n  end_ms: 185950\n- text: Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  start_ms: 185950\n  end_ms: 188670\n- text: The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  start_ms: 188670\n  end_ms: 191690\n- text: The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n  start_ms: 191690\n  end_ms: 195240\n- text: I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n  start_ms: 195240\n  end_ms: 197240\n- text: '''Cause trust me, y''all can still feel the heat in the rain'\n  start_ms: 197240\n  end_ms: 200180\n- text: I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  start_ms: 200180\n  end_ms: 203060\n- text: Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n  start_ms: 203060\n  end_ms: 205640\n- text: Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  start_ms: 205640\n  end_ms: 208870\n- text: I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  start_ms: 208870\n  end_ms: 211150\n- text: Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 211150\n  end_ms: 212920\n- text: Where the sun roof used to be\n  start_ms: 212920\n  end_ms: 214580\n- text: I could see y'all not used to me\n  start_ms: 214580\n  end_ms: 216530\n- text: Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  start_ms: 216530\n  end_ms: 219690\n- text: Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n  start_ms: 219690\n  end_ms: 222080\n- text: You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  start_ms: 222080\n  end_ms: 225110\n- text: I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 225110\n  end_ms: 229650\n- text: Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  start_ms: 229650\n  end_ms: 234050\n- text: Grr\n  start_ms: 234050\n  end_ms: 235580\n- text: I'm headed nowhere fast\n  start_ms: 235580\n  end_ms: 237000\n- text: Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n  start_ms: 237000\n  end_ms: 239030\n- text: Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n  start_ms: 239030\n  end_ms: 241750\n- text: So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  start_ms: 241750\n  end_ms: 244500\n- text: So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n  start_ms: 244500\n  end_ms: 247750\n- text: All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n  start_ms: 247750\n  end_ms: 250530\n- text: Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n  start_ms: 250530\n  end_ms: 253350\n- text: We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  start_ms: 253350\n  end_ms: 256420\n- text: Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n  start_ms: 256420\n  end_ms: 258990\n- text: Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  start_ms: 258990\n  end_ms: 261220\n- text: It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n  start_ms: 261220\n  end_ms: 262980\n- text: That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n  start_ms: 262980\n  end_ms: 265650\n- text: Got my dogs covered (uh)\n  start_ms: 265650\n  end_ms: 266960\n- text: Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  start_ms: 266960\n  end_ms: 269490\n- text: It's dark and I love it (uh)\n  start_ms: 269490\n  end_ms: 270960\n- text: Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  start_ms: 270960\n  end_ms: 273130\n- text: You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)\n  start_ms: 273130\nplain: |-\n  Jay\n  Fuck that\n  This is it right here, baby\n  You know what it is\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck\n  Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n  38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n  I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n  I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n  Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n  Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n  Motherfucker\n  Yeah, yeah\n  I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n  It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n  I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  Where the sun roof used to be\n  I could see y'all not used to me\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  Grr\n  I'm headed nowhere fast\n  Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n  Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n  All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n  Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n  Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n  Got my dogs covered (uh)\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  It's dark and I love it (uh)\n  Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)\n"},{"id":30913322,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"Flesh Of My Flesh Blood Of My Blood (explicit)","duration":300.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay\nFuck that\nThis is it right here, baby\nYou know what it is\nYo, I used to have bad luck\nNow you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\nAnd I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nBoning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\nI need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nCall me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\nYo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\nI rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\nAyo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of Ls\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\nY'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\nL-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\nI tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\nMotherfucker\nYeah, yeah\nI'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\nIt started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\nI suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\nWhere the sun roof used to be\nI could see y'all not used to me\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\nY'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\nGrr\nI'm headed nowhere fast\nRun in the place (uh), gat in my waist\nNiggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\nAll you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\nPlay like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\nStyles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\nY'all niggas best to stop playin'\nIt'll be the ones you've forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\nGot my dogs covered (uh)\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\nIt's dark and I love