[{"id":12471395,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White)","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX, Drag-On, L.O.X.","albumName":"...And Then There Was X","duration":262.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nif I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nfrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\ntil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nknow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX, Drag-On, L.O.X.\n  album: '...And Then There Was X'\n  duration_ms: 262000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  if I ain't gettin proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\n  I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  from rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":35176096,"name":"D-X-L [Hard White]","trackName":"D-X-L [Hard White]","artistName":"DMX/Feat. The L.O.X & Drag-On","albumName":"And There Was X","duration":261.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin' proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\nI ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n\nMy niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\nBrand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\nI put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n\nAyo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\nPlay Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n\nAnd it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nWhy I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\nFrom rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\nBounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is comin', 80 bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\n'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\nNice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tell from my auras no morals\n\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\nDrag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\nI don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n\nNow you motherfuckers know what my name means\nWhen you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\nI bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\nNow don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\nAll that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\nIt happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\nTalking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\nFrom the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\nLet them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n\nThey gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\n\nThey gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.94] Holiday Styles\n[00:03.32] Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n[00:05.97] If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n[00:07.41] I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n[00:10.13] I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n[00:12.82] If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n[00:15.23] I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n[00:17.72] Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n[00:20.05] We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n[00:22.88] My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n[00:25.50] Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n[00:28.18] Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n[00:30.48] I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n[00:33.35] Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n[00:35.75] 'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\n[00:38.30] You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n[00:40.94] You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n[00:43.01] Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n[00:46.10] And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n[00:48.55] No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n[00:51.02] Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n[00:53.53] My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n[00:56.14] What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n[00:58.69] Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n[01:01.34] Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n[01:03.98] And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n[01:06.44] I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n[01:08.84] Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n[01:11.50] You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n[01:14.10] I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n[01:16.76] From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n[01:19.25] I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n[01:21.62] Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n[01:24.03] All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n[01:26.76] A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n[01:29.36] A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n[01:31.85] Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n[01:34.40] Bet you never even felt the heat\n[01:36.27] 'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n[01:39.70] Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n[01:42.50] Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n[01:45.06] Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n[01:47.49] If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n[01:49.98] Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n[01:52.92] Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n[01:55.33] All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n[01:57.97] Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n[02:00.47] Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n[02:02.74] It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n[02:04.96] Creep through the streets\n[02:06.11] For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n[02:08.07] Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n[02:10.89] Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n[02:13.66] Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n[02:16.56] And take casket naps, fuck that\n[02:18.74] You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n[02:20.55] All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n[02:23.30] No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n[02:26.18] Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n[02:28.65] So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n[02:31.49] Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n[02:34.64] Drag done ate your food\n[02:35.98] Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n[02:38.52] Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n[02:41.06] Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n[02:43.86] I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n[02:45.77] Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n[02:47.72] When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n[02:48.66] Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n[02:50.14] You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n[02:51.33] You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n[02:53.94] What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n[02:56.41] I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n[02:59.20] Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n[03:01.62] I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n[03:04.22] And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n[03:06.84] It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n[03:09.50] Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n[03:12.18] Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n[03:15.38] All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n[03:17.35] It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n[03:19.41] Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n[03:22.03] From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n[03:24.54] Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n[03:27.37] They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n[03:29.89] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:32.18] They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n[03:34.80] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:37.20] They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n[03:39.86] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:42.44] They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n[03:45.10] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:47.59] They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n[03:50.13] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:52.61] They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n[03:55.36] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:57.89] They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n[04:00.48] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[04:02.80] They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n[04:05.45] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[04:07.61] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L [Hard White]\n  artist: DMX/Feat. The L.O.X & Drag-On\n  album: And There Was X\n  duration_ms: 261000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Holiday Styles\n  start_ms: 1940\n  end_ms: 3320\n- text: Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  start_ms: 3320\n  end_ms: 5970\n- text: If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  start_ms: 5970\n  end_ms: 7410\n- text: I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  start_ms: 7410\n  end_ms: 10130\n- text: I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  start_ms: 10130\n  end_ms: 12820\n- text: If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  start_ms: 12820\n  end_ms: 15230\n- text: I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n  start_ms: 15230\n  end_ms: 17720\n- text: Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n  start_ms: 17720\n  end_ms: 20050\n- text: We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  start_ms: 20050\n  end_ms: 22880\n- text: My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  start_ms: 22880\n  end_ms: 25500\n- text: Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  start_ms: 25500\n  end_ms: 28180\n- text: Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n  start_ms: 28180\n  end_ms: 30480\n- text: I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n  start_ms: 30480\n  end_ms: 33350\n- text: Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 33350\n  end_ms: 35750\n- text: '''Cause the P gonna squeeze ''til no slugs is left (what?)'\n  start_ms: 35750\n  end_ms: 38300\n- text: You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  start_ms: 38300\n  end_ms: 40940\n- text: You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n  start_ms: 40940\n  end_ms: 43010\n- text: Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  start_ms: 43010\n  end_ms: 46100\n- text: And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  start_ms: 46100\n  end_ms: 48550\n- text: No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  start_ms: 48550\n  end_ms: 51020\n- text: Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  start_ms: 51020\n  end_ms: 53530\n- text: My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  start_ms: 53530\n  end_ms: 56140\n- text: What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  start_ms: 56140\n  end_ms: 58690\n- text: Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  start_ms: 58690\n  end_ms: 61340\n- text: Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n  start_ms: 61340\n  end_ms: 63980\n- text: And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n  start_ms: 63980\n  end_ms: 66440\n- text: I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  start_ms: 66440\n  end_ms: 68840\n- text: Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  start_ms: 68840\n  end_ms: 71500\n- text: You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  start_ms: 71500\n  end_ms: 74100\n- text: I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n  start_ms: 74100\n  end_ms: 76760\n- text: From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  start_ms: 76760\n  end_ms: 79250\n- text: I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 79250\n  end_ms: 81620\n- text: Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 81620\n  end_ms: 84030\n- text: All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  start_ms: 84030\n  end_ms: 86760\n- text: A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  start_ms: 86760\n  end_ms: 89360\n- text: A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n  start_ms: 89360\n  end_ms: 91850\n- text: Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  start_ms: 91850\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Bet you never even felt the heat\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96270\n- text: '''Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease'\n  start_ms: 96270\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102500\n- text: Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  start_ms: 102500\n  end_ms: 105060\n- text: Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  start_ms: 105060\n  end_ms: 107490\n- text: If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  start_ms: 107490\n  end_ms: 109980\n- text: Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  start_ms: 109980\n  end_ms: 112920\n- text: Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n  start_ms: 112920\n  end_ms: 115330\n- text: All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  start_ms: 115330\n  end_ms: 117970\n- text: Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  start_ms: 117970\n  end_ms: 120470\n- text: Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  start_ms: 120470\n  end_ms: 122740\n- text: It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 122740\n  end_ms: 124960\n- text: Creep through the streets\n  start_ms: 124960\n  end_ms: 126110\n- text: For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  start_ms: 126110\n  end_ms: 128070\n- text: Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  start_ms: 128070\n  end_ms: 130890\n- text: Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  start_ms: 130890\n  end_ms: 133660\n- text: Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  start_ms: 133660\n  end_ms: 136560\n- text: And take casket naps, fuck that\n  start_ms: 136560\n  end_ms: 138740\n- text: You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  start_ms: 138740\n  end_ms: 140550\n- text: All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  start_ms: 140550\n  end_ms: 143300\n- text: No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n  start_ms: 143300\n  end_ms: 146180\n- text: Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  start_ms: 146180\n  end_ms: 148650\n- text: So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n  start_ms: 148650\n  end_ms: 151490\n- text: Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  start_ms: 151490\n  end_ms: 154640\n- text: Drag done ate your food\n  start_ms: 154640\n  end_ms: 155980\n- text: Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n  start_ms: 155980\n  end_ms: 158520\n- text: Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  start_ms: 158520\n  end_ms: 161060\n- text: Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n  start_ms: 161060\n  end_ms: 163860\n- text: I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 163860\n  end_ms: 165770\n- text: Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n  start_ms: 165770\n  end_ms: 167720\n- text: When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  start_ms: 167720\n  end_ms: 168660\n- text: Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n  start_ms: 168660\n  end_ms: 170140\n- text: You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n  start_ms: 170140\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173940\n- text: What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n  start_ms: 173940\n  end_ms: 176410\n- text: I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n  start_ms: 176410\n  end_ms: 179200\n- text: Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n  start_ms: 179200\n  end_ms: 181620\n- text: I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 181620\n  end_ms: 184220\n- text: And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  start_ms: 184220\n  end_ms: 186840\n- text: It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 186840\n  end_ms: 189500\n- text: Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  start_ms: 189500\n  end_ms: 192180\n- text: Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n  start_ms: 192180\n  end_ms: 195380\n- text: All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n  start_ms: 195380\n  end_ms: 197350\n- text: It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  start_ms: 197350\n  end_ms: 199410\n- text: Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  start_ms: 199410\n  end_ms: 202030\n- text: From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  start_ms: 202030\n  end_ms: 204540\n- text: Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n  start_ms: 204540\n  end_ms: 207370\n- text: They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  start_ms: 207370\n  end_ms: 209890\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 209890\n  end_ms: 212180\n- text: They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  start_ms: 212180\n  end_ms: 214800\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 214800\n  end_ms: 217200\n- text: They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  start_ms: 217200\n  end_ms: 219860\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 219860\n  end_ms: 222440\n- text: They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  start_ms: 222440\n  end_ms: 225100\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 225100\n  end_ms: 227590\n- text: They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  start_ms: 227590\n  end_ms: 230130\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 230130\n  end_ms: 232610\n- text: They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  start_ms: 232610\n  end_ms: 235360\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 235360\n  end_ms: 237890\n- text: They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  start_ms: 237890\n  end_ms: 240480\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 240480\n  end_ms: 242800\n- text: They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  start_ms: 242800\n  end_ms: 245450\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 245450\n  end_ms: 247610\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247610\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n\n  My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n\n  Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n\n  And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n  From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n  Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n  I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n\n  Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n  When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n  I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n  All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n  It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n\n  They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n\n  They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n"},{"id":5332429,"name":"D‐X‐L (Hard White)","trackName":"D‐X‐L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"…And Then There Was X","duration":262.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nFrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\nTil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nKnow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.99] Holiday Styles\n[00:03.34] Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n[00:05.99] If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n[00:07.47] I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n[00:10.18] I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n[00:12.88] If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n[00:15.20] I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n[00:17.73] Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n[00:20.07] We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n[00:22.86] My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n[00:25.56] Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n[00:28.11] Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n[00:30.44] I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n[00:33.32] Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n[00:35.77] 'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\n[00:38.22] You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n[00:40.95] You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n[00:43.08] Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n[00:46.13] And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n[00:48.59] No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n[00:51.05] Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n[00:53.56] My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n[00:56.11] What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n[00:58.68] Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n[01:01.37] Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n[01:03.99] And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n[01:06.41] I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n[01:08.80] Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n[01:11.52] You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n[01:14.10] I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n[01:16.76] From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n[01:19.22] I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n[01:21.63] Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n[01:24.05] All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n[01:26.70] A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n[01:29.31] A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n[01:31.84] Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n[01:34.40] Bet you never even felt the heat\n[01:36.24] 'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n[01:39.72] Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n[01:42.57] Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n[01:45.01] Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n[01:47.43] If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n[01:49.92] Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n[01:52.93] Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n[01:55.31] All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n[01:57.94] Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n[02:00.48] Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n[02:02.70] It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n[02:04.98] Creep through the streets\n[02:06.18] For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n[02:08.05] Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n[02:10.95] Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n[02:13.69] Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n[02:16.54] And take casket naps, fuck that\n[02:18.71] You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n[02:20.59] All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n[02:23.35] No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n[02:26.12] Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n[02:28.62] So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n[02:31.44] Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n[02:34.69] Drag done ate your food\n[02:35.95] Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n[02:38.58] Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n[02:41.04] Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n[02:43.84] I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n[02:45.79] Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n[02:47.79] When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n[02:48.65] Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n[02:50.14] You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n[02:51.31] You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n[02:53.93] What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n[02:56.46] I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n[02:59.25] Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n[03:01.65] I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n[03:04.20] And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n[03:06.86] It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n[03:09.50] Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n[03:12.19] Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n[03:15.36] All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n[03:17.38] It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n[03:19.47] Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n[03:22.02] From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n[03:24.52] Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n[03:27.37] They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n[03:29.86] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:32.14] They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n[03:34.86] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:37.21] They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n[03:39.86] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:42.48] They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n[03:45.16] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:47.55] They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n[03:50.13] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:52.64] They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n[03:55.30] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:57.88] They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n[04:00.44] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[04:02.89] They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n[04:05.43] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[04:21.99] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D‐X‐L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: …And Then There Was X\n  duration_ms: 262000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Holiday Styles\n  start_ms: 1990\n  end_ms: 3340\n- text: Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  start_ms: 3340\n  end_ms: 5990\n- text: If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  start_ms: 5990\n  end_ms: 7470\n- text: I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  start_ms: 7470\n  end_ms: 10180\n- text: I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  start_ms: 10180\n  end_ms: 12880\n- text: If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  start_ms: 12880\n  end_ms: 15200\n- text: I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n  start_ms: 15200\n  end_ms: 17730\n- text: Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n  start_ms: 17730\n  end_ms: 20070\n- text: We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  start_ms: 20070\n  end_ms: 22860\n- text: My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  start_ms: 22860\n  end_ms: 25560\n- text: Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  start_ms: 25560\n  end_ms: 28110\n- text: Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n  start_ms: 28110\n  end_ms: 30440\n- text: I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n  start_ms: 30440\n  end_ms: 33320\n- text: Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 33320\n  end_ms: 35770\n- text: '''Cause the P gonna squeeze ''til no slugs is left (what?)'\n  start_ms: 35770\n  end_ms: 38220\n- text: You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  start_ms: 38220\n  end_ms: 40950\n- text: You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n  start_ms: 40950\n  end_ms: 43080\n- text: Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  start_ms: 43080\n  end_ms: 46130\n- text: And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  start_ms: 46130\n  end_ms: 48590\n- text: No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  start_ms: 48590\n  end_ms: 51050\n- text: Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  start_ms: 51050\n  end_ms: 53560\n- text: My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  start_ms: 53560\n  end_ms: 56110\n- text: What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  start_ms: 56110\n  end_ms: 58680\n- text: Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  start_ms: 58680\n  end_ms: 61370\n- text: Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n  start_ms: 61370\n  end_ms: 63990\n- text: And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n  start_ms: 63990\n  end_ms: 66410\n- text: I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  start_ms: 66410\n  end_ms: 68800\n- text: Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  start_ms: 68800\n  end_ms: 71520\n- text: You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  start_ms: 71520\n  end_ms: 74100\n- text: I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n  start_ms: 74100\n  end_ms: 76760\n- text: From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  start_ms: 76760\n  end_ms: 79220\n- text: I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 79220\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84050\n- text: All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  start_ms: 84050\n  end_ms: 86700\n- text: A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  start_ms: 86700\n  end_ms: 89310\n- text: A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n  start_ms: 89310\n  end_ms: 91840\n- text: Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  start_ms: 91840\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Bet you never even felt the heat\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96240\n- text: '''Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease'\n  start_ms: 96240\n  end_ms: 99720\n- text: Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  start_ms: 99720\n  end_ms: 102570\n- text: Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  start_ms: 102570\n  end_ms: 105010\n- text: Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  start_ms: 105010\n  end_ms: 107430\n- text: If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  start_ms: 107430\n  end_ms: 109920\n- text: Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  start_ms: 109920\n  end_ms: 112930\n- text: Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n  start_ms: 112930\n  end_ms: 115310\n- text: All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  start_ms: 115310\n  end_ms: 117940\n- text: Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  start_ms: 117940\n  end_ms: 120480\n- text: Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  start_ms: 120480\n  end_ms: 122700\n- text: It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 122700\n  end_ms: 124980\n- text: Creep through the streets\n  start_ms: 124980\n  end_ms: 126180\n- text: For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  start_ms: 126180\n  end_ms: 128050\n- text: Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  start_ms: 128050\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 133690\n- text: Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  start_ms: 133690\n  end_ms: 136540\n- text: And take casket naps, fuck that\n  start_ms: 136540\n  end_ms: 138710\n- text: You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  start_ms: 138710\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 143350\n- text: No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n  start_ms: 143350\n  end_ms: 146120\n- text: Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  start_ms: 146120\n  end_ms: 148620\n- text: So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n  start_ms: 148620\n  end_ms: 151440\n- text: Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  start_ms: 151440\n  end_ms: 154690\n- text: Drag done ate your food\n  start_ms: 154690\n  end_ms: 155950\n- text: Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n  start_ms: 155950\n  end_ms: 158580\n- text: Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  start_ms: 158580\n  end_ms: 161040\n- text: Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n  start_ms: 161040\n  end_ms: 163840\n- text: I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 163840\n  end_ms: 165790\n- text: Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n  start_ms: 165790\n  end_ms: 167790\n- text: When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  start_ms: 167790\n  end_ms: 168650\n- text: Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n  start_ms: 168650\n  end_ms: 170140\n- text: You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n  start_ms: 170140\n  end_ms: 171310\n- text: You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 171310\n  end_ms: 173930\n- text: What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n  start_ms: 173930\n  end_ms: 176460\n- text: I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n  start_ms: 176460\n  end_ms: 179250\n- text: Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n  start_ms: 179250\n  end_ms: 181650\n- text: I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 181650\n  end_ms: 184200\n- text: And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  start_ms: 184200\n  end_ms: 186860\n- text: It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 186860\n  end_ms: 189500\n- text: Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  start_ms: 189500\n  end_ms: 192190\n- text: Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n  start_ms: 192190\n  end_ms: 195360\n- text: All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n  start_ms: 195360\n  end_ms: 197380\n- text: It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  start_ms: 197380\n  end_ms: 199470\n- text: Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  start_ms: 199470\n  end_ms: 202020\n- text: From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  start_ms: 202020\n  end_ms: 204520\n- text: Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n  start_ms: 204520\n  end_ms: 207370\n- text: They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  start_ms: 207370\n  end_ms: 209860\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 209860\n  end_ms: 212140\n- text: They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  start_ms: 212140\n  end_ms: 214860\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 214860\n  end_ms: 217210\n- text: They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  start_ms: 217210\n  end_ms: 219860\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 219860\n  end_ms: 222480\n- text: They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  start_ms: 222480\n  end_ms: 225160\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 225160\n  end_ms: 227550\n- text: They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  start_ms: 227550\n  end_ms: 230130\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 230130\n  end_ms: 232640\n- text: They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  start_ms: 232640\n  end_ms: 235300\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 235300\n  end_ms: 237880\n- text: They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  start_ms: 237880\n  end_ms: 240440\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 240440\n  end_ms: 242890\n- text: They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  start_ms: 242890\n  end_ms: 245430\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 245430\n  end_ms: 261990\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\n  I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  From rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  Know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":4396160,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White)","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"...And Then There Was X","duration":262.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin' proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\nI ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nAyo, ayo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\nPlay Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nFrom rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\nAll I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\n'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help, we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\nNice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\nIt's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\nDrag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nAnd you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\nYou want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin'\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\nNow don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\nIf you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\nAll that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\nIt happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\nTalkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\nFrom the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\nLet them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\nI'm dog for life! Nigga!\nThey gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.43] Holiday Styles\n[00:02.94] Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n[00:05.28] If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n[00:07.25] I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n[00:09.28] I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n[00:11.95] If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n[00:14.47] I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n[00:17.10] Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n[00:19.52] We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n[00:22.26] My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n[00:24.78] Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n[00:27.48] Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n[00:29.77] I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n[00:32.39] Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n[00:35.11] 'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n[00:37.46] You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n[00:40.21] You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n[00:42.12] Ayo, ayo\n[00:43.21] I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n[00:45.02] And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n[00:47.60] No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n[00:50.28] Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n[00:52.79] My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n[00:55.45] What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n[00:58.03] Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n[01:00.50] Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n[01:03.11] And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n[01:05.50] I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n[01:08.14] Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n[01:10.66] You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n[01:13.46] I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n[01:15.97] From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n[01:18.65] I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n[01:21.14] Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n[01:23.30] All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n[01:26.31] A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n[01:28.59] A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n[01:31.19] Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n[01:33.77] Bet you never even felt the heat\n[01:35.63] 'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n[01:39.09] Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n[01:41.81] Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n[01:44.04] Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n[01:47.01] If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n[01:49.03] Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n[01:51.83] Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n[01:54.64] All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n[01:57.13] Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n[01:59.36] Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n[02:01.39] It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n[02:04.48] Creep through the streets\n[02:05.42] For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n[02:06.91] Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n[02:09.41] Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n[02:12.19] Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n[02:15.58] And take casket naps, fuck that\n[02:17.81] You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n[02:19.59] All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n[02:22.41] No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n[02:24.69] Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n[02:27.54] So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n[02:30.13] Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n[02:33.59] Drag done ate your food\n[02:34.86] Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n[02:37.65] Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n[02:40.16] Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n[02:42.58] I don't brag I let the streets tell\n[02:44.59] Po'-po' now you see he fell\n[02:44.77] And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n[02:47.66] Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n[02:49.07] You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n[02:50.38] You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n[02:52.75] What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n[02:54.14] A lot of easy walkin'\n[02:55.78] I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n[02:58.19] Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n[03:00.57] I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n[03:02.62] And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n[03:05.30] It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n[03:08.20] Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n[03:10.74] Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n[03:12.92] If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n[03:14.17] All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n[03:15.89] It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n[03:18.10] Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n[03:20.75] From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n[03:23.41] Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n[03:25.09] I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n[03:26.15] They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:28.78] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:31.25] They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:33.91] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:36.07] They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[03:38.97] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:41.60] They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[03:44.22] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:46.65] They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:49.14] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:51.94] They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:54.36] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:57.07] They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[03:59.50] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[04:01.59] They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[04:04.46] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: '...And Then There Was X'\n  duration_ms: 262000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Holiday Styles\n  start_ms: 1430\n  end_ms: 2940\n- text: Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  start_ms: 2940\n  end_ms: 5280\n- text: If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  start_ms: 5280\n  end_ms: 7250\n- text: I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  start_ms: 7250\n  end_ms: 9280\n- text: I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  start_ms: 9280\n  end_ms: 11950\n- text: If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  start_ms: 11950\n  end_ms: 14470\n- text: I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  start_ms: 14470\n  end_ms: 17100\n- text: Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  start_ms: 17100\n  end_ms: 19520\n- text: We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  start_ms: 19520\n  end_ms: 22260\n- text: My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  start_ms: 22260\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 27480\n- text: Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  start_ms: 27480\n  end_ms: 29770\n- text: I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  start_ms: 29770\n  end_ms: 32390\n- text: Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 32390\n  end_ms: 35110\n- text: '''Cause the P gon'' squeeze ''til no slugs is left (what)'\n  start_ms: 35110\n  end_ms: 37460\n- text: You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  start_ms: 37460\n  end_ms: 40210\n- text: You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  start_ms: 40210\n  end_ms: 42120\n- text: Ayo, ayo\n  start_ms: 42120\n  end_ms: 43210\n- text: I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  start_ms: 43210\n  end_ms: 45020\n- text: And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  start_ms: 45020\n  end_ms: 47600\n- text: No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  start_ms: 47600\n  end_ms: 50280\n- text: Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  start_ms: 50280\n  end_ms: 52790\n- text: My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  start_ms: 52790\n  end_ms: 55450\n- text: What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  start_ms: 55450\n  end_ms: 58030\n- text: Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  start_ms: 58030\n  end_ms: 60500\n- text: Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  start_ms: 60500\n  end_ms: 63110\n- text: And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  start_ms: 63110\n  end_ms: 65500\n- text: I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  start_ms: 65500\n  end_ms: 68140\n- text: Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  start_ms: 68140\n  end_ms: 70660\n- text: You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  start_ms: 70660\n  end_ms: 73460\n- text: I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  start_ms: 73460\n  end_ms: 75970\n- text: From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  start_ms: 75970\n  end_ms: 78650\n- text: I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  start_ms: 78650\n  end_ms: 81140\n- text: Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n  start_ms: 81140\n  end_ms: 83300\n- text: All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n  start_ms: 83300\n  end_ms: 86310\n- text: A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  start_ms: 86310\n  end_ms: 88590\n- text: A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  start_ms: 88590\n  end_ms: 91190\n- text: Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  start_ms: 91190\n  end_ms: 93770\n- text: Bet you never even felt the heat\n  start_ms: 93770\n  end_ms: 95630\n- text: '''Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease'\n  start_ms: 95630\n  end_ms: 99090\n- text: Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  start_ms: 99090\n  end_ms: 101810\n- text: Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  start_ms: 101810\n  end_ms: 104040\n- text: Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  start_ms: 104040\n  end_ms: 107010\n- text: If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  start_ms: 107010\n  end_ms: 109030\n- text: Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  start_ms: 109030\n  end_ms: 111830\n- text: Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n  start_ms: 111830\n  end_ms: 114640\n- text: All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  start_ms: 114640\n  end_ms: 117130\n- text: Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  start_ms: 117130\n  end_ms: 119360\n- text: Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n  start_ms: 119360\n  end_ms: 121390\n- text: It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n  start_ms: 121390\n  end_ms: 124480\n- text: Creep through the streets\n  start_ms: 124480\n  end_ms: 125420\n- text: For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  start_ms: 125420\n  end_ms: 126910\n- text: Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  start_ms: 126910\n  end_ms: 129410\n- text: Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  start_ms: 129410\n  end_ms: 132190\n- text: Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  start_ms: 132190\n  end_ms: 135580\n- text: And take casket naps, fuck that\n  start_ms: 135580\n  end_ms: 137810\n- text: You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  start_ms: 137810\n  end_ms: 139590\n- text: All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  start_ms: 139590\n  end_ms: 142410\n- text: No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  start_ms: 142410\n  end_ms: 144690\n- text: Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  start_ms: 144690\n  end_ms: 147540\n- text: So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n  start_ms: 147540\n  end_ms: 150130\n- text: Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  start_ms: 150130\n  end_ms: 153590\n- text: Drag done ate your food\n  start_ms: 153590\n  end_ms: 154860\n- text: Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  start_ms: 154860\n  end_ms: 157650\n- text: Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  start_ms: 157650\n  end_ms: 160160\n- text: Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n  start_ms: 160160\n  end_ms: 162580\n- text: I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  start_ms: 162580\n  end_ms: 164590\n- text: Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  start_ms: 164590\n  end_ms: 164770\n- text: And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  start_ms: 164770\n  end_ms: 167660\n- text: Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n  start_ms: 167660\n  end_ms: 169070\n- text: You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n  start_ms: 169070\n  end_ms: 170380\n- text: You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 170380\n  end_ms: 172750\n- text: What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  start_ms: 172750\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lot of easy walkin'\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 175780\n- text: I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  start_ms: 175780\n  end_ms: 178190\n- text: Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n  start_ms: 178190\n  end_ms: 180570\n- text: I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 180570\n  end_ms: 182620\n- text: And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  start_ms: 182620\n  end_ms: 185300\n- text: It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 185300\n  end_ms: 188200\n- text: Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  start_ms: 188200\n  end_ms: 190740\n- text: Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n  start_ms: 190740\n  end_ms: 192920\n- text: If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n  start_ms: 192920\n  end_ms: 194170\n- text: All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n  start_ms: 194170\n  end_ms: 195890\n- text: It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  start_ms: 195890\n  end_ms: 198100\n- text: Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  start_ms: 198100\n  end_ms: 200750\n- text: From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  start_ms: 200750\n  end_ms: 203410\n- text: Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n  start_ms: 203410\n  end_ms: 205090\n- text: I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n  start_ms: 205090\n  end_ms: 206150\n- text: They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  start_ms: 206150\n  end_ms: 208780\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 208780\n  end_ms: 211250\n- text: They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  start_ms: 211250\n  end_ms: 213910\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 213910\n  end_ms: 216070\n- text: They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  start_ms: 216070\n  end_ms: 218970\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 218970\n  end_ms: 221600\n- text: They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  start_ms: 221600\n  end_ms: 224220\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 224220\n  end_ms: 226650\n- text: They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  start_ms: 226650\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 231940\n- text: They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  start_ms: 231940\n  end_ms: 234360\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 234360\n  end_ms: 237070\n- text: They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  start_ms: 237070\n  end_ms: 239500\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 239500\n  end_ms: 241590\n- text: They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  start_ms: 241590\n  end_ms: 244460\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 244460\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Ayo, ayo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n  All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n  It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n  Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n  You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin'\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n  If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n  All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n  It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n  I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n  They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n"},{"id":6664416,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White)","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"…And Then There Was X","duration":262.