it (uh)\nGet him, boy, let him loose (come on)\nYou want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.67] Jay\n[00:02.43] Fuck that\n[00:03.81] This is it right here, baby\n[00:06.04] You know what it is\n[00:09.20] Yo, I used to have bad luck\n[00:11.86] Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n[00:13.83] Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n[00:16.51] Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n[00:19.37] 38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n[00:22.01] And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n[00:24.82] 'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n[00:27.55] Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n[00:30.49] And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n[00:33.46] I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n[00:36.13] Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n[00:38.91] Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n[00:41.77] We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n[00:44.87] 'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n[00:47.47] Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n[00:49.99] Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n[00:52.91] I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n[00:55.56] Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n[00:58.48] You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n[01:01.34] And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n[01:03.94] Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n[01:07.56] And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n[01:09.74] Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n[01:12.36] New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n[01:15.48] Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n[01:18.11] And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n[01:20.89] Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n[01:23.66] I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n[01:26.54] I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n[01:29.43] It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n[01:32.17] Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n[01:35.07] I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n[01:37.81] And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n[01:40.65] That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n[01:43.41] And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n[01:46.06] I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n[01:48.86] 'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\n[01:52.03] Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n[01:54.53] Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n[01:57.46] Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n[02:02.55] Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n[02:05.69] In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n[02:08.41] Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n[02:11.33] Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n[02:13.99] I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n[02:16.79] I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n[02:19.59] Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n[02:22.48] 'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n[02:25.25] If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n[02:28.09] I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n[02:30.72] You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n[02:33.07] Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n[02:36.67] L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n[02:39.42] Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n[02:42.12] Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n[02:44.86] I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n[02:47.71] Motherfucker\n[02:49.85] Yeah, yeah\n[02:51.17] I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n[02:54.86] Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n[02:57.74] Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n[03:00.61] Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n[03:03.23] It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n[03:05.95] Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n[03:08.67] The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n[03:11.69] The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n[03:15.24] I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n[03:17.24] 'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n[03:20.18] I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n[03:23.06] Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n[03:25.64] Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n[03:28.87] I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n[03:31.15] Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n[03:32.92] Where the sun roof used to be\n[03:34.58] I could see y'all not used to me\n[03:36.53] Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n[03:39.69] Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n[03:42.08] You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n[03:45.11] I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n[03:49.65] Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n[03:54.05] Grr\n[03:55.58] I'm headed nowhere fast\n[03:57.00] Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n[03:59.03] Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n[04:01.75] So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n[04:04.50] So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n[04:07.75] All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n[04:10.53] Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n[04:13.35] We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n[04:16.42] Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n[04:18.99] Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n[04:21.22] It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n[04:22.98] That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n[04:25.65] Got my dogs covered (uh)\n[04:26.96] Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n[04:29.49] It's dark and I love it (uh)\n[04:30.96] Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n[04:33.13] You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX\n  album: Flesh Of My Flesh Blood Of My Blood (explicit)\n  duration_ms: 300000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Jay\n  start_ms: 670\n  end_ms: 