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nFrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\nTil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nKnow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.99] Holiday Styles\n[00:03.34] Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n[00:05.99] If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n[00:07.47] I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n[00:10.18] I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n[00:12.88] If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n[00:15.20] I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n[00:17.73] Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n[00:20.07] We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n[00:22.86] My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n[00:25.56] Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n[00:28.11] Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n[00:30.44] I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n[00:33.32] Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n[00:35.77] 'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\n[00:38.22] You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n[00:40.95] You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n[00:43.08] Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n[00:46.13] And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n[00:48.59] No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n[00:51.05] Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n[00:53.56] My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n[00:56.11] What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n[00:58.68] Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n[01:01.37] Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n[01:03.99] And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n[01:06.41] I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n[01:08.80] Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n[01:11.52] You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n[01:14.10] I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n[01:16.76] From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n[01:19.22] I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n[01:21.63] Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n[01:24.05] All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n[01:26.70] A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n[01:29.31] A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n[01:31.84] Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n[01:34.40] Bet you never even felt the heat\n[01:36.24] 'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n[01:39.72] Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n[01:42.57] Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n[01:45.01] Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n[01:47.43] If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n[01:49.92] Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n[01:52.93] Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n[01:55.31] All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n[01:57.94] Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n[02:00.48] Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n[02:02.70] It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n[02:04.98] Creep through the streets\n[02:06.18] For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n[02:08.05] Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n[02:10.95] Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n[02:13.69] Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n[02:16.54] And take casket naps, fuck that\n[02:18.71] You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n[02:20.59] All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n[02:23.35] No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n[02:26.12] Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n[02:28.62] So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n[02:31.44] Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n[02:34.69] Drag done ate your food\n[02:35.95] Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n[02:38.58] Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n[02:41.04] Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n[02:43.84] I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n[02:45.79] Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n[02:47.79] When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n[02:48.65] Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n[02:50.14] You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n[02:51.31] You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n[02:53.93] What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n[02:56.46] I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n[02:59.25] Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n[03:01.65] I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n[03:04.20] And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n[03:06.86] It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n[03:09.50] Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n[03:12.19] Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n[03:15.36] All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n[03:17.38] It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n[03:19.47] Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n[03:22.02] From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n[03:24.52] Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n[03:27.37] They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n[03:29.86] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:32.14] They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n[03:34.86] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:37.21] They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n[03:39.86] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:42.48] They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n[03:45.16] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:47.55] They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n[03:50.13] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:52.64] They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n[03:55.30] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:57.88] They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n[04:00.44] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[04:02.89] They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n[04:05.43] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[04:21.99] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: …And Then There Was X\n  duration_ms: 262000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Holiday Styles\n  start_ms: 1990\n  end_ms: 3340\n- text: Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  start_ms: 3340\n  end_ms: 5990\n- text: If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  start_ms: 5990\n  end_ms: 7470\n- text: I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  start_ms: 7470\n  end_ms: 10180\n- text: I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  start_ms: 10180\n  end_ms: 12880\n- text: If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  start_ms: 12880\n  end_ms: 15200\n- text: I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n  start_ms: 15200\n  end_ms: 17730\n- text: Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n  start_ms: 17730\n  end_ms: 20070\n- text: We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  start_ms: 20070\n  end_ms: 22860\n- text: My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  start_ms: 22860\n  end_ms: 25560\n- text: Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  start_ms: 25560\n  end_ms: 28110\n- text: Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n  start_ms: 28110\n  end_ms: 30440\n- text: I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n  start_ms: 30440\n  end_ms: 33320\n- text: Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 33320\n  end_ms: 35770\n- text: '''Cause the P gonna squeeze ''til no slugs is left (what?)'\n  start_ms: 35770\n  end_ms: 38220\n- text: You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  start_ms: 38220\n  end_ms: 40950\n- text: You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n  start_ms: 40950\n  end_ms: 43080\n- text: Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  start_ms: 43080\n  end_ms: 46130\n- text: And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  start_ms: 46130\n  end_ms: 48590\n- text: No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  start_ms: 48590\n  end_ms: 51050\n- text: Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  start_ms: 51050\n  end_ms: 53560\n- text: My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  start_ms: 53560\n  end_ms: 56110\n- text: What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  start_ms: 56110\n  end_ms: 58680\n- text: Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  start_ms: 58680\n  end_ms: 61370\n- text: Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n  start_ms: 61370\n  end_ms: 63990\n- text: And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n  start_ms: 63990\n  end_ms: 66410\n- text: I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  start_ms: 66410\n  end_ms: 68800\n- text: Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  start_ms: 68800\n  end_ms: 71520\n- text: You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  start_ms: 71520\n  end_ms: 74100\n- text: I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n  start_ms: 74100\n  end_ms: 76760\n- text: From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  start_ms: 76760\n  end_ms: 79220\n- text: I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 79220\n  end_ms: 81630\n- text: Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 81630\n  end_ms: 84050\n- text: All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  start_ms: 84050\n  end_ms: 86700\n- text: A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  start_ms: 86700\n  end_ms: 89310\n- text: A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n  start_ms: 89310\n  end_ms: 91840\n- text: Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  start_ms: 91840\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Bet you never even felt the heat\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96240\n- text: '''Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease'\n  start_ms: 96240\n  end_ms: 99720\n- text: Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  start_ms: 99720\n  end_ms: 102570\n- text: Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  start_ms: 102570\n  end_ms: 105010\n- text: Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  start_ms: 105010\n  end_ms: 107430\n- text: If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  start_ms: 107430\n  end_ms: 109920\n- text: Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  start_ms: 109920\n  end_ms: 112930\n- text: Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n  start_ms: 112930\n  end_ms: 115310\n- text: All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  start_ms: 115310\n  end_ms: 117940\n- text: Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  start_ms: 117940\n  end_ms: 120480\n- text: Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  start_ms: 120480\n  end_ms: 122700\n- text: It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 122700\n  end_ms: 124980\n- text: Creep through the streets\n  start_ms: 124980\n  end_ms: 126180\n- text: For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  start_ms: 126180\n  end_ms: 128050\n- text: Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  start_ms: 128050\n  end_ms: 130950\n- text: Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  start_ms: 130950\n  end_ms: 133690\n- text: Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  start_ms: 133690\n  end_ms: 136540\n- text: And take casket naps, fuck that\n  start_ms: 136540\n  end_ms: 138710\n- text: You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  start_ms: 138710\n  end_ms: 140590\n- text: All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  start_ms: 140590\n  end_ms: 143350\n- text: No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n  start_ms: 143350\n  end_ms: 146120\n- text: Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  start_ms: 146120\n  end_ms: 148620\n- text: So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n  start_ms: 148620\n  end_ms: 151440\n- text: Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  start_ms: 151440\n  end_ms: 154690\n- text: Drag done ate your food\n  start_ms: 154690\n  end_ms: 155950\n- text: Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n  start_ms: 155950\n  end_ms: 158580\n- text: Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  start_ms: 158580\n  end_ms: 161040\n- text: Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n  start_ms: 161040\n  end_ms: 163840\n- text: I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 163840\n  end_ms: 165790\n- text: Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n  start_ms: 165790\n  end_ms: 167790\n- text: When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  start_ms: 167790\n  end_ms: 168650\n- text: Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n  start_ms: 168650\n  end_ms: 170140\n- text: You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n  start_ms: 170140\n  end_ms: 171310\n- text: You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 171310\n  end_ms: 173930\n- text: What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n  start_ms: 173930\n  end_ms: 176460\n- text: I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n  start_ms: 176460\n  end_ms: 179250\n- text: Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n  start_ms: 179250\n  end_ms: 181650\n- text: I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 181650\n  end_ms: 184200\n- text: And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  start_ms: 184200\n  end_ms: 186860\n- text: It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 186860\n  end_ms: 189500\n- text: Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  start_ms: 189500\n  end_ms: 192190\n- text: Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n  start_ms: 192190\n  end_ms: 195360\n- text: All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n  start_ms: 195360\n  end_ms: 197380\n- text: It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  start_ms: 197380\n  end_ms: 199470\n- text: Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  start_ms: 199470\n  end_ms: 202020\n- text: From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  start_ms: 202020\n  end_ms: 204520\n- text: Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n  start_ms: 204520\n  end_ms: 207370\n- text: They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  start_ms: 207370\n  end_ms: 209860\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 209860\n  end_ms: 212140\n- text: They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  start_ms: 212140\n  end_ms: 214860\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 214860\n  end_ms: 217210\n- text: They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  start_ms: 217210\n  end_ms: 219860\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 219860\n  end_ms: 222480\n- text: They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  start_ms: 222480\n  end_ms: 225160\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 225160\n  end_ms: 227550\n- text: They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  start_ms: 227550\n  end_ms: 230130\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 230130\n  end_ms: 232640\n- text: They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  start_ms: 232640\n  end_ms: 235300\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 235300\n  end_ms: 237880\n- text: They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  start_ms: 237880\n  end_ms: 240440\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 240440\n  end_ms: 242890\n- text: They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  start_ms: 242890\n  end_ms: 245430\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 245430\n  end_ms: 261990\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\n  I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  From rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  Know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":21277284,"name":"D‐X‐L (Hard White)","trackName":"D‐X‐L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"...And Then There Was X","duration":261.9591,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nFrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\nTil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nKnow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D‐X‐L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: '...And Then There Was X'\n  duration_ms: 261959\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\n  I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  From rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  Know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":21060476,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White)","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"…And Then There Was X","duration":265.0093539,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nFrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\nTil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nKnow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: …And Then There Was X\n  duration_ms: 265009\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\n  I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  From rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  Know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":20384105,"name":"D‐X‐L (Hard White)","trackName":"D‐X‐L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"…And Then There Was X","duration":258.493333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nFrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\nTil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nKnow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D‐X‐L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: …And Then There Was X\n  duration_ms: 258493\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\n  I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  From rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  Know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":14210465,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White)","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"․․․And Then There Was X","duration":261.96125,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nif I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nfrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\ntil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nknow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: ․․․And Then There Was X\n  duration_ms: 261961\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  if I ain't gettin proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\n  I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  from rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":25098485,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White)","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"…And Then There Was X","duration":277.75605,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin' proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\nI ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nAyo, ayo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\nPlay Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nFrom rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\nAll I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\n'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help, we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\nNice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\nIt's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\nDrag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nAnd you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\nYou want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin'\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\nNow don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\nIf you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\nAll that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\nIt happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\nTalkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\nFrom the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\nLet them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\nI'm dog for life! Nigga!\nThey gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.43] Holiday Styles\n[00:02.94] Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n[00:05.28] If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n[00:07.25] I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n[00:09.28] I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n[00:11.95] If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n[00:14.47] I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n[00:17.10] Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n[00:19.52] We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n[00:22.26] My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n[00:24.78] Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n[00:27.48] Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n[00:29.77] I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n[00:32.39] Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n[00:35.11] 'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n[00:37.46] You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n[00:40.21] You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n[00:42.12] Ayo, ayo\n[00:43.21] I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n[00:45.02] And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n[00:47.60] No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n[00:50.28] Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n[00:52.79] My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n[00:55.45] What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n[00:58.03] Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n[01:00.50] Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n[01:03.11] And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n[01:05.50] I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n[01:08.14] Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n[01:10.66] You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n[01:13.46] I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n[01:15.97] From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n[01:18.65] I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n[01:21.14] Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n[01:23.30] All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n[01:26.31] A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n[01:28.59] A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n[01:31.19] Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n[01:33.77] Bet you never even felt the heat\n[01:35.63] 'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n[01:39.09] Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n[01:41.81] Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n[01:44.04] Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n[01:47.01] If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n[01:49.03] Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n[01:51.83] Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n[01:54.64] All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n[01:57.13] Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n[01:59.36] Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n[02:01.39] It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n[02:04.48] Creep through the streets\n[02:05.42] For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n[02:06.91] Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n[02:09.41] Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n[02:12.19] Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n[02:15.58] And take casket naps, fuck that\n[02:17.81] You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n[02:19.59] All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n[02:22.41] No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n[02:24.69] Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n[02:27.54] So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n[02:30.13] Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n[02:33.59] Drag done ate your food\n[02:34.86] Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n[02:37.65] Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n[02:40.16] Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n[02:42.58] I don't brag I let the streets tell\n[02:44.59] Po'-po' now you see he fell\n[02:44.77] And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n[02:47.66] Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n[02:49.07] You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n[02:50.38] You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n[02:52.75] What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n[02:54.14] A lot of easy walkin'\n[02:55.78] I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n[02:58.19] Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n[03:00.57] I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n[03:02.62] And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n[03:05.30] It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n[03:08.20] Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n[03:10.74] Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n[03:12.92] If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n[03:14.17] All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n[03:15.89] It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n[03:18.10] Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n[03:20.75] From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n[03:23.41] Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n[03:25.09] I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n[03:26.15] They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:28.78] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:31.25] They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:33.91] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:36.07] They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[03:38.97] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:41.60] They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[03:44.22] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:46.65] They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:49.14] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:51.94] They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:54.36] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:57.07] They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[03:59.50] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[04:01.59] They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[04:04.46] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: …And Then There Was X\n  duration_ms: 277756\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Holiday Styles\n  start_ms: 1430\n  end_ms: 2940\n- text: Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  start_ms: 2940\n  end_ms: 5280\n- text: If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  start_ms: 5280\n  end_ms: 7250\n- text: I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  start_ms: 7250\n  end_ms: 9280\n- text: I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  start_ms: 9280\n  end_ms: 11950\n- text: If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  start_ms: 11950\n  end_ms: 14470\n- text: I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  start_ms: 14470\n  end_ms: 17100\n- text: Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  start_ms: 17100\n  end_ms: 19520\n- text: We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  start_ms: 19520\n  end_ms: 22260\n- text: My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  start_ms: 22260\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 27480\n- text: Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  start_ms: 27480\n  end_ms: 29770\n- text: I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  start_ms: 29770\n  end_ms: 32390\n- text: Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 32390\n  end_ms: 35110\n- text: '''Cause the P gon'' squeeze ''til no slugs is left (what)'\n  start_ms: 35110\n  end_ms: 37460\n- text: You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  start_ms: 37460\n  end_ms: 40210\n- text: You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  start_ms: 40210\n  end_ms: 42120\n- text: Ayo, ayo\n  start_ms: 42120\n  end_ms: 43210\n- text: I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  start_ms: 43210\n  end_ms: 45020\n- text: And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  start_ms: 45020\n  end_ms: 47600\n- text: No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  start_ms: 47600\n  end_ms: 50280\n- text: Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  start_ms: 50280\n  end_ms: 52790\n- text: My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  start_ms: 52790\n  end_ms: 55450\n- text: What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  start_ms: 55450\n  end_ms: 58030\n- text: Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  start_ms: 58030\n  end_ms: 60500\n- text: Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  start_ms: 60500\n  end_ms: 63110\n- text: And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  start_ms: 63110\n  end_ms: 65500\n- text: I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  start_ms: 65500\n  end_ms: 68140\n- text: Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  start_ms: 68140\n  end_ms: 70660\n- text: You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  start_ms: 70660\n  end_ms: 73460\n- text: I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  start_ms: 73460\n  end_ms: 75970\n- text: From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  start_ms: 75970\n  end_ms: 78650\n- text: I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  start_ms: 78650\n  end_ms: 81140\n- text: Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n  start_ms: 81140\n  end_ms: 83300\n- text: All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n  start_ms: 83300\n  end_ms: 86310\n- text: A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  start_ms: 86310\n  end_ms: 88590\n- text: A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  start_ms: 88590\n  end_ms: 91190\n- text: Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  start_ms: 91190\n  end_ms: 93770\n- text: Bet you never even felt the heat\n  start_ms: 93770\n  end_ms: 95630\n- text: '''Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease'\n  start_ms: 95630\n  end_ms: 99090\n- text: Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  start_ms: 99090\n  end_ms: 101810\n- text: Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  start_ms: 101810\n  end_ms: 104040\n- text: Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  start_ms: 104040\n  end_ms: 107010\n- text: If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  start_ms: 107010\n  end_ms: 109030\n- text: Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  start_ms: 109030\n  end_ms: 111830\n- text: Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n  start_ms: 111830\n  end_ms: 114640\n- text: All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  start_ms: 114640\n  end_ms: 117130\n- text: Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  start_ms: 117130\n  end_ms: 119360\n- text: Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n  start_ms: 119360\n  end_ms: 121390\n- text: It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n  start_ms: 121390\n  end_ms: 124480\n- text: Creep through the streets\n  start_ms: 124480\n  end_ms: 125420\n- text: For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  start_ms: 125420\n  end_ms: 126910\n- text: Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  start_ms: 126910\n  end_ms: 129410\n- text: Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  start_ms: 129410\n  end_ms: 132190\n- text: Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  start_ms: 132190\n  end_ms: 135580\n- text: And take casket naps, fuck that\n  start_ms: 135580\n  end_ms: 137810\n- text: You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  start_ms: 137810\n  end_ms: 139590\n- text: All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  start_ms: 139590\n  end_ms: 142410\n- text: No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  start_ms: 142410\n  end_ms: 144690\n- text: Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  start_ms: 144690\n  end_ms: 147540\n- text: So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n  start_ms: 147540\n  end_ms: 150130\n- text: Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  start_ms: 150130\n  end_ms: 153590\n- text: Drag done ate your food\n  start_ms: 153590\n  end_ms: 154860\n- text: Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  start_ms: 154860\n  end_ms: 157650\n- text: Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  start_ms: 157650\n  end_ms: 160160\n- text: Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n  start_ms: 160160\n  end_ms: 162580\n- text: I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  start_ms: 162580\n  end_ms: 164590\n- text: Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  start_ms: 164590\n  end_ms: 164770\n- text: And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  start_ms: 164770\n  end_ms: 167660\n- text: Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n  start_ms: 167660\n  end_ms: 169070\n- text: You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n  start_ms: 169070\n  end_ms: 170380\n- text: You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 170380\n  end_ms: 172750\n- text: What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  start_ms: 172750\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lot of easy walkin'\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 175780\n- text: I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  start_ms: 175780\n  end_ms: 178190\n- text: Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n  start_ms: 178190\n  end_ms: 180570\n- text: I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 180570\n  end_ms: 182620\n- text: And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  start_ms: 182620\n  end_ms: 185300\n- text: It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 185300\n  end_ms: 188200\n- text: Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  start_ms: 188200\n  end_ms: 190740\n- text: Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n  start_ms: 190740\n  end_ms: 192920\n- text: If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n  start_ms: 192920\n  end_ms: 194170\n- text: All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n  start_ms: 194170\n  end_ms: 195890\n- text: It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  start_ms: 195890\n  end_ms: 198100\n- text: Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  start_ms: 198100\n  end_ms: 200750\n- text: From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  start_ms: 200750\n  end_ms: 203410\n- text: Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n  start_ms: 203410\n  end_ms: 205090\n- text: I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n  start_ms: 205090\n  end_ms: 206150\n- text: They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  start_ms: 206150\n  end_ms: 208780\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 208780\n  end_ms: 211250\n- text: They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  start_ms: 211250\n  end_ms: 213910\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 213910\n  end_ms: 216070\n- text: They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  start_ms: 216070\n  end_ms: 218970\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 218970\n  end_ms: 221600\n- text: They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  start_ms: 221600\n  end_ms: 224220\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 224220\n  end_ms: 226650\n- text: They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  start_ms: 226650\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 231940\n- text: They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  start_ms: 231940\n  end_ms: 234360\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 234360\n  end_ms: 237070\n- text: They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  start_ms: 237070\n  end_ms: 239500\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 239500\n  end_ms: 241590\n- text: They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  start_ms: 241590\n  end_ms: 244460\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 244460\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Ayo, ayo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n  All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n  It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n  Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n  You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin'\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n  If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n  All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n  It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n  I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n  They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n"},{"id":35261383,"name":"D‐X‐L (Hard White)","trackName":"D‐X‐L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"…And Then There Was X","duration":265.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nFrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\nTil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nKnow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D‐X‐L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: …And Then There Was X\n  duration_ms: 265000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\n  I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  From rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  Know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":28689757,"name":"D‐X‐L (Hard White)","trackName":"D‐X‐L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"…And Then There Was X","duration":278.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nFrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\nTil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nKnow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D‐X‐L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: …And Then There Was X\n  duration_ms: 278000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\n  I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  From rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  Know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":16265468,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White)","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"[A] ...And Then There Was X","duration":262.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nif I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nfrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\ntil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nknow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: '[A] ...And Then There Was X'\n  duration_ms: 262000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  if I ain't gettin proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\n  I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  from rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":23427482,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White)","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"...And Then There Was X [Clean]","duration":261.911625,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin' proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\nI ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nAyo, ayo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\nPlay Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nFrom rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\nAll I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\n'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help, we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\nNice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\nIt's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\nDrag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nAnd you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\nYou want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin'\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\nNow don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\nIf you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\nAll that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\nIt happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\nTalkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\nFrom the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\nLet them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\nI'm dog for life! Nigga!\nThey gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.43] Holiday Styles\n[00:02.94] Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n[00:05.28] If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n[00:07.25] I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n[00:09.28] I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n[00:11.95] If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n[00:14.47] I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n[00:17.10] Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n[00:19.52] We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n[00:22.26] My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n[00:24.78] Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n[00:27.48] Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n[00:29.77] I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n[00:32.39] Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n[00:35.11] 'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n[00:37.46] You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n[00:40.21] You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n[00:42.12] Ayo, ayo\n[00:43.21] I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n[00:45.02] And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n[00:47.60] No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n[00:50.28] Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n[00:52.79] My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n[00:55.45] What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n[00:58.03] Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n[01:00.50] Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n[01:03.11] And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n[01:05.50] I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n[01:08.14] Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n[01:10.66] You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n[01:13.46] I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n[01:15.97] From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n[01:18.65] I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n[01:21.14] Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n[01:23.30] All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n[01:26.31] A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n[01:28.59] A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n[01:31.19] Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n[01:33.77] Bet you never even felt the heat\n[01:35.63] 'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n[01:39.09] Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n[01:41.81] Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n[01:44.04] Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n[01:47.01] If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n[01:49.03] Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n[01:51.83] Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n[01:54.64] All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n[01:57.13] Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n[01:59.36] Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n[02:01.39] It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n[02:04.48] Creep through the streets\n[02:05.42] For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n[02:06.91] Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n[02:09.41] Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n[02:12.19] Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n[02:15.58] And take casket naps, fuck that\n[02:17.81] You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n[02:19.59] All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n[02:22.41] No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n[02:24.69] Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n[02:27.54] So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n[02:30.13] Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n[02:33.59] Drag done ate your food\n[02:34.86] Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n[02:37.65] Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n[02:40.16] Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n[02:42.58] I don't brag I let the streets tell\n[02:44.59] Po'-po' now you see he fell\n[02:44.77] And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n[02:47.66] Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n[02:49.07] You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n[02:50.38] You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n[02:52.75] What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n[02:54.14] A lot of easy walkin'\n[02:55.78] I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n[02:58.19] Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n[03:00.57] I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n[03:02.62] And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n[03:05.30] It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n[03:08.20] Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n[03:10.74] Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n[03:12.92] If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n[03:14.17] All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n[03:15.89] It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n[03:18.10] Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n[03:20.75] From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n[03:23.41] Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n[03:25.09] I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n[03:26.15] They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:28.78] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:31.25] They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:33.91] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:36.07] They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[03:38.97] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:41.60] They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[03:44.22] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:46.65] They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:49.14] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:51.94] They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:54.36] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:57.07] They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[03:59.50] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[04:01.59] They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[04:04.46] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: '...And Then There Was X [Clean]'\n  duration_ms: 261912\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Holiday Styles\n  start_ms: 1430\n  end_ms: 2940\n- text: Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  start_ms: 2940\n  end_ms: 5280\n- text: If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  start_ms: 5280\n  end_ms: 7250\n- text: I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  start_ms: 7250\n  end_ms: 9280\n- text: I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  start_ms: 9280\n  end_ms: 11950\n- text: If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  start_ms: 11950\n  end_ms: 14470\n- text: I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  start_ms: 14470\n  end_ms: 17100\n- text: Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  start_ms: 17100\n  end_ms: 19520\n- text: We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  start_ms: 19520\n  end_ms: 22260\n- text: My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  start_ms: 22260\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 27480\n- text: Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  start_ms: 27480\n  end_ms: 29770\n- text: I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  start_ms: 29770\n  end_ms: 32390\n- text: Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 32390\n  end_ms: 35110\n- text: '''Cause the P gon'' squeeze ''til no slugs is left (what)'\n  start_ms: 35110\n  end_ms: 37460\n- text: You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  start_ms: 37460\n  end_ms: 40210\n- text: You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  start_ms: 40210\n  end_ms: 42120\n- text: Ayo, ayo\n  start_ms: 42120\n  end_ms: 43210\n- text: I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  start_ms: 43210\n  end_ms: 45020\n- text: And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  start_ms: 45020\n  end_ms: 47600\n- text: No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  start_ms: 47600\n  end_ms: 50280\n- text: Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  start_ms: 50280\n  end_ms: 52790\n- text: My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  start_ms: 52790\n  end_ms: 55450\n- text: What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  start_ms: 55450\n  end_ms: 58030\n- text: Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  start_ms: 58030\n  end_ms: 60500\n- text: Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  start_ms: 60500\n  end_ms: 63110\n- text: And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  start_ms: 63110\n  end_ms: 65500\n- text: I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  start_ms: 65500\n  end_ms: 68140\n- text: Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  start_ms: 68140\n  end_ms: 70660\n- text: You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  start_ms: 70660\n  end_ms: 73460\n- text: I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  start_ms: 73460\n  end_ms: 75970\n- text: From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  start_ms: 75970\n  end_ms: 78650\n- text: I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  start_ms: 78650\n  end_ms: 81140\n- text: Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n  start_ms: 81140\n  end_ms: 83300\n- text: All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n  start_ms: 83300\n  end_ms: 86310\n- text: A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  start_ms: 86310\n  end_ms: 88590\n- text: A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  start_ms: 88590\n  end_ms: 91190\n- text: Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  start_ms: 91190\n  end_ms: 93770\n- text: Bet you never even felt the heat\n  start_ms: 93770\n  end_ms: 95630\n- text: '''Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease'\n  start_ms: 95630\n  end_ms: 99090\n- text: Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  start_ms: 99090\n  end_ms: 101810\n- text: Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  start_ms: 101810\n  end_ms: 104040\n- text: Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  start_ms: 104040\n  end_ms: 107010\n- text: If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  start_ms: 107010\n  end_ms: 109030\n- text: Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  start_ms: 109030\n  end_ms: 111830\n- text: Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n  start_ms: 111830\n  end_ms: 114640\n- text: All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  start_ms: 114640\n  end_ms: 117130\n- text: Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  start_ms: 117130\n  end_ms: 119360\n- text: Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n  start_ms: 119360\n  end_ms: 121390\n- text: It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n  start_ms: 121390\n  end_ms: 124480\n- text: Creep through the streets\n  start_ms: 124480\n  end_ms: 125420\n- text: For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  start_ms: 125420\n  end_ms: 126910\n- text: Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  start_ms: 126910\n  end_ms: 129410\n- text: Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  start_ms: 129410\n  end_ms: 132190\n- text: Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  start_ms: 132190\n  end_ms: 135580\n- text: And take casket naps, fuck that\n  start_ms: 135580\n  end_ms: 137810\n- text: You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  start_ms: 137810\n  end_ms: 139590\n- text: All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  start_ms: 139590\n  end_ms: 142410\n- text: No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  start_ms: 142410\n  end_ms: 144690\n- text: Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  start_ms: 144690\n  end_ms: 147540\n- text: So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n  start_ms: 147540\n  end_ms: 150130\n- text: Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  start_ms: 150130\n  end_ms: 153590\n- text: Drag done ate your food\n  start_ms: 153590\n  end_ms: 154860\n- text: Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  start_ms: 154860\n  end_ms: 157650\n- text: Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  start_ms: 157650\n  end_ms: 160160\n- text: Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n  start_ms: 160160\n  end_ms: 162580\n- text: I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  start_ms: 162580\n  end_ms: 164590\n- text: Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  start_ms: 164590\n  end_ms: 164770\n- text: And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  start_ms: 164770\n  end_ms: 167660\n- text: Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n  start_ms: 167660\n  end_ms: 169070\n- text: You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n  start_ms: 169070\n  end_ms: 170380\n- text: You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 170380\n  end_ms: 172750\n- text: What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  start_ms: 172750\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lot of easy walkin'\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 175780\n- text: I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  start_ms: 175780\n  end_ms: 178190\n- text: Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n  start_ms: 178190\n  end_ms: 180570\n- text: I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 180570\n  end_ms: 182620\n- text: And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  start_ms: 182620\n  end_ms: 185300\n- text: It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 185300\n  end_ms: 188200\n- text: Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  start_ms: 188200\n  end_ms: 190740\n- text: Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n  start_ms: 190740\n  end_ms: 192920\n- text: If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n  start_ms: 192920\n  end_ms: 194170\n- text: All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n  start_ms: 194170\n  end_ms: 195890\n- text: It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  start_ms: 195890\n  end_ms: 198100\n- text: Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  start_ms: 198100\n  end_ms: 200750\n- text: From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  start_ms: 200750\n  end_ms: 203410\n- text: Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n  start_ms: 203410\n  end_ms: 205090\n- text: I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n  start_ms: 205090\n  end_ms: 206150\n- text: They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  start_ms: 206150\n  end_ms: 208780\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 208780\n  end_ms: 211250\n- text: They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  start_ms: 211250\n  end_ms: 213910\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 213910\n  end_ms: 216070\n- text: They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  start_ms: 216070\n  end_ms: 218970\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 218970\n  end_ms: 221600\n- text: They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  start_ms: 221600\n  end_ms: 224220\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 224220\n  end_ms: 226650\n- text: They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  start_ms: 226650\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 231940\n- text: They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  start_ms: 231940\n  end_ms: 234360\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 234360\n  end_ms: 237070\n- text: They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  start_ms: 237070\n  end_ms: 239500\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 239500\n  end_ms: 241590\n- text: They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  start_ms: 241590\n  end_ms: 244460\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 244460\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Ayo, ayo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n  All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n  It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n  Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n  You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin'\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n  If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n  All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n  It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n  I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n  They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n"},{"id":14119545,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White) [Featuring","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White) [Featuring","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"...And Then There Was X","duration":261.479,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't getting proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\nI ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n\nMy niggas sell crack with a package of dimes\nHundred or more in front of the store, waiting to bubble\nBrand-new nine and an eight in a bubble\nI put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayyo)\n\nAyyo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy getting niggas trying to cuff the God\nPlay Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n\nAnd it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talking to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm trying to leave my kids some real fucking change when I die\nFrom rapping or telling some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo, yo, yo)\n\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, 80 bricks\nBreak 'em down to all 20s, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\n'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love Lox (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\nNice size techs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada, mwah, responsible for breaking your heart (uh), uh\n\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the security? Protecting my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em nodding off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that, you shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dying? It's no problem, no lying\nDrag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag-On ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner, but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell, po-po now you see he fell (uh, uh, uh)\n\nNow you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak, you wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talking (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\nI bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\nAin't tryna talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n\nIt can get dark for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\nNow don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rolling\nWith what you ain't ready to handle (uh)\nAll that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\nIt happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\nTalking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\nFrom the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\nLet them cats spit that weak shit (what?), I'm dog for life, nigga\n\nThey gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need extra jails and extra cops\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need extra chains and extra watches\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n\nThey gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need extra jails and extra cops\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need extra chains and extra watches\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.14] Holiday Styles\n[00:03.39] Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n[00:05.79] If I ain't getting proper respect\n[00:07.53] I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n[00:10.10] I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n[00:12.76] If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n[00:15.39] I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n[00:17.67] Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n[00:20.19] We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n[00:23.04] My niggas sell crack with a package of dimes\n[00:25.60] Hundred or more in front of the store, waiting to bubble\n[00:28.51] Brand-new nine and an eight in a bubble\n[00:30.49] I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n[00:33.11] Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n[00:35.52] 'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\n[00:38.20] You