2430\n- text: Fuck that\n  start_ms: 2430\n  end_ms: 3810\n- text: This is it right here, baby\n  start_ms: 3810\n  end_ms: 6040\n- text: You know what it is\n  start_ms: 6040\n  end_ms: 9200\n- text: Yo, I used to have bad luck\n  start_ms: 9200\n  end_ms: 11860\n- text: Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  start_ms: 11860\n  end_ms: 13830\n- text: Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  start_ms: 13830\n  end_ms: 16510\n- text: Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n  start_ms: 16510\n  end_ms: 19370\n- text: 38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  start_ms: 19370\n  end_ms: 22010\n- text: And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  start_ms: 22010\n  end_ms: 24820\n- text: '''Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist'\n  start_ms: 24820\n  end_ms: 27550\n- text: Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  start_ms: 27550\n  end_ms: 30490\n- text: And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n  start_ms: 30490\n  end_ms: 33460\n- text: I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n  start_ms: 33460\n  end_ms: 36130\n- text: Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  start_ms: 36130\n  end_ms: 38910\n- text: Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  start_ms: 38910\n  end_ms: 41770\n- text: We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n  start_ms: 41770\n  end_ms: 44870\n- text: '''Cause them rednecks up in the mountains''ll try to slay you'\n  start_ms: 44870\n  end_ms: 47470\n- text: Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  start_ms: 47470\n  end_ms: 49990\n- text: Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  start_ms: 49990\n  end_ms: 52910\n- text: I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  start_ms: 52910\n  end_ms: 55560\n- text: Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  start_ms: 55560\n  end_ms: 58480\n- text: You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  start_ms: 58480\n  end_ms: 61340\n- text: And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  start_ms: 61340\n  end_ms: 63940\n- text: Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  start_ms: 63940\n  end_ms: 67560\n- text: And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  start_ms: 67560\n  end_ms: 69740\n- text: Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  start_ms: 69740\n  end_ms: 72360\n- text: New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  start_ms: 72360\n  end_ms: 75480\n- text: Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  start_ms: 75480\n  end_ms: 78110\n- text: And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  start_ms: 78110\n  end_ms: 80890\n- text: Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  start_ms: 80890\n  end_ms: 83660\n- text: I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  start_ms: 83660\n  end_ms: 86540\n- text: I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  start_ms: 86540\n  end_ms: 89430\n- text: It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  start_ms: 89430\n  end_ms: 92170\n- text: Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n  start_ms: 92170\n  end_ms: 95070\n- text: I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  start_ms: 95070\n  end_ms: 97810\n- text: And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  start_ms: 97810\n  end_ms: 100650\n- text: That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  start_ms: 100650\n  end_ms: 103410\n- text: And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  start_ms: 103410\n  end_ms: 106060\n- text: I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  start_ms: 106060\n  end_ms: 108860\n- text: '''Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?'\n  start_ms: 108860\n  end_ms: 112030\n- text: Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  start_ms: 112030\n  end_ms: 114530\n- text: Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n  start_ms: 114530\n  end_ms: 117460\n- text: Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n  start_ms: 117460\n  end_ms: 122550\n- text: Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n  start_ms: 122550\n  end_ms: 125690\n- text: In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  start_ms: 125690\n  end_ms: 128410\n- text: Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  start_ms: 128410\n  end_ms: 131330\n- text: Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  start_ms: 131330\n  end_ms: 133990\n- text: I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  start_ms: 133990\n  end_ms: 136790\n- text: I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n  start_ms: 136790\n  end_ms: 139590\n- text: Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  start_ms: 139590\n  end_ms: 142480\n- text: '''Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver'\n  start_ms: 142480\n  end_ms: 145250\n- text: If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  start_ms: 145250\n  end_ms: 148090\n- text: I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  start_ms: 148090\n  end_ms: 150720\n- text: You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  start_ms: 150720\n  end_ms: 153070\n- text: Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  start_ms: 153070\n  end_ms: 156670\n- text: L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  start_ms: 156670\n  end_ms: 159420\n- text: Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  start_ms: 159420\n  end_ms: 162120\n- text: Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n  start_ms: 162120\n  end_ms: 164860\n- text: I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n  start_ms: 164860\n  end_ms: 167710\n- text: Motherfucker\n  start_ms: 167710\n  end_ms: 169850\n- text: Yeah, yeah\n  start_ms: 169850\n  end_ms: 171170\n- text: I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  start_ms: 171170\n  end_ms: 174860\n- text: Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  start_ms: 174860\n  end_ms: 177740\n- text: Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  start_ms: 177740\n  end_ms: 180610\n- text: Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n  start_ms: 180610\n  end_ms: 183230\n- text: It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n  start_ms: 183230\n  end_ms: 185950\n- text: Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  start_ms: 185950\n  end_ms: 188670\n- text: The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  start_ms: 188670\n  end_ms: 191690\n- text: The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n  start_ms: 191690\n  end_ms: 195240\n- text: I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n  start_ms: 195240\n  end_ms: 197240\n- text: '''Cause trust me, y''all can still feel the heat in the rain'\n  start_ms: 197240\n  end_ms: 200180\n- text: I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  start_ms: 200180\n  end_ms: 203060\n- text: Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n  start_ms: 203060\n  end_ms: 205640\n- text: Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  start_ms: 205640\n  end_ms: 208870\n- text: I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  start_ms: 208870\n  end_ms: 211150\n- text: Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 211150\n  end_ms: 212920\n- text: Where the sun roof used to be\n  start_ms: 212920\n  end_ms: 214580\n- text: I could see y'all not used to me\n  start_ms: 214580\n  end_ms: 216530\n- text: Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  start_ms: 216530\n  end_ms: 219690\n- text: Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n  start_ms: 219690\n  end_ms: 222080\n- text: You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  start_ms: 222080\n  end_ms: 225110\n- text: I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 225110\n  end_ms: 229650\n- text: Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  start_ms: 229650\n  end_ms: 234050\n- text: Grr\n  start_ms: 234050\n  end_ms: 235580\n- text: I'm headed nowhere fast\n  start_ms: 235580\n  end_ms: 237000\n- text: Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n  start_ms: 237000\n  end_ms: 239030\n- text: Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n  start_ms: 239030\n  end_ms: 241750\n- text: So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  start_ms: 241750\n  end_ms: 244500\n- text: So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n  start_ms: 244500\n  end_ms: 247750\n- text: All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n  start_ms: 247750\n  end_ms: 250530\n- text: Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n  start_ms: 250530\n  end_ms: 253350\n- text: We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  start_ms: 253350\n  end_ms: 256420\n- text: Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n  start_ms: 256420\n  end_ms: 258990\n- text: Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  start_ms: 258990\n  end_ms: 261220\n- text: It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n  start_ms: 261220\n  end_ms: 262980\n- text: That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n  start_ms: 262980\n  end_ms: 265650\n- text: Got my dogs covered (uh)\n  start_ms: 265650\n  end_ms: 266960\n- text: Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  start_ms: 266960\n  end_ms: 269490\n- text: It's dark and I love it (uh)\n  start_ms: 269490\n  end_ms: 270960\n- text: Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  start_ms: 270960\n  end_ms: 273130\n- text: You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)\n  start_ms: 273130\nplain: |-\n  Jay\n  Fuck that\n  This is it right here, baby\n  You know what it is\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck\n  Now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R tee with the matchin' bandana\n  38-snub, blue steel with no hammer\n  And I see y'all niggas tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Boning your women, drunk off Coronas and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n  I need the bucket, even though I look right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggas throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on the label\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  Call me raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss (uh-huh) a hundred for The LOX (yeah)\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n  Yo, when my gun bust, send niggas to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheek Louch, type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggas my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheek, go fuck with a ho\n  I rock a waist-length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheek in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try and tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me, you be a was-nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n  Ayo, catch me with a .38 box of shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of Ls\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was BIG\n  Y'all niggas is sonned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n  L-O-X get respect like Sonny from Bronx Tale\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggas eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggas ride, you won't leave with a dime\n  Motherfucker\n  Yeah, yeah\n  I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by sixes and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n  It started from hunger, 'til it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted (uh), see the digits unlisted (yeah)\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n  I suggest niggas stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggas is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes, not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top (uh-huh)\n  Where the sun roof used to be\n  I could see y'all not used to me\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butt ya\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya, motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggas 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n  Grr\n  I'm headed nowhere fast\n  Run in the place (uh), gat in my waist\n  Niggas wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face (uh)\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again (what?)\n  All you motherfuckers know that I speak from the heart (uh)\n  Play like you don't know L-O-X is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggas\n  Styles, Sheek, Jay, we comin' with like four niggas (aight?)\n  Y'all niggas best to stop playin'\n  It'll be the ones you've forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth (arf, arf)\n  Got my dogs covered (uh)\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered (what?)