know I'm good with a hundred of dro, gun and an O\n[00:40.93] You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayyo)\n[00:43.25] Ayyo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n[00:46.00] And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n[00:48.62] No pussy getting niggas trying to cuff the God\n[00:51.02] Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n[00:53.35] My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n[00:56.12] What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n[00:58.96] Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n[01:01.40] Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n[01:03.99] And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n[01:06.35] I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n[01:09.08] Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talking to you\n[01:11.60] You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n[01:14.05] I'm trying to leave my kids some real fucking change when I die\n[01:16.94] From rapping or telling some cat to reach for the sky\n[01:19.34] I'm that hunt down nigga with the four pound nigga\n[01:21.84] Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo, yo, yo)\n[01:23.84] All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n[01:26.88] A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n[01:29.54] A town where money is coming, 80 bricks\n[01:32.01] Break 'em down to all 20s, is a crazy flip\n[01:34.67] Bet you never even felt the heat\n[01:36.42] 'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n[01:39.62] Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n[01:42.44] Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n[01:44.76] Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n[01:47.47] If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n[01:49.99] Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n[01:52.88] Same niggas that-a rob you love Lox (uh)\n[01:55.52] All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n[01:57.92] Nice size techs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n[02:00.48] Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n[02:02.88] It's Jada, mwah, responsible for breaking your heart (uh), uh\n[02:05.20] Creep through the streets\n[02:06.10] For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n[02:08.06] Me the security? Protecting my body? I let my shotty guard\n[02:10.94] Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n[02:13.86] Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em nodding off\n[02:16.72] And take casket naps, fuck that, you shoulda never let this bastard rap\n[02:20.85] All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n[02:23.45] No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n[02:26.18] Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n[02:28.68] So you dying? It's no problem, no lying\n[02:31.67] Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n[02:34.47] Drag-On ate your food\n[02:36.16] Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n[02:38.82] Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n[02:41.21] Drag scorch niggaz for dinner, but season 'em well\n[02:43.85] I don't brag I let the streets tell, po-po now you see he fell (uh, uh, uh)\n[02:45.54] Now you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n[02:49.08] Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak, you wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n[02:51.65] You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talking (uh-huh)\n[02:54.19] What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n[02:56.52] I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n[02:59.28] Ain't tryna talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n[03:01.83] I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n[03:04.18] And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n[03:06.85] It can get dark for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n[03:09.53] Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n[03:12.27] Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rolling\n[03:14.37] With what you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n[03:15.55] All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n[03:17.36] It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n[03:19.66] Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n[03:22.15] From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n[03:24.66] Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?), I'm dog for life, nigga\n[03:27.82] They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:29.69] They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:32.23] They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:34.75] They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:37.44] They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[03:39.98] They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:42.63] They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[03:45.12] They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:47.64] They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:50.20] They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:52.78] They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:55.47] They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:57.92] They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[04:00.63] They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[04:02.92] They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[04:05.62] They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[04:08.69] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White) [Featuring\n  artist: DMX\n  album: '...And Then There Was X'\n  duration_ms: 261479\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Holiday Styles\n  start_ms: 2140\n  end_ms: 3390\n- text: Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  start_ms: 3390\n  end_ms: 5790\n- text: If I ain't getting proper respect\n  start_ms: 5790\n  end_ms: 7530\n- text: I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  start_ms: 7530\n  end_ms: 10100\n- text: I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  start_ms: 10100\n  end_ms: 12760\n- text: If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  start_ms: 12760\n  end_ms: 15390\n- text: I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  start_ms: 15390\n  end_ms: 17670\n- text: Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  start_ms: 17670\n  end_ms: 20190\n- text: We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  start_ms: 20190\n  end_ms: 23040\n- text: My niggas sell crack with a package of dimes\n  start_ms: 23040\n  end_ms: 25600\n- text: Hundred or more in front of the store, waiting to bubble\n  start_ms: 25600\n  end_ms: 28510\n- text: Brand-new nine and an eight in a bubble\n  start_ms: 28510\n  end_ms: 30490\n- text: I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n  start_ms: 30490\n  end_ms: 33110\n- text: Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 33110\n  end_ms: 35520\n- text: '''Cause the P gonna squeeze ''til no slugs is left (what?)'\n  start_ms: 35520\n  end_ms: 38200\n- text: You know I'm good with a hundred of dro, gun and an O\n  start_ms: 38200\n  end_ms: 40930\n- text: You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayyo)\n  start_ms: 40930\n  end_ms: 43250\n- text: Ayyo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  start_ms: 43250\n  end_ms: 46000\n- text: And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  start_ms: 46000\n  end_ms: 48620\n- text: No pussy getting niggas trying to cuff the God\n  start_ms: 48620\n  end_ms: 51020\n- text: Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  start_ms: 51020\n  end_ms: 53350\n- text: My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  start_ms: 53350\n  end_ms: 56120\n- text: What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  start_ms: 56120\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 61400\n- text: Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  start_ms: 61400\n  end_ms: 63990\n- text: And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n  start_ms: 63990\n  end_ms: 66350\n- text: I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  start_ms: 66350\n  end_ms: 69080\n- text: Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talking to you\n  start_ms: 69080\n  end_ms: 71600\n- text: You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  start_ms: 71600\n  end_ms: 74050\n- text: I'm trying to leave my kids some real fucking change when I die\n  start_ms: 74050\n  end_ms: 76940\n- text: From rapping or telling some cat to reach for the sky\n  start_ms: 76940\n  end_ms: 79340\n- text: I'm that hunt down nigga with the four pound nigga\n  start_ms: 79340\n  end_ms: 81840\n- text: Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo, yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 81840\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 86880\n- text: A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  start_ms: 86880\n  end_ms: 89540\n- text: A town where money is coming, 80 bricks\n  start_ms: 89540\n  end_ms: 92010\n- text: Break 'em down to all 20s, is a crazy flip\n  start_ms: 92010\n  end_ms: 94670\n- text: Bet you never even felt the heat\n  start_ms: 94670\n  end_ms: 96420\n- text: '''Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease'\n  start_ms: 96420\n  end_ms: 99620\n- text: Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  start_ms: 99620\n  end_ms: 102440\n- text: Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  start_ms: 102440\n  end_ms: 104760\n- text: Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  start_ms: 104760\n  end_ms: 107470\n- text: If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  start_ms: 107470\n  end_ms: 109990\n- text: Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  start_ms: 109990\n  end_ms: 112880\n- text: Same niggas that-a rob you love Lox (uh)\n  start_ms: 112880\n  end_ms: 115520\n- text: All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  start_ms: 115520\n  end_ms: 117920\n- text: Nice size techs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  start_ms: 117920\n  end_ms: 120480\n- text: Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  start_ms: 120480\n  end_ms: 122880\n- text: It's Jada, mwah, responsible for breaking your heart (uh), uh\n  start_ms: 122880\n  end_ms: 125200\n- text: Creep through the streets\n  start_ms: 125200\n  end_ms: 126100\n- text: For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  start_ms: 126100\n  end_ms: 128060\n- text: Me the security? Protecting my body? I let my shotty guard\n  start_ms: 128060\n  end_ms: 130940\n- text: Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  start_ms: 130940\n  end_ms: 133860\n- text: Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em nodding off\n  start_ms: 133860\n  end_ms: 136720\n- text: And take casket naps, fuck that, you shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  start_ms: 136720\n  end_ms: 140850\n- text: All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  start_ms: 140850\n  end_ms: 143450\n- text: No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  start_ms: 143450\n  end_ms: 146180\n- text: Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  start_ms: 146180\n  end_ms: 148680\n- text: So you dying? It's no problem, no lying\n  start_ms: 148680\n  end_ms: 151670\n- text: Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  start_ms: 151670\n  end_ms: 154470\n- text: Drag-On ate your food\n  start_ms: 154470\n  end_ms: 156160\n- text: Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  start_ms: 156160\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 161210\n- text: Drag scorch niggaz for dinner, but season 'em well\n  start_ms: 161210\n  end_ms: 163850\n- text: I don't brag I let the streets tell, po-po now you see he fell (uh, uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 163850\n  end_ms: 165540\n- text: Now you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  start_ms: 165540\n  end_ms: 169080\n- text: Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak, you wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n  start_ms: 169080\n  end_ms: 171650\n- text: You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talking (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 171650\n  end_ms: 174190\n- text: What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n  start_ms: 174190\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 179280\n- text: Ain't tryna talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n  start_ms: 179280\n  end_ms: 181830\n- text: I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 181830\n  end_ms: 184180\n- text: And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  start_ms: 184180\n  end_ms: 186850\n- text: It can get dark for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 186850\n  end_ms: 189530\n- text: Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  start_ms: 189530\n  end_ms: 192270\n- text: Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rolling\n  start_ms: 192270\n  end_ms: 194370\n- text: With what you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n  start_ms: 194370\n  end_ms: 195550\n- text: All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n  start_ms: 195550\n  end_ms: 197360\n- text: It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  start_ms: 197360\n  end_ms: 199660\n- text: Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  start_ms: 199660\n  end_ms: 202150\n- text: From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  start_ms: 202150\n  end_ms: 204660\n- text: Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?), I'm dog for life, nigga\n  start_ms: 204660\n  end_ms: 207820\n- text: They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  start_ms: 207820\n  end_ms: 209690\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 209690\n  end_ms: 212230\n- text: They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  start_ms: 212230\n  end_ms: 214750\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 214750\n  end_ms: 217440\n- text: They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  start_ms: 217440\n  end_ms: 219980\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 219980\n  end_ms: 222630\n- text: They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  start_ms: 222630\n  end_ms: 225120\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 225120\n  end_ms: 227640\n- text: They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  start_ms: 227640\n  end_ms: 230200\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 230200\n  end_ms: 232780\n- text: They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  start_ms: 232780\n  end_ms: 235470\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 235470\n  end_ms: 237920\n- text: They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  start_ms: 237920\n  end_ms: 240630\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 240630\n  end_ms: 242920\n- text: They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  start_ms: 242920\n  end_ms: 245620\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 245620\n  end_ms: 248690\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 248690\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't getting proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n\n  My niggas sell crack with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more in front of the store, waiting to bubble\n  Brand-new nine and an eight in a bubble\n  I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayyo)\n\n  Ayyo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy getting niggas trying to cuff the God\n  Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n\n  And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talking to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm trying to leave my kids some real fucking change when I die\n  From rapping or telling some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo, yo, yo)\n\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, 80 bricks\n  Break 'em down to all 20s, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love Lox (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  Nice size techs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada, mwah, responsible for breaking your heart (uh), uh\n\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the security? Protecting my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em nodding off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that, you shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dying? It's no problem, no lying\n  Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag-On ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner, but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell, po-po now you see he fell (uh, uh, uh)\n\n  Now you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak, you wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talking (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n  I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryna talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n\n  It can get dark for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rolling\n  With what you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n  All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n  It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?), I'm dog for life, nigga\n\n  They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n\n  They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n"},{"id":37436519,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White) (Feat. the","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White) (Feat. the","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"...and Then There Was X","duration":262.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin' proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\nI ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n\nMy niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\nBrand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\nI put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n\nAyo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\nPlay Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n\nAnd it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nWhy I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\nFrom rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\nBounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is comin', 80 bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\n'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\nNice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tell from my auras no morals\n\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\nDrag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\nI don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n\nNow you motherfuckers know what my name means\nWhen you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\nI bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\nNow don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\nAll that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\nIt happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\nTalking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\nFrom the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\nLet them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n\nThey gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\n\nThey gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.94] Holiday Styles\n[00:03.32] Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n[00:05.97] If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n[00:07.41] I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n[00:10.13] I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n[00:12.82] If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n[00:15.23] I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n[00:17.72] Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n[00:20.05] We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n[00:22.88] My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n[00:25.50] Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n[00:28.18] Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n[00:30.48] I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n[00:33.35] Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n[00:35.75] 'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\n[00:38.30] You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n[00:40.94] You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n[00:43.01] Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n[00:46.10] And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n[00:48.55] No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n[00:51.02] Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n[00:53.53] My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n[00:56.14] What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n[00:58.69] Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n[01:01.34] Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n[01:03.98] And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n[01:06.44] I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n[01:08.84] Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n[01:11.50] You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n[01:14.10] I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n[01:16.76] From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n[01:19.25] I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n[01:21.62] Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n[01:24.03] All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n[01:26.76] A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n[01:29.36] A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n[01:31.85] Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n[01:34.40] Bet you never even felt the heat\n[01:36.27] 'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n[01:39.70] Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n[01:42.50] Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n[01:45.06] Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n[01:47.49] If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n[01:49.98] Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n[01:52.92] Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n[01:55.33] All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n[01:57.97] Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n[02:00.47] Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n[02:02.74] It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n[02:04.96] Creep through the streets\n[02:06.11] For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n[02:08.07] Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n[02:10.89] Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n[02:13.66] Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n[02:16.56] And take casket naps, fuck that\n[02:18.74] You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n[02:20.55] All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n[02:23.30] No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n[02:26.18] Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n[02:28.65] So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n[02:31.49] Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n[02:34.64] Drag done ate your food\n[02:35.98] Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n[02:38.52] Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n[02:41.06] Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n[02:43.86] I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n[02:45.77] Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n[02:47.72] When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n[02:48.66] Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n[02:50.14] You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n[02:51.33] You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n[02:53.94] What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n[02:56.41] I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n[02:59.20] Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n[03:01.62] I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n[03:04.22] And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n[03:06.84] It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n[03:09.50] Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n[03:12.18] Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n[03:15.38] All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n[03:17.35] It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n[03:19.41] Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n[03:22.03] From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n[03:24.54] Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n[03:27.37] They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n[03:29.89] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:32.18] They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n[03:34.80] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:37.20] They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n[03:39.86] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:42.44] They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n[03:45.10] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:47.59] They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n[03:50.13] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:52.61] They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n[03:55.36] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:57.89] They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n[04:00.48] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[04:02.80] They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n[04:05.45] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[04:07.61] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White) (Feat. the\n  artist: DMX\n  album: '...and Then There Was X'\n  duration_ms: 261590\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Holiday Styles\n  start_ms: 1940\n  end_ms: 3320\n- text: Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  start_ms: 3320\n  end_ms: 5970\n- text: If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  start_ms: 5970\n  end_ms: 7410\n- text: I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  start_ms: 7410\n  end_ms: 10130\n- text: I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  start_ms: 10130\n  end_ms: 12820\n- text: If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  start_ms: 12820\n  end_ms: 15230\n- text: I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n  start_ms: 15230\n  end_ms: 17720\n- text: Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n  start_ms: 17720\n  end_ms: 20050\n- text: We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  start_ms: 20050\n  end_ms: 22880\n- text: My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  start_ms: 22880\n  end_ms: 25500\n- text: Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  start_ms: 25500\n  end_ms: 28180\n- text: Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n  start_ms: 28180\n  end_ms: 30480\n- text: I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n  start_ms: 30480\n  end_ms: 33350\n- text: Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 33350\n  end_ms: 35750\n- text: '''Cause the P gonna squeeze ''til no slugs is left (what?)'\n  start_ms: 35750\n  end_ms: 38300\n- text: You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  start_ms: 38300\n  end_ms: 40940\n- text: You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n  start_ms: 40940\n  end_ms: 43010\n- text: Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  start_ms: 43010\n  end_ms: 46100\n- text: And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  start_ms: 46100\n  end_ms: 48550\n- text: No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  start_ms: 48550\n  end_ms: 51020\n- text: Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  start_ms: 51020\n  end_ms: 53530\n- text: My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  start_ms: 53530\n  end_ms: 56140\n- text: What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  start_ms: 56140\n  end_ms: 58690\n- text: Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  start_ms: 58690\n  end_ms: 61340\n- text: Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n  start_ms: 61340\n  end_ms: 63980\n- text: And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n  start_ms: 63980\n  end_ms: 66440\n- text: I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  start_ms: 66440\n  end_ms: 68840\n- text: Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  start_ms: 68840\n  end_ms: 71500\n- text: You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  start_ms: 71500\n  end_ms: 74100\n- text: I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n  start_ms: 74100\n  end_ms: 76760\n- text: From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  start_ms: 76760\n  end_ms: 79250\n- text: I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 79250\n  end_ms: 81620\n- text: Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 81620\n  end_ms: 84030\n- text: All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  start_ms: 84030\n  end_ms: 86760\n- text: A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  start_ms: 86760\n  end_ms: 89360\n- text: A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n  start_ms: 89360\n  end_ms: 91850\n- text: Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  start_ms: 91850\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Bet you never even felt the heat\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96270\n- text: '''Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease'\n  start_ms: 96270\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102500\n- text: Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  start_ms: 102500\n  end_ms: 105060\n- text: Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  start_ms: 105060\n  end_ms: 107490\n- text: If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  start_ms: 107490\n  end_ms: 109980\n- text: Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  start_ms: 109980\n  end_ms: 112920\n- text: Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n  start_ms: 112920\n  end_ms: 115330\n- text: All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  start_ms: 115330\n  end_ms: 117970\n- text: Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  start_ms: 117970\n  end_ms: 120470\n- text: Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  start_ms: 120470\n  end_ms: 122740\n- text: It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 122740\n  end_ms: 124960\n- text: Creep through the streets\n  start_ms: 124960\n  end_ms: 126110\n- text: For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  start_ms: 126110\n  end_ms: 128070\n- text: Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  start_ms: 128070\n  end_ms: 130890\n- text: Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  start_ms: 130890\n  end_ms: 133660\n- text: Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  start_ms: 133660\n  end_ms: 136560\n- text: And take casket naps, fuck that\n  start_ms: 136560\n  end_ms: 138740\n- text: You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  start_ms: 138740\n  end_ms: 140550\n- text: All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  start_ms: 140550\n  end_ms: 143300\n- text: No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n  start_ms: 143300\n  end_ms: 146180\n- text: Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  start_ms: 146180\n  end_ms: 148650\n- text: So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n  start_ms: 148650\n  end_ms: 151490\n- text: Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  start_ms: 151490\n  end_ms: 154640\n- text: Drag done ate your food\n  start_ms: 154640\n  end_ms: 155980\n- text: Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n  start_ms: 155980\n  end_ms: 158520\n- text: Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  start_ms: 158520\n  end_ms: 161060\n- text: Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n  start_ms: 161060\n  end_ms: 163860\n- text: I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 163860\n  end_ms: 165770\n- text: Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n  start_ms: 165770\n  end_ms: 167720\n- text: When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  start_ms: 167720\n  end_ms: 168660\n- text: Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n  start_ms: 168660\n  end_ms: 170140\n- text: You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n  start_ms: 170140\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173940\n- text: What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n  start_ms: 173940\n  end_ms: 176410\n- text: I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n  start_ms: 176410\n  end_ms: 179200\n- text: Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n  start_ms: 179200\n  end_ms: 181620\n- text: I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 181620\n  end_ms: 184220\n- text: And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  start_ms: 184220\n  end_ms: 186840\n- text: It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 186840\n  end_ms: 189500\n- text: Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  start_ms: 189500\n  end_ms: 192180\n- text: Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n  start_ms: 192180\n  end_ms: 195380\n- text: All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n  start_ms: 195380\n  end_ms: 197350\n- text: It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  start_ms: 197350\n  end_ms: 199410\n- text: Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  start_ms: 199410\n  end_ms: 202030\n- text: From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  start_ms: 202030\n  end_ms: 204540\n- text: Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n  start_ms: 204540\n  end_ms: 207370\n- text: They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  start_ms: 207370\n  end_ms: 209890\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 209890\n  end_ms: 212180\n- text: They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  start_ms: 212180\n  end_ms: 214800\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 214800\n  end_ms: 217200\n- text: They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  start_ms: 217200\n  end_ms: 219860\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 219860\n  end_ms: 222440\n- text: They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  start_ms: 222440\n  end_ms: 225100\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 225100\n  end_ms: 227590\n- text: They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  start_ms: 227590\n  end_ms: 230130\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 230130\n  end_ms: 232610\n- text: They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  start_ms: 232610\n  end_ms: 235360\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 235360\n  end_ms: 237890\n- text: They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  start_ms: 237890\n  end_ms: 240480\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 240480\n  end_ms: 242800\n- text: They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  start_ms: 242800\n  end_ms: 245450\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 245450\n  end_ms: 247610\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247610\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n\n  My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n\n  Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n\n  And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n  From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n  Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n  I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n\n  Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n  When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n  I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n  All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n  It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n\n  They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n\n  They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n"},{"id":20066454,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White) - DMX feat. The LOX & Drag‐On","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White) - DMX feat. The LOX & Drag‐On","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"…And Then There Was X","duration":261.937813,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nif I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nfrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\ntil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nknow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White) - DMX feat. The LOX & Drag‐On\n  artist: DMX\n  album: …And Then There Was X\n  duration_ms: 261938\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  if I ain't gettin proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\n  I ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  from rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":11404136,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White)","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX, Drag-On, The LOX","albumName":"...And Then There Was X","duration":262.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nif I ain't gettin proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin to die\nI ain't tryin to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggaz sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggaz think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\nCause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nYo, aiyyo, aiyyo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\nPlay Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nfrom rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\ntil I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help; we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\nNice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\nUh\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\nDrag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nUh, uh, now you motherfuckers\nknow what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the...","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.15]Holiday Styles\n[00:03.30]Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n[00:05.71]If I ain't getting proper respect\n[00:07.54]I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n[00:10.10]I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n[00:12.74]If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n[00:15.32]I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n[00:17.67]Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n[00:20.11]We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n[00:23.03]My niggas sell crack with a package of dimes\n[00:25.62]Hundred or more in front of the store, waiting to bubble\n[00:28.53]Brand-new nine and an eight in a bubble\n[00:30.41]I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n[00:33.14]Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n[00:35.58]'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\n[00:38.20]You know I'm good with a hundred of dro, gun and an O\n[00:40.98]You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayyo)\n[00:43.28]Ayyo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n[00:46.05]And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n[00:48.64]No pussy getting niggas trying to cuff the God\n[00:51.09]Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n[00:53.34]My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n[00:56.11]What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n[00:58.99]Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n[01:01.45]Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n[01:03.92]And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n[01:06.32]I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n[01:09.04]Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talking to you\n[01:11.59]You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n[01:14.04]I'm trying to leave my kids some real fucking change when I die\n[01:16.98]From rapping or telling some cat to reach for the sky\n[01:19.34]I'm that hunt down nigga with the four pound nigga\n[01:21.84]Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo, yo, yo)\n[01:23.89]All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n[01:26.89]A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n[01:29.55]A town where money is coming, 80 bricks\n[01:32.04]Break 'em down to all 20s, is a crazy flip\n[01:34.61]Bet you never even felt the heat\n[01:36.43]'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n[01:39.66]Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n[01:42.45]Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n[01:44.75]Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n[01:47.40]If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n[01:49.96]Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n[01:52.80]Same niggas that-a rob you love Lox (uh)\n[01:55.59]All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n[01:57.96]Nice size techs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n[02:00.48]Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n[02:02.87]It's Jada, mwah, responsible for breaking your heart (uh), uh\n[02:05.22]Creep through the streets\n[02:06.12]For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n[02:08.07]Me the security? Protecting my body? I let my shotty guard\n[02:10.97]Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n[02:13.84]Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em nodding off\n[02:16.76]And take casket naps, fuck that, you shoulda never let this bastard rap\n[02:20.81]All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n[02:23.46]No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n[02:26.18]Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n[02:28.67]So you dying? It's no problem, no lying\n[02:31.66]Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n[02:34.43]Drag-On ate your food\n[02:36.14]Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n[02:38.80]Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n[02:41.28]Drag scorch niggaz for dinner, but season 'em well\n[02:43.84]I don't brag I let the streets tell, po-po now you see he fell (uh, uh, uh)\n[02:45.59]Now you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n[02:49.03]Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak, you wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n[02:51.68]You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talking (uh-huh)\n[02:54.11]What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n[02:56.56]I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n[02:59.25]Ain't tryna talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n[03:01.86]I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n[03:04.12]And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n[03:06.85]It can get dark for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n[03:09.53]Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n[03:12.22]Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rolling\n[03:14.34]With what you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n[03:15.50]All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n[03:17.30]It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n[03:19.61]Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n[03:22.12]From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n[03:24.63]Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?), I'm dog for life, nigga\n[03:27.89]They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:29.68]They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:32.27]They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:34.75]They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:37.40]They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[03:39.93]They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:42.64]They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[03:45.16]They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:47.69]They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:50.28]They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:52.70]They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:55.49]They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[03:57.96]They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[04:00.64]They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n[04:02.99]They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[04:05.69]They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX, Drag-On, The LOX\n  album: '...And Then There Was X'\n  duration_ms: 262000\n  instrumental: false\n  language: en\nlines:\n- text: Holiday Styles\n  start_ms: 2150\n  end_ms: 3130\n  words:\n  - text: 'Holiday '\n    start_ms: 2150\n  - text: Styles\n    start_ms: 2610\n- text: Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  start_ms: 3300\n  end_ms: 5710\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bitch, '\n    start_ms: 3300\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 3814\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 3903\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 4044\n  - text: 'shot '\n    start_ms: 4185\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 4399\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 4487\n  - text: 'head '\n    start_ms: 4629\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 4877\n  - text: 'shot '\n    start_ms: 5037\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 5249\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 5320\n  - text: neck\n    start_ms: 5497\n- text: If I ain't getting proper respect\n  start_ms: 5710\n  end_ms: 7210\n  words:\n  - text: 'If '\n    start_ms: 5710\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 5930\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 6010\n  - text: 'getting '\n    start_ms: 6170\n  - text: 'proper '\n    start_ms: 6410\n  - text: respect\n    start_ms: 6750\n- text: I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  start_ms: 7540\n  end_ms: 9860\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 7540\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 7720\n  - text: 'care '\n    start_ms: 7920\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 8120\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 8280\n  - text: 'rap, '\n    start_ms: 8420\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 8640\n  - text: 'still '\n    start_ms: 8760\n  - text: 'spit '\n    start_ms: 9100\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 9280\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 9400\n  - text: grill\n    start_ms: 9540\n- text: I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  start_ms: 10100\n  end_ms: 12620\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 10100\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 10220\n  - text: 'give '\n    start_ms: 10440\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 10640\n  - text: 'fuck, '\n    start_ms: 10680\n  - text: 'never '\n    start_ms: 11080\n  - text: 'have, '\n    start_ms: 11420\n  - text: 'never '\n    start_ms: 12040\n  - text: will\n    start_ms: 12360\n- text: If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  start_ms: 12740\n  end_ms: 14960\n  words:\n  - text: 'If '\n    start_ms: 12740\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 12900\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 13040\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 13280\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 13460\n  - text: 'hip, '\n    start_ms: 13620\n  - text: 'then '\n    start_ms: 13900\n  - text: 'you''re '\n    start_ms: 14060\n  - text: 'lookin'' '\n    start_ms: 14240\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 14520\n  - text: die\n    start_ms: 14700\n- text: I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  start_ms: 15320\n  end_ms: 17600\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 15320\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 15360\n  - text: 'tryin'' '\n    start_ms: 15580\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 15800\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 15940\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 16060\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 16440\n  - text: 'that''s '\n    start_ms: 16460\n  - text: 'gonna '\n    start_ms: 16660\n  - text: 'look '\n    start_ms: 16860\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 17040\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 17120\n  - text: sky\n    start_ms: 17280\n- text: Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  start_ms: 17670\n  end_ms: 19910\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ask '\n    start_ms: 17670\n  - text: 'God '\n    start_ms: 17950\n  - text: 'why '\n    start_ms: 18210\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 18370\n  - text: 'broke, '\n    start_ms: 18530\n  - text: 'bitch, '\n    start_ms: 18780\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 19050\n  - text: 'cooking '\n    start_ms: 19190\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 19470\n  - text: pie\n    start_ms: 19650\n- text: We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  start_ms: 20110\n  end_ms: 22890\n  words:\n  - text: 'We '\n    start_ms: 20110\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 20310\n  - text: 'gon'' '\n    start_ms: 20470\n  - text: 'die, '\n    start_ms: 20710\n  - text: 'sooner '\n    start_ms: 21190\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 21530\n  - text: 'later, '\n    start_ms: 21670\n  - text: 'matter '\n    start_ms: 22170\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 22470\n  - text: time\n    start_ms: 22610\n- text: My niggas sell crack with a package of dimes\n  start_ms: 23030\n  end_ms: 24950\n  words:\n  - text: 'My '\n    start_ms: 23030\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 23083\n  - text: 'sell '\n    start_ms: 23150\n  - text: 'crack '\n    start_ms: 23430\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 23850\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 23990\n  - text: 'package '\n    start_ms: 24110\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 24490\n  - text: dimes\n    start_ms: 24610\n- text: Hundred or more in front of the store, waiting to bubble\n  start_ms: 25620\n  end_ms: 28220\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hundred '\n    start_ms: 25620\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 25900\n  - text: 'more '\n    start_ms: 26060\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 26300\n  - text: 'front '\n    start_ms: 26520\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 26700\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 26780\n  - text: 'store, '\n    start_ms: 26980\n  - text: 'waiting '\n    start_ms: 27500\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 27800\n  - text: bubble\n    start_ms: 27940\n- text: Brand-new nine and an eight in a bubble\n  start_ms: 28530\n  end_ms: 30410\n  words:\n  - text: Brand-\n    start_ms: 28530\n  - text: 'new '\n    start_ms: 28843\n  - text: 'nine '\n    start_ms: 29098\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 29411\n  - text: 'an '\n    start_ms: 29548\n  - text: 'eight '\n    start_ms: 29725\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 29862\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 29979\n  - text: bubble\n    start_ms: 30136\n- text: I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n  start_ms: 30410\n  end_ms: 33110\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 30410\n  - text: 'put '\n    start_ms: 30530\n  - text: '16 '\n    start_ms: 30750\n  - text: 'above '\n    start_ms: 31250\n  - text: 'ya '\n    start_ms: 31690\n  - text: 'neck, '\n    start_ms: 31870\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 32210\n  - text: 'love '\n    start_ms: 32370\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 32630\n  - text: set\n    start_ms: 32850\n- text: Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 33140\n  end_ms: 35440\n  words:\n  - text: 'Niggas '\n    start_ms: 33140\n  - text: 'think '\n    start_ms: 33400\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 33620\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 33820\n  - text: 'thug, '\n    start_ms: 33960\n  - text: 'then '\n    start_ms: 34300\n  - text: 'thug '\n    start_ms: 34500\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 34760\n  - text: 'death '\n    start_ms: 34960\n  - text: (uh-\n    start_ms: 35240\n  - text: huh)\n    start_ms: 35360\n- text: '''Cause the P gonna squeeze ''til no slugs is left (what?)'\n  start_ms: 35580\n  end_ms: 38080\n  words:\n  - text: '''Cause '\n    start_ms: 35580\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 35740\n  - text: 'P '\n    start_ms: 35940\n  - text: 'gonna '\n    start_ms: 36160\n  - text: 'squeeze '\n    start_ms: 36400\n  - text: '''til '\n    start_ms: 36760\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 36880\n  - text: 'slugs '\n    start_ms: 37120\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 37500\n  - text: 'left '\n    start_ms: 37680\n  - text: (what?)\n    start_ms: 37940\n- text: You know I'm good with a hundred of dro, gun and an O\n  start_ms: 38200\n  end_ms: 40800\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 38200\n  - text: 'know '\n    start_ms: 38300\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 38420\n  - text: 'good '\n    start_ms: 38640\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 38940\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 39120\n  - text: 'hundred '\n    start_ms: 39200\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 39480\n  - text: 'dro, '\n    start_ms: 39640\n  - text: 'gun '\n    start_ms: 40200\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 40360\n  - text: 'an '\n    start_ms: 40500\n  - text: O\n    start_ms: 40680\n- text: You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayyo)\n  start_ms: 40980\n  end_ms: 43240\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 40980\n  - text: 'think '\n    start_ms: 41140\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 41340\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 41780\n  - text: 'butter? '\n    start_ms: 41800\n  - text: 'Hop '\n    start_ms: 42120\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 42320\n  - text: 'front '\n    start_ms: 42460\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 42640\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 42720\n  - text: 'toast '\n    start_ms: 42920\n  - text: (ayyo)\n    start_ms: 43220\n- text: Ayyo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  start_ms: 43280\n  end_ms: 45720\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ayyo, '\n    start_ms: 43280\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 43600\n  - text: 'say '\n    start_ms: 43760\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 43980\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 44180\n  - text: 'want, '\n    start_ms: 44280\n  - text: 'fuck '\n    start_ms: 44740\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 44886\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 44900\n  - text: 'think '\n    start_ms: 45120\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 45340\n  - text: cool\n    start_ms: 45500\n- text: And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  start_ms: 46050\n  end_ms: 48410\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 46050\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 46250\n  - text: 'hate '\n    start_ms: 46350\n  - text: 'cops, '\n    start_ms: 46590\n  - text: '''cause '\n    start_ms: 46850\n  - text: 'most '\n    start_ms: 47030\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 47310\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 47510\n  - text: 'dicks '\n    start_ms: 47690\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 47990\n  - text: school\n    start_ms: 48130\n- text: No pussy getting niggas trying to cuff the God\n  start_ms: 48640\n  end_ms: 50820\n  words:\n  - text: 'No '\n    start_ms: 48640\n  - text: 'pussy '\n    start_ms: 49180\n  - text: 'getting '\n    start_ms: 49220\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 49599\n  - text: 'trying '\n    start_ms: 49840\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 50140\n  - text: 'cuff '\n    start_ms: 50300\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 50420\n  - text: God\n    start_ms: 50580\n- text: Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  start_ms: 51090\n  end_ms: 53270\n  words:\n  - text: 'Play '\n    start_ms: 51090\n  - text: 'Sheek '\n    start_ms: 51330\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 51630\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 51750\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 51830\n  - text: 'yard, '\n    start_ms: 51970\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 52270\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 52430\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 52670\n  - text: 'too '\n    start_ms: 52850\n  - text: hard\n    start_ms: 53030\n- text: My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  start_ms: 53340\n  end_ms: 55900\n  words:\n  - text: 'My '\n    start_ms: 53340\n  - text: 'dough '\n    start_ms: 53560\n  - text: 'too '\n    start_ms: 53800\n  - text: 'long, '\n    start_ms: 53980\n  - text: 'nowadays, '\n    start_ms: 54460\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 54980\n  - text: 'flow '\n    start_ms: 55180\n  - text: 'too '\n    start_ms: 55420\n  - text: strong\n    start_ms: 55640\n- text: What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  start_ms: 56110\n  end_ms: 58390\n  words:\n  - text: 'What '\n    start_ms: 56110\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 56270\n  - text: 'make '\n    start_ms: 56470\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 56690\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 56810\n  - text: 'year, '\n    start_ms: 56930\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 57250\n  - text: 'kick '\n    start_ms: 57370\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 57610\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 57870\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 58030\n  - text: song\n    start_ms: 58130\n- text: Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  start_ms: 58990\n  end_ms: 61290\n  words:\n  - text: 'Check '\n    start_ms: 58990\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 59230\n  - text: 'car, '\n    start_ms: 59410\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 59930\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 59990\n  - text: 'care, '\n    start_ms: 60190\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 60390\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 60550\n  - text: 'play '\n    start_ms: 60810\n  - text: fair\n    start_ms: 61090\n- text: Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  start_ms: 61450\n  end_ms: 63750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Keep '\n    start_ms: 61450\n  - text: 'some '\n    start_ms: 61650\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 62030\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 62070\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 62130\n  - text: 'stash '\n    start_ms: 62290\n  - text: 'box, '\n    start_ms: 62610\n  - text: 'then '\n    start_ms: 62890\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 63050\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 63210\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 63310\n  - text: chair\n    start_ms: 63450\n- text: And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n  start_ms: 63920\n  end_ms: 66200\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 63920\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 64039\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 64200\n  - text: 'buck '\n    start_ms: 64459\n  - text: 'shot, '\n    start_ms: 64720\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 64959\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 65029\n  - text: 'blast '\n    start_ms: 65140\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 65440\n  - text: 'hard '\n    start_ms: 65580\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 65840\n  - text: hear\n    start_ms: 65960\n- text: I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  start_ms: 66320\n  end_ms: 68720\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 66320\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 66440\n  - text: 'true '\n    start_ms: 66560\n  - text: 'thug '\n    start_ms: 66860\n  - text: 'nigga, '\n    start_ms: 67130\n  - text: 'bring '\n    start_ms: 67600\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 67780\n  - text: 'straight '\n    start_ms: 67920\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 68220\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 68340\n  - text: crew\n    start_ms: 68520\n- text: Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talking to you\n  start_ms: 69040\n  end_ms: 71260\n  words:\n  - text: 'Small '\n    start_ms: 69040\n  - text: 'yell '\n    start_ms: 69340\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 69560\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 69720\n  - text: 'rap, '\n    start_ms: 69840\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 70100\n  - text: 'basically '\n    start_ms: 70220\n  - text: 'talking '\n    start_ms: 70660\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 71020\n  - text: you\n    start_ms: 71160\n- text: You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  start_ms: 71590\n  end_ms: 73930\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 71590\n  - text: 'see '\n    start_ms: 71730\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 71850\n  - text: 'pain '\n    start_ms: 72010\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 72270\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 72350\n  - text: 'eye? '\n    start_ms: 72510\n  - text: 'Nigga, '\n    start_ms: 72730\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 73090\n  - text: 'flame '\n    start_ms: 73250\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 73530\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 73630\n  - text: eye?