\n  It's dark and I love it (uh)\n  Get him, boy, let him loose (come on)\n  You want it with the dog or the gun? Let him choose (come on)\n"},{"id":19802063,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"The Definition Of X: Pick Of The Litter","duration":300.199175,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\nAnd I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nPhonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\nI need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nThey call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\nAiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\nI rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\nAiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of L's\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\nY'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\nI tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\nIt started from hunger, till it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top\nWhere the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\nY'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\nI'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\nNiggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\nAll you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\nPlay like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\nStyles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\nY'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\nYou want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX\n  album: 'The Definition Of X: Pick Of The Litter'\n  duration_ms: 300199\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n  38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\n  And I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Phonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\n  I need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  They call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\n  Aiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\n  I rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\n  Aiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of L's\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\n  Y'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\n  It started from hunger, till it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top\n  Where the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\n  I'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\n  Niggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\n  All you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\n  Play like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\n  Styles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\n  Y'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n  'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\n  You want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon\n"},{"id":19408776,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"The Definition Of X: Pick Of The Litter","duration":295.08,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\nYou know what it is\n\nYo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\nMad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\nDouble-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\nAnd I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\nPhonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\nAnd you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\nI need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\nJudge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\nNiggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\nWe put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\nThey call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\nFuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\nI got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\nUsually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\nYou pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\nAnd if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\nWhatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\nAnd you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\nAiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\nNew York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\nSheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\nAnd that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\nNow I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\nI want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\nI got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\nIt's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\nMake car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\nI rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\nAnd I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\nThat's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\nAnd for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\nI put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\nDon't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\nFuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\nNigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\nAiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\nIn a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\nOrder to go, always got a box of L's\nBlow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\nI'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\nI pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\nY'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\nIf I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\nI spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\nYou hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\nCommon sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\nL.