\n    start_ms: 73790\n- text: I'm trying to leave my kids some real fucking change when I die\n  start_ms: 74040\n  end_ms: 76500\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 74040\n  - text: 'trying '\n    start_ms: 74140\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 74340\n  - text: 'leave '\n    start_ms: 74380\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 74540\n  - text: 'kids '\n    start_ms: 74700\n  - text: 'some '\n    start_ms: 74900\n  - text: 'real '\n    start_ms: 75080\n  - text: 'fucking '\n    start_ms: 75280\n  - text: 'change '\n    start_ms: 75660\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 76040\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 76220\n  - text: die\n    start_ms: 76340\n- text: From rapping or telling some cat to reach for the sky\n  start_ms: 76980\n  end_ms: 79240\n  words:\n  - text: 'From '\n    start_ms: 76980\n  - text: 'rapping '\n    start_ms: 77180\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 77500\n  - text: 'telling '\n    start_ms: 77640\n  - text: 'some '\n    start_ms: 77920\n  - text: 'cat '\n    start_ms: 78100\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 78340\n  - text: 'reach '\n    start_ms: 78500\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 78740\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 78860\n  - text: sky\n    start_ms: 79020\n- text: I'm that hunt down nigga with the four pound nigga\n  start_ms: 79340\n  end_ms: 81380\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 79340\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 79460\n  - text: 'hunt '\n    start_ms: 79640\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 79920\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 80580\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 80600\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 80760\n  - text: 'four '\n    start_ms: 80920\n  - text: 'pound '\n    start_ms: 81140\n  - text: nigga\n    start_ms: 81299\n- text: Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo, yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 81840\n  end_ms: 83760\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bounty '\n    start_ms: 81840\n  - text: 'hunt '\n    start_ms: 82260\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 82500\n  - text: 'whole '\n    start_ms: 82680\n  - text: 'crew '\n    start_ms: 82940\n  - text: 'til '\n    start_ms: 83100\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 83380\n  - text: 'bullets '\n    start_ms: 83580\n  - text: 'go '\n    start_ms: 83743\n  - text: 'through, '\n    start_ms: 83750\n  - text: 'what? '\n    start_ms: 83756\n  - text: '(Yo, '\n    start_ms: 83760\n  - text: 'yo, '\n    start_ms: 83760\n  - text: 'yo, '\n    start_ms: 83760\n  - text: yo)\n    start_ms: 83760\n- text: All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  start_ms: 83890\n  end_ms: 86870\n  words:\n  - text: 'All '\n    start_ms: 83890\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 84090\n  - text: 'need '\n    start_ms: 84270\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 84490\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 84650\n  - text: 'big '\n    start_ms: 84830\n  - text: 'gun '\n    start_ms: 85110\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 85370\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 85510\n  - text: 'Coupe '\n    start_ms: 85670\n  - text: 'that''s '\n    start_ms: 85930\n  - text: 'crazy '\n    start_ms: 86150\n  - text: quick\n    start_ms: 86590\n- text: A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  start_ms: 86890\n  end_ms: 89370\n  words:\n  - text: 'A '\n    start_ms: 86890\n  - text: 'nice '\n    start_ms: 87030\n  - text: 'house '\n    start_ms: 87330\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 87630\n  - text: 'five '\n    start_ms: 87810\n  - text: 'rooms, '\n    start_ms: 88170\n  - text: 'maybe '\n    start_ms: 88690\n  - text: six\n    start_ms: 89110\n- text: A town where money is coming, 80 bricks\n  start_ms: 89550\n  end_ms: 92040\n  words:\n  - text: 'A '\n    start_ms: 89550\n  - text: 'town '\n    start_ms: 89707\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 90021\n  - text: 'money '\n    start_ms: 90295\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 90589\n  - text: 'coming, '\n    start_ms: 90766\n  - text: '80 '\n    start_ms: 91432\n  - text: bricks\n    start_ms: 91707\n- text: Break 'em down to all 20s, is a crazy flip\n  start_ms: 92040\n  end_ms: 94340\n  words:\n  - text: 'Break '\n    start_ms: 92040\n  - text: '''em '\n    start_ms: 92240\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 92400\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 92640\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 92780\n  - text: '20s, '\n    start_ms: 93200\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 93440\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 93560\n  - text: 'crazy '\n    start_ms: 93700\n  - text: flip\n    start_ms: 94160\n- text: Bet you never even felt the heat\n  start_ms: 94610\n  end_ms: 96290\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bet '\n    start_ms: 94610\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 94830\n  - text: 'never '\n    start_ms: 94990\n  - text: 'even '\n    start_ms: 95250\n  - text: 'felt '\n    start_ms: 95630\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 95890\n  - text: heat\n    start_ms: 96030\n- text: '''Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease'\n  start_ms: 96430\n  end_ms: 99650\n  words:\n  - text: '''Til '\n    start_ms: 96430\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 96850\n  - text: 'put '\n    start_ms: 96970\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 97170\n  - text: 'M1 '\n    start_ms: 97470\n  - text: 'next '\n    start_ms: 97950\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 98170\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 98310\n  - text: 'waves '\n    start_ms: 98470\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 98770\n  - text: 'melt '\n    start_ms: 98970\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 99210\n  - text: grease\n    start_ms: 99370\n- text: Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  start_ms: 99660\n  end_ms: 102080\n  words:\n  - text: 'Streets '\n    start_ms: 99660\n  - text: 'help '\n    start_ms: 100060\n  - text: 'niggas, '\n    start_ms: 100560\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 100810\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 101040\n  - text: 'help '\n    start_ms: 101320\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 101600\n  - text: streets\n    start_ms: 101720\n- text: Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  start_ms: 102450\n  end_ms: 104750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Y''all '\n    start_ms: 102450\n  - text: 'use '\n    start_ms: 102757\n  - text: 'beats '\n    start_ms: 103006\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 103274\n  - text: 'help, '\n    start_ms: 103408\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 103849\n  - text: 'help '\n    start_ms: 104041\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 104290\n  - text: beats\n    start_ms: 104462\n- text: Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  start_ms: 104750\n  end_ms: 107400\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 104750\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 104907\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 105064\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 105162\n  - text: 'me? '\n    start_ms: 105339\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 105673\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 105810\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 105967\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 106085\n  - text: 'Sheek? '\n    start_ms: 106242\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 106634\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 106772\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 106929\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 107027\n  - text: P?\n    start_ms: 107243\n- text: If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  start_ms: 107400\n  end_ms: 109580\n  words:\n  - text: 'If '\n    start_ms: 107400\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 107480\n  - text: 'say '\n    start_ms: 107640\n  - text: 'so '\n    start_ms: 107880\n  - text: 'myself, '\n    start_ms: 108080\n  - text: 'it''s '\n    start_ms: 108600\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 108800\n  - text: 'wonderful '\n    start_ms: 108900\n  - text: three\n    start_ms: 109380\n- text: Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  start_ms: 109960\n  end_ms: 112620\n  words:\n  - text: 'Be '\n    start_ms: 109960\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 110140\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 110260\n  - text: 'hood '\n    start_ms: 110400\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 110760\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 111080\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 111240\n  - text: 'jewels '\n    start_ms: 111440\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 111760\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 111860\n  - text: glovebox\n    start_ms: 112000\n- text: Same niggas that-a rob you love Lox (uh)\n  start_ms: 112800\n  end_ms: 115100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Same '\n    start_ms: 112800\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 113210\n  - text: that-\n    start_ms: 113420\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 113560\n  - text: 'rob '\n    start_ms: 113760\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 114140\n  - text: 'love '\n    start_ms: 114380\n  - text: 'Lox '\n    start_ms: 114700\n  - text: (uh)\n    start_ms: 115080\n- text: All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  start_ms: 115590\n  end_ms: 117960\n  words:\n  - text: 'All '\n    start_ms: 115590\n  - text: 'types '\n    start_ms: 115886\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 116182\n  - text: 'burners, '\n    start_ms: 116340\n  - text: 'even '\n    start_ms: 116834\n  - text: 'snub '\n    start_ms: 117170\n  - text: 'Glocks '\n    start_ms: 117486\n  - text: (uh)\n    start_ms: 117802\n- text: Nice size techs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  start_ms: 117960\n  end_ms: 120460\n  words:\n  - text: 'Nice '\n    start_ms: 117960\n  - text: 'size '\n    start_ms: 118240\n  - text: 'techs '\n    start_ms: 118620\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 118880\n  - text: 'could '\n    start_ms: 119000\n  - text: 'carry '\n    start_ms: 119200\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 119540\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 119640\n  - text: 'sweats '\n    start_ms: 119820\n  - text: (uh)\n    start_ms: 120140\n- text: Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  start_ms: 120480\n  end_ms: 122520\n  words:\n  - text: 'Find '\n    start_ms: 120480\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 120700\n  - text: 'man '\n    start_ms: 120860\n  - text: 'dead '\n    start_ms: 121180\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 121440\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 121540\n  - text: 'trunk '\n    start_ms: 121680\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 121940\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 122040\n  - text: 'car '\n    start_ms: 122200\n  - text: (uh)\n    start_ms: 122520\n- text: It's Jada, mwah, responsible for breaking your heart (uh), uh\n  start_ms: 122870\n  end_ms: 125220\n  words:\n  - text: 'It''s '\n    start_ms: 122870\n  - text: 'Jada, '\n    start_ms: 123012\n  - text: 'mwah, '\n    start_ms: 123404\n  - text: 'responsible '\n    start_ms: 123671\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 124259\n  - text: 'breaking '\n    start_ms: 124401\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 124704\n  - text: 'heart '\n    start_ms: 124846\n  - text: '(uh), '\n    start_ms: 125202\n  - text: uh\n    start_ms: 125220\n- text: Creep through the streets\n  start_ms: 125220\n  end_ms: 125960\n  words:\n  - text: 'Creep '\n    start_ms: 125220\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 125440\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 125560\n  - text: streets\n    start_ms: 125680\n- text: For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  start_ms: 126120\n  end_ms: 127820\n  words:\n  - text: 'For '\n    start_ms: 126120\n  - text: 'some '\n    start_ms: 126300\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 126480\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 126560\n  - text: 'rappers, '\n    start_ms: 126760\n  - text: 'that''s '\n    start_ms: 127100\n  - text: 'mighty '\n    start_ms: 127320\n  - text: hard\n    start_ms: 127580\n- text: Me the security? Protecting my body? I let my shotty guard\n  start_ms: 128070\n  end_ms: 130850\n  words:\n  - text: 'Me '\n    start_ms: 128070\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 128209\n  - text: 'security? '\n    start_ms: 128329\n  - text: 'Protecting '\n    start_ms: 128829\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 129269\n  - text: 'body? '\n    start_ms: 129430\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 129950\n  - text: 'let '\n    start_ms: 130010\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 130170\n  - text: 'shotty '\n    start_ms: 130310\n  - text: guard\n    start_ms: 130630\n- text: Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  start_ms: 130970\n  end_ms: 133670\n  words:\n  - text: 'Put '\n    start_ms: 130970\n  - text: 'chill '\n    start_ms: 131250\n  - text: 'pills '\n    start_ms: 131590\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 131890\n  - text: 'brains, '\n    start_ms: 132010\n  - text: 'bullets '\n    start_ms: 132590\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 132910\n  - text: Tylenol\n    start_ms: 133150\n- text: Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em nodding off\n  start_ms: 133840\n  end_ms: 136620\n  words:\n  - text: 'Make '\n    start_ms: 133840\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 134300\n  - text: 'drowsy '\n    start_ms: 134489\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 134920\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 135100\n  - text: 'blood '\n    start_ms: 135240\n  - text: 'loss, '\n    start_ms: 135520\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 135840\n  - text: '''em '\n    start_ms: 135960\n  - text: 'nodding '\n    start_ms: 136140\n  - text: off\n    start_ms: 136500\n- text: And take casket naps, fuck that, you shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  start_ms: 136760\n  end_ms: 140460\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 136760\n  - text: 'take '\n    start_ms: 136920\n  - text: 'casket '\n    start_ms: 137220\n  - text: 'naps, '\n    start_ms: 137680\n  - text: 'fuck '\n    start_ms: 138500\n  - text: 'that, '\n    start_ms: 138540\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 138760\n  - text: 'shoulda '\n    start_ms: 138880\n  - text: 'never '\n    start_ms: 139200\n  - text: 'let '\n    start_ms: 139460\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 139620\n  - text: 'bastard '\n    start_ms: 139840\n  - text: rap\n    start_ms: 140260\n- text: All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  start_ms: 140810\n  end_ms: 143330\n  words:\n  - text: 'All '\n    start_ms: 140810\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 141010\n  - text: 'know '\n    start_ms: 141110\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 141270\n  - text: 'cold '\n    start_ms: 141450\n  - text: 'winter, '\n    start_ms: 141730\n  - text: 'hot '\n    start_ms: 142090\n  - text: 'slugs '\n    start_ms: 142370\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 142690\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 142830\n  - text: snorkel\n    start_ms: 143010\n- text: No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  start_ms: 143460\n  end_ms: 145740\n  words:\n  - text: 'No '\n    start_ms: 143460\n  - text: 'parents, '\n    start_ms: 143700\n  - text: 'tale '\n    start_ms: 144140\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 144400\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 144540\n  - text: 'horror''s '\n    start_ms: 144680\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 145120\n  - text: morals\n    start_ms: 145360\n- text: Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  start_ms: 146180\n  end_ms: 148300\n  words:\n  - text: 'Raised '\n    start_ms: 146180\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 146480\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 146560\n  - text: 'wrong '\n    start_ms: 146720\n  - text: 'era, '\n    start_ms: 147060\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 147520\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 147700\n  - text: guidance\n    start_ms: 147940\n- text: So you dying? It's no problem, no lying\n  start_ms: 148670\n  end_ms: 151290\n  words:\n  - text: 'So '\n    start_ms: 148670\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 148870\n  - text: 'dying? '\n    start_ms: 149090\n  - text: 'It''s '\n    start_ms: 149610\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 149790\n  - text: 'problem, '\n    start_ms: 150050\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 150770\n  - text: lying\n    start_ms: 151010\n- text: Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  start_ms: 151660\n  end_ms: 154430\n  words:\n  - text: 'Drag''s '\n    start_ms: 151660\n  - text: 'fire, '\n    start_ms: 152089\n  - text: 'so '\n    start_ms: 152674\n  - text: 'ya '\n    start_ms: 152830\n  - text: 'hamburger '\n    start_ms: 153006\n  - text: 'beef? '\n    start_ms: 153552\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 153786\n  - text: french-\n    start_ms: 153903\n  - text: 'fry '\n    start_ms: 154196\n  - text: '''em'\n    start_ms: 154371\n- text: Drag-On ate your food\n  start_ms: 154430\n  end_ms: 155590\n  words:\n  - text: Drag-\n    start_ms: 154430\n  - text: 'On '\n    start_ms: 154750\n  - text: 'ate '\n    start_ms: 154970\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 155190\n  - text: food\n    start_ms: 155370\n- text: Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  start_ms: 156140\n  end_ms: 158400\n  words:\n  - text: 'Like '\n    start_ms: 156140\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 156360\n  - text: 'know '\n    start_ms: 156460\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 156620\n  - text: 'raise '\n    start_ms: 156820\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 157080\n  - text: 'dukes '\n    start_ms: 157260\n  - text: 'so '\n    start_ms: 157559\n  - text: 'guard '\n    start_ms: 157720\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 157980\n  - text: 'chin '\n    start_ms: 158140\n  - text: up\n    start_ms: 158360\n- text: Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  start_ms: 158800\n  end_ms: 161060\n  words:\n  - text: 'Drag '\n    start_ms: 158800\n  - text: 'barrels, '\n    start_ms: 159200\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 159560\n  - text: 'shit, '\n    start_ms: 159800\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 159900\n  - text: spit-\n    start_ms: 160040\n  - text: 'bubble '\n    start_ms: 160340\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 160600\n  - text: 'skin '\n    start_ms: 160760\n  - text: up\n    start_ms: 161000\n- text: Drag scorch niggaz for dinner, but season 'em well\n  start_ms: 161280\n  end_ms: 163600\n  words:\n  - text: 'Drag '\n    start_ms: 161280\n  - text: 'scorch '\n    start_ms: 161560\n  - text: 'niggaz '\n    start_ms: 161870\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 162220\n  - text: 'dinner, '\n    start_ms: 162400\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 162660\n  - text: 'season '\n    start_ms: 162920\n  - text: '''em '\n    start_ms: 163240\n  - text: well\n    start_ms: 163400\n- text: I don't brag I let the streets tell, po-po now you see he fell (uh, uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 163840\n  end_ms: 165590\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 163840\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 163985\n  - text: 'brag '\n    start_ms: 164063\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 164286\n  - text: 'let '\n    start_ms: 164338\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 164475\n  - text: 'streets '\n    start_ms: 164612\n  - text: 'tell, '\n    start_ms: 164887\n  - text: po-\n    start_ms: 165161\n  - text: 'po '\n    start_ms: 165298\n  - text: 'now '\n    start_ms: 165418\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 165590\n  - text: 'see '\n    start_ms: 165590\n  - text: 'he '\n    start_ms: 165590\n  - text: 'fell '\n    start_ms: 165590\n  - text: '(uh, '\n    start_ms: 165590\n  - text: 'uh, '\n    start_ms: 165590\n  - text: uh)\n    start_ms: 165590\n- text: Now you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  start_ms: 165590\n  end_ms: 168510\n  words:\n  - text: 'Now '\n    start_ms: 165590\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 165656\n  - text: 'motherfuckers '\n    start_ms: 165730\n  - text: 'know '\n    start_ms: 166430\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 166670\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 166810\n  - text: 'name '\n    start_ms: 166970\n  - text: 'means '\n    start_ms: 167190\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 167430\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 167590\n  - text: 'hear '\n    start_ms: 167730\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 167870\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 167950\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 168030\n  - text: 'streets '\n    start_ms: 168170\n  - text: (uh)\n    start_ms: 168450\n- text: Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak, you wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n  start_ms: 169030\n  end_ms: 171680\n  words:\n  - text: 'Y''all '\n    start_ms: 169030\n  - text: 'bitches '\n    start_ms: 169322\n  - text: 'fear '\n    start_ms: 169459\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 169634\n  - text: '''cause '\n    start_ms: 169780\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 169887\n  - text: 'weak, '\n    start_ms: 170024\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 170297\n  - text: 'wanna '\n    start_ms: 170394\n  - text: 'hear '\n    start_ms: 170628\n  - text: 'it? '\n    start_ms: 170774\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 170862\n  - text: 'make '\n    start_ms: 170940\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 171134\n  - text: 'speak '\n    start_ms: 171310\n  - text: (what?)\n    start_ms: 171563\n- text: You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talking (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 171680\n  end_ms: 174110\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 171680\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 171760\n  - text: 'ever '\n    start_ms: 171959\n  - text: 'bust '\n    start_ms: 172178\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 172397\n  - text: 'gun, '\n    start_ms: 172497\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 172875\n  - text: 'there''s '\n    start_ms: 172955\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 173114\n  - text: 'lot '\n    start_ms: 173174\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 173333\n  - text: 'greasy '\n    start_ms: 173433\n  - text: 'talking '\n    start_ms: 173751\n  - text: (uh-\n    start_ms: 174040\n  - text: huh)\n    start_ms: 174090\n- text: What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n  start_ms: 174110\n  end_ms: 176510\n  words:\n  - text: 'What '\n    start_ms: 174110\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 174210\n  - text: 'science '\n    start_ms: 174330\n  - text: 'behind '\n    start_ms: 174650\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 174970\n  - text: 'son? '\n    start_ms: 175150\n  - text: '(I '\n    start_ms: 175284\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 175354\n  - text: 'know), '\n    start_ms: 175410\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 175630\n  - text: 'lot '\n    start_ms: 175670\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 175830\n  - text: 'easy '\n    start_ms: 175970\n  - text: walking\n    start_ms: 176230\n- text: I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n  start_ms: 176560\n  end_ms: 179250\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 176560\n  - text: 'bust '\n    start_ms: 176660\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 177058\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 177118\n  - text: '(uh), '\n    start_ms: 177417\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 177536\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 177775\n  - text: '(uh), '\n    start_ms: 178194\n  - text: 'kick '\n    start_ms: 178234\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 178433\n  - text: '(uh), '\n    start_ms: 178602\n  - text: 'shot '\n    start_ms: 178772\n  - text: 'down '\n    start_ms: 179011\n  - text: (uh)\n    start_ms: 179230\n- text: Ain't tryna talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n  start_ms: 179250\n  end_ms: 181770\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ain''t '\n    start_ms: 179250\n  - text: 'tryna '\n    start_ms: 179430\n  - text: 'talk '\n    start_ms: 179730\n  - text: 'about '\n    start_ms: 179950\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 180170\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 180330\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 180430\n  - text: 'now, '\n    start_ms: 180670\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 181050\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 181210\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 181310\n  - text: 'now '\n    start_ms: 181530\n  - text: (what?)