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\nUs and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\nThirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\nI tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\nYeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\nGhetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\nSurrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\nTryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\nIt started from hunger, till it all went insane\nNow bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\nThe chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\nThe beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\nI suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\nI keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\nNiggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\nJay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\nI just circle 'round the block in a drop\nTell them jump through the top\nWhere the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\nNigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\nToughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\nYou the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\nI'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\nY'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\nI'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\nNiggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\nSo what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\nSo now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\nAll you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\nPlay like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\nWe can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\nStyles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\nY'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\nThat'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\nPlus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\nYou want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: DMX\n  album: 'The Definition Of X: Pick Of The Litter'\n  duration_ms: 295080\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Jay! Fuck that, this is it right here baby!\n  You know what it is\n\n  Yo, I used to have bad luck, now you might see me in a Jag truck\n  Mad stuck, either with a dime or a bad duck\n  Double-R T with the matchin' bandanna\n  38-snub blue steel with no hammer\n\n  And I see y'all niggaz tryin' to glance at the 'Kiss\n  'Cause I walk around with your whole advance on my wrist\n  Phonin' your women, drunk off na's and lemon\n  And you know I'm still writin' the mean, lightin' the green\n\n  I need to boogie, even though I look, right in the beam\n  Judge find out it's my team, he boost they bails\n  Niggaz throw us on they album, try to boost they sales\n  We put our pies on the table and our eyes on a label\n\n  'Cause them rednecks up in the mountains'll try to slay you\n  They call me Raspy, tell you what I want you to know\n  Fuck what you ask me, you probably don't, want me to blow\n  I got a lot of horsepower so I'm able to skip\n\n  Usually a good nigga, even though I'm able to flip\n  You pay 30 for the 'Kiss, a 100 for The L.O.X.\n  And if we cool, then I write a hook for a drop\n  Whatever's in the bank is my bet, a Z-bull's my pet\n  And you can bet he'll get the legs and the neck\n\n  Aiyyo, yo when my gun bust, send niggaz to the fish like Swanson\n  New York's youngest Bumpy Johnson, I put fear in y'all heads\n  Sheik Luc', type of nigga gasoline y'all beds\n  And that's warnin', if you all alive in the mornin', that's fine\n  Now I suggest you hit the block and get what's rightfully mine\n\n  I want PC, see me? Tuck in your chains\n  I got niggaz my pop's age that lifestyle ain't changed\n  It's like wake up, move a brick, half of it slow\n  Make car money, check with Sheik, go fuck with a hoe\n\n  I rock a waist length mink, do-rag under my fitted\n  And I don't even want waves, Timbs be halfway new\n  That's Sheik in the dress-up club 'cause I don't fuck with shoes\n  And for my nigga's life, I swear to the Bible, let it be told\n\n  I put thirty in your head, all in the same hole\n  'Cause we got the same goal, and you try an' tamper with mine?\n  Don't make me motherfuckin' leave you with some shit in your spine\n  Fuck with me you be a was nigga, nigga was dope\n  Nigga was gettin' money 'fore I extorted your coke, 'ju crazy?\n\n  Aiyyo, catch me with a thirty-eight, box and shells\n  In a ninety-eight Lincoln eatin' pasta shells\n  Order to go, always got a box of L's\n  Blow, stay on the low, get a Heine' and swig\n\n  I'm Pinero, so I hate a snake, rat, or a pig\n  I pop shit 'cause I'm the second best, the first was B.I.G.\n  Y'all niggaz is son-ned out, let me speak to your father\n  'Cause I like to play chess and I swing the revolver\n\n  If I don't like a nigga, I don't even be bothered\n  I spit, I'm just a crooked nigga goin' legit\n  You hold your nine if you holdin' a brick\n  Common sense, Fed drama, you hit the Bahamas, get bent\n\n  L.O.X. get respect like Sonny from 'Bronx Tale'\n  Us and DMX, the Ruff Ryder cartel\n  Thirsty to live, are y'all niggaz eager to die?\n  I tell all my niggaz ride, you won't leave with a dime, motherfucker\n\n  Yeah, yeah I'm a monster, I sleep whole winters, wake up and spit summers\n  Ghetto nigga, puttin' up Will Smith numbers\n  Surrounded by 6's and Hummers, bitches among us\n  Tryin' not to let this bullshit become us\n\n  It started from hunger, till it all went insane\n  Now bitches notice the chains now that I hit my number\n  The chickens I twisted see the digits unlisted\n  The beeper done changed, you dead bitch, the reaper done came\n\n  I suggest niggaz stop speakin' my name\n  'Cause trust me, y'all can still feel the heat in the rain\n  I keep creepin', streets keep watchin', I keep poppin'\n  Niggaz is hot heads and the bullets is heat-seekin'\n\n  Jay flow for pesos, chase hoes not\n  I just circle 'round the block in a drop\n  Tell them jump through the top\n  Where the sun roof used to be, I could see y'all not used to me\n\n  Nigga flows like none other, I'm the meanest\n  Toughest Don Dada, the gun butcher\n  You the type that bust a lot of shots and none touch ya\n  I'm the type that get excited, when the gun touch ya motherfuckers\n  Y'all niggaz 'bout to witness a dynasty like no other\n\n  I'm headed nowhere fast run in the place, gat in my waist\n  Niggaz wanted a taste, but wouldn't come to my face\n  So what that mean? You cats is playin' games again\n  So now what I do? Start namin' names again, what?\n\n  All you motherfuckers know, that I speak from the heart\n  Play like you don't know, L.O.X. is gon' bark\n  We can take it there, but to make it fair, get some more niggaz\n  Styles, Sheik, Jay, we comin' with like four niggaz, aight\n\n  Y'all niggaz, best to stop playin', it'll be the ones you forgotten about\n  That'll get you shot in your mouth, got my dogs covered\n  Plus it's all gravy like chicken when it's smothered, what?\n  'It's Dark,' and I love it, get him boy, let him loose, c'mon\n  You want it with the dog? Get a gun, let him shoot, c'mon\n"}]