\n    start_ms: 181750\n- text: I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 181860\n  end_ms: 184120\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 181860\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 181896\n  - text: 'never '\n    start_ms: 182042\n  - text: 'sold '\n    start_ms: 182261\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 182443\n  - text: 'brick, '\n    start_ms: 182553\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 182917\n  - text: 'done '\n    start_ms: 182990\n  - text: 'stuck '\n    start_ms: 183227\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 183664\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 183828\n  - text: (c'mon)\n    start_ms: 183865\n- text: And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  start_ms: 184120\n  end_ms: 185220\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 184120\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 184200\n  - text: 'talkin'' '\n    start_ms: 184340\n  - text: 'too '\n    start_ms: 184660\n  - text: 'much '\n    start_ms: 184820\n  - text: 'shit? '\n    start_ms: 185020\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 185100\n  - text: 'done '\n    start_ms: 185140\n  - text: 'fucked '\n    start_ms: 185220\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 185220\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 185220\n  - text: (uh)\n    start_ms: 185220\n- text: It can get dark for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 186850\n  end_ms: 189530\n  words:\n  - text: 'It '\n    start_ms: 186850\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 187418\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 187437\n  - text: 'dark '\n    start_ms: 187713\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 187970\n  - text: 'real, '\n    start_ms: 188117\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 188300\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 188447\n  - text: 'think '\n    start_ms: 188594\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 188777\n  - text: 'already '\n    start_ms: 188869\n  - text: 'know '\n    start_ms: 189181\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 189328\n  - text: (uh-\n    start_ms: 189420\n  - text: huh)\n    start_ms: 189457\n- text: Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  start_ms: 189530\n  end_ms: 191890\n  words:\n  - text: 'Well, '\n    start_ms: 189530\n  - text: 'think '\n    start_ms: 189690\n  - text: 'about '\n    start_ms: 189890\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 190130\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 190270\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 190410\n  - text: 'brick '\n    start_ms: 190550\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 190730\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 190810\n  - text: 'hand '\n    start_ms: 190970\n  - text: 'before '\n    start_ms: 191130\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 191430\n  - text: 'throw '\n    start_ms: 191550\n  - text: that\n    start_ms: 191730\n- text: Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rolling\n  start_ms: 192220\n  end_ms: 194200\n  words:\n  - text: 'Now '\n    start_ms: 192220\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 192400\n  - text: 'act, '\n    start_ms: 192600\n  - text: '''cause '\n    start_ms: 192860\n  - text: 'actin'' '\n    start_ms: 193100\n  - text: 'might '\n    start_ms: 193420\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 193640\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 193800\n  - text: rolling\n    start_ms: 193940\n- text: With what you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n  start_ms: 194340\n  end_ms: 195140\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 194340\n  - text: 'what '\n    start_ms: 194382\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 194427\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 194472\n  - text: 'ready '\n    start_ms: 194517\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 194580\n  - text: 'handle '\n    start_ms: 194720\n  - text: (uh)\n    start_ms: 195060\n- text: All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n  start_ms: 195500\n  end_ms: 197220\n  words:\n  - text: 'All '\n    start_ms: 195500\n  - text: 'that''s '\n    start_ms: 195600\n  - text: 'left '\n    start_ms: 195740\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 195920\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 196000\n  - text: 'memory, '\n    start_ms: 196140\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 196480\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 196620\n  - text: 'candle '\n    start_ms: 196760\n  - text: (woo)\n    start_ms: 197040\n- text: It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  start_ms: 197300\n  end_ms: 199610\n  words:\n  - text: 'It '\n    start_ms: 197300\n  - text: 'happens '\n    start_ms: 197418\n  - text: 'quick '\n    start_ms: 197754\n  - text: 'fast '\n    start_ms: 198011\n  - text: 'nigga, '\n    start_ms: 198929\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 199489\n  - text: 'bitch '\n    start_ms: 199523\n  - text: 'ass '\n    start_ms: 199558\n  - text: niggas\n    start_ms: 199592\n- text: Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  start_ms: 199610\n  end_ms: 202120\n  words:\n  - text: 'Talking '\n    start_ms: 199610\n  - text: 'reckless '\n    start_ms: 199887\n  - text: 'behind '\n    start_ms: 200223\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 200578\n  - text: 'back, '\n    start_ms: 200756\n  - text: 'them '\n    start_ms: 200974\n  - text: 'kiss '\n    start_ms: 201171\n  - text: 'ass '\n    start_ms: 201415\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 201468\n  - text: (uh)\n    start_ms: 202041\n- text: From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  start_ms: 202120\n  end_ms: 204360\n  words:\n  - text: 'From '\n    start_ms: 202120\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 202280\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 202440\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 202700\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 202820\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 202920\n  - text: 'street '\n    start_ms: 203020\n  - text: 'shit, '\n    start_ms: 203420\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 203620\n  - text: 'keep '\n    start_ms: 203740\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 204140\n  - text: tight\n    start_ms: 204300\n- text: Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?), I'm dog for life, nigga\n  start_ms: 204630\n  end_ms: 207370\n  words:\n  - text: 'Let '\n    start_ms: 204630\n  - text: 'them '\n    start_ms: 204770\n  - text: 'cats '\n    start_ms: 204970\n  - text: 'spit '\n    start_ms: 205210\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 205410\n  - text: 'weak '\n    start_ms: 205590\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 205750\n  - text: '(what?), '\n    start_ms: 206070\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 206130\n  - text: 'dog '\n    start_ms: 206270\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 206550\n  - text: 'life, '\n    start_ms: 206730\n  - text: nigga\n    start_ms: 207090\n- text: They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  start_ms: 207890\n  end_ms: 209680\n  words:\n  - text: 'They '\n    start_ms: 207890\n  - text: 'gon'' '\n    start_ms: 207901\n  - text: 'need '\n    start_ms: 207993\n  - text: 'extra '\n    start_ms: 208286\n  - text: 'guns '\n    start_ms: 208647\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 208957\n  - text: 'extra '\n    start_ms: 209129\n  - text: blocks\n    start_ms: 209456\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 209680\n  end_ms: 211340\n  words:\n  - text: 'They '\n    start_ms: 209680\n  - text: 'wanna '\n    start_ms: 209860\n  - text: 'Ruff '\n    start_ms: 210180\n  - text: 'Ryde, '\n    start_ms: 210460\n  - text: 'Ruff '\n    start_ms: 210605\n  - text: 'Ryde, '\n    start_ms: 210614\n  - text: 'Ruff '\n    start_ms: 210820\n  - text: Ryde\n    start_ms: 211100\n- text: They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  start_ms: 212270\n  end_ms: 214750\n  words:\n  - 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Hop in front of this toast\n  Yo, aiyyo, aiyyo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin niggaz tryin to cuff the God\n  Play Sheik out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  from rappin or tellin some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew til my bullets go through, WHAT?\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggaz; niggaz don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help; we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love L.O.X. (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub glocks (uh)\n  Nice size tecs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada responsible for breakin your heart (uh)\n  Uh\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the Security? Protectin my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggaz drowsy from the blood loss, got em noddin off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin? It's no problem, no lyin\n  Drag's fire; so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggaz for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  Uh, uh, now you motherfuckers\n  know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (WHAT?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin to talk about what I got now, but I got now (WHAT?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggaz up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggaz up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the...\n"},{"id":27285338,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White)","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX, The Lox & Drag-On","albumName":"... And Then There Was X","duration":261.893333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin' proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\nI ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n\nMy niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\nBrand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\nI put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n\nAyo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\nPlay Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n\nAnd it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nWhy I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\nFrom rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\nBounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n\nAll I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is comin', 80 bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\n'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\nNice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\nIt's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tell from my auras no morals\n\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\nDrag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\nI don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n\nNow you motherfuckers know what my name means\nWhen you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\nYou wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\nI bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\nNow don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\nAll that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\nIt happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\nTalking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\nFrom the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\nLet them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n\nThey gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\n\nThey gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde\nThey gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\nThey wanna Ruff Ryde","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.94] Holiday Styles\n[00:03.32] Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n[00:05.97] If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n[00:07.41] I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n[00:10.13] I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n[00:12.82] If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n[00:15.23] I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n[00:17.72] Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n[00:20.05] We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n[00:22.88] My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n[00:25.50] Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n[00:28.18] Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n[00:30.48] I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n[00:33.35] Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n[00:35.75] 'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\n[00:38.30] You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n[00:40.94] You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n[00:43.01] Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n[00:46.10] And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n[00:48.55] No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n[00:51.02] Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n[00:53.53] My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n[00:56.14] What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n[00:58.69] Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n[01:01.34] Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n[01:03.98] And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n[01:06.44] I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n[01:08.84] Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n[01:11.50] You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n[01:14.10] I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n[01:16.76] From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n[01:19.25] I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n[01:21.62] Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n[01:24.03] All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n[01:26.76] A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n[01:29.36] A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n[01:31.85] Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n[01:34.40] Bet you never even felt the heat\n[01:36.27] 'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n[01:39.70] Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n[01:42.50] Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n[01:45.06] Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n[01:47.49] If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n[01:49.98] Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n[01:52.92] Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n[01:55.33] All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n[01:57.97] Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n[02:00.47] Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n[02:02.74] It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n[02:04.96] Creep through the streets\n[02:06.11] For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n[02:08.07] Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n[02:10.89] Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n[02:13.66] Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n[02:16.56] And take casket naps, fuck that\n[02:18.74] You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n[02:20.55] All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n[02:23.30] No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n[02:26.18] Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n[02:28.65] So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n[02:31.49] Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n[02:34.64] Drag done ate your food\n[02:35.98] Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n[02:38.52] Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n[02:41.06] Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n[02:43.86] I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n[02:45.77] Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n[02:47.72] When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n[02:48.66] Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n[02:50.14] You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n[02:51.33] You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n[02:53.94] What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n[02:56.41] I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n[02:59.20] Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n[03:01.62] I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n[03:04.22] And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n[03:06.84] It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n[03:09.50] Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n[03:12.18] Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n[03:15.38] All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n[03:17.35] It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n[03:19.41] Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n[03:22.03] From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n[03:24.54] Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n[03:27.37] They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n[03:29.89] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:32.18] They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n[03:34.80] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:37.20] They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n[03:39.86] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:42.44] They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n[03:45.10] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:47.59] They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n[03:50.13] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:52.61] They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n[03:55.36] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[03:57.89] They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n[04:00.48] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[04:02.80] They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n[04:05.45] They wanna Ruff Ryde\n[04:07.61] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX, The Lox & Drag-On\n  album: '... And Then There Was X'\n  duration_ms: 261893\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Holiday Styles\n  start_ms: 1940\n  end_ms: 3320\n- text: Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  start_ms: 3320\n  end_ms: 5970\n- text: If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  start_ms: 5970\n  end_ms: 7410\n- text: I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  start_ms: 7410\n  end_ms: 10130\n- text: I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  start_ms: 10130\n  end_ms: 12820\n- text: If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  start_ms: 12820\n  end_ms: 15230\n- text: I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n  start_ms: 15230\n  end_ms: 17720\n- text: Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n  start_ms: 17720\n  end_ms: 20050\n- text: We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  start_ms: 20050\n  end_ms: 22880\n- text: My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  start_ms: 22880\n  end_ms: 25500\n- text: Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  start_ms: 25500\n  end_ms: 28180\n- text: Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n  start_ms: 28180\n  end_ms: 30480\n- text: I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n  start_ms: 30480\n  end_ms: 33350\n- text: Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 33350\n  end_ms: 35750\n- text: '''Cause the P gonna squeeze ''til no slugs is left (what?)'\n  start_ms: 35750\n  end_ms: 38300\n- text: You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  start_ms: 38300\n  end_ms: 40940\n- text: You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n  start_ms: 40940\n  end_ms: 43010\n- text: Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  start_ms: 43010\n  end_ms: 46100\n- text: And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  start_ms: 46100\n  end_ms: 48550\n- text: No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  start_ms: 48550\n  end_ms: 51020\n- text: Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  start_ms: 51020\n  end_ms: 53530\n- text: My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  start_ms: 53530\n  end_ms: 56140\n- text: What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  start_ms: 56140\n  end_ms: 58690\n- text: Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  start_ms: 58690\n  end_ms: 61340\n- text: Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n  start_ms: 61340\n  end_ms: 63980\n- text: And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n  start_ms: 63980\n  end_ms: 66440\n- text: I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  start_ms: 66440\n  end_ms: 68840\n- text: Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  start_ms: 68840\n  end_ms: 71500\n- text: You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  start_ms: 71500\n  end_ms: 74100\n- text: I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n  start_ms: 74100\n  end_ms: 76760\n- text: From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  start_ms: 76760\n  end_ms: 79250\n- text: I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 79250\n  end_ms: 81620\n- text: Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 81620\n  end_ms: 84030\n- text: All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  start_ms: 84030\n  end_ms: 86760\n- text: A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  start_ms: 86760\n  end_ms: 89360\n- text: A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n  start_ms: 89360\n  end_ms: 91850\n- text: Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  start_ms: 91850\n  end_ms: 94400\n- text: Bet you never even felt the heat\n  start_ms: 94400\n  end_ms: 96270\n- text: '''Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease'\n  start_ms: 96270\n  end_ms: 99700\n- text: Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  start_ms: 99700\n  end_ms: 102500\n- text: Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  start_ms: 102500\n  end_ms: 105060\n- text: Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  start_ms: 105060\n  end_ms: 107490\n- text: If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  start_ms: 107490\n  end_ms: 109980\n- text: Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  start_ms: 109980\n  end_ms: 112920\n- text: Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n  start_ms: 112920\n  end_ms: 115330\n- text: All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  start_ms: 115330\n  end_ms: 117970\n- text: Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  start_ms: 117970\n  end_ms: 120470\n- text: Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  start_ms: 120470\n  end_ms: 122740\n- text: It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 122740\n  end_ms: 124960\n- text: Creep through the streets\n  start_ms: 124960\n  end_ms: 126110\n- text: For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  start_ms: 126110\n  end_ms: 128070\n- text: Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  start_ms: 128070\n  end_ms: 130890\n- text: Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  start_ms: 130890\n  end_ms: 133660\n- text: Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  start_ms: 133660\n  end_ms: 136560\n- text: And take casket naps, fuck that\n  start_ms: 136560\n  end_ms: 138740\n- text: You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  start_ms: 138740\n  end_ms: 140550\n- text: All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  start_ms: 140550\n  end_ms: 143300\n- text: No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n  start_ms: 143300\n  end_ms: 146180\n- text: Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  start_ms: 146180\n  end_ms: 148650\n- text: So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n  start_ms: 148650\n  end_ms: 151490\n- text: Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  start_ms: 151490\n  end_ms: 154640\n- text: Drag done ate your food\n  start_ms: 154640\n  end_ms: 155980\n- text: Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n  start_ms: 155980\n  end_ms: 158520\n- text: Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  start_ms: 158520\n  end_ms: 161060\n- text: Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n  start_ms: 161060\n  end_ms: 163860\n- text: I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 163860\n  end_ms: 165770\n- text: Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n  start_ms: 165770\n  end_ms: 167720\n- text: When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  start_ms: 167720\n  end_ms: 168660\n- text: Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n  start_ms: 168660\n  end_ms: 170140\n- text: You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n  start_ms: 170140\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173940\n- text: What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n  start_ms: 173940\n  end_ms: 176410\n- text: I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n  start_ms: 176410\n  end_ms: 179200\n- text: Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n  start_ms: 179200\n  end_ms: 181620\n- text: I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 181620\n  end_ms: 184220\n- text: And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  start_ms: 184220\n  end_ms: 186840\n- text: It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 186840\n  end_ms: 189500\n- text: Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  start_ms: 189500\n  end_ms: 192180\n- text: Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n  start_ms: 192180\n  end_ms: 195380\n- text: All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n  start_ms: 195380\n  end_ms: 197350\n- text: It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  start_ms: 197350\n  end_ms: 199410\n- text: Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  start_ms: 199410\n  end_ms: 202030\n- text: From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  start_ms: 202030\n  end_ms: 204540\n- text: Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n  start_ms: 204540\n  end_ms: 207370\n- text: They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  start_ms: 207370\n  end_ms: 209890\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 209890\n  end_ms: 212180\n- text: They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  start_ms: 212180\n  end_ms: 214800\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 214800\n  end_ms: 217200\n- text: They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  start_ms: 217200\n  end_ms: 219860\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 219860\n  end_ms: 222440\n- text: They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  start_ms: 222440\n  end_ms: 225100\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 225100\n  end_ms: 227590\n- text: They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  start_ms: 227590\n  end_ms: 230130\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 230130\n  end_ms: 232610\n- text: They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  start_ms: 232610\n  end_ms: 235360\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 235360\n  end_ms: 237890\n- text: They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  start_ms: 237890\n  end_ms: 240480\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 240480\n  end_ms: 242800\n- text: They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  start_ms: 242800\n  end_ms: 245450\n- text: They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  start_ms: 245450\n  end_ms: 247610\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 247610\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gon' look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cookin' the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n\n  My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  Brand-new .9, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put 16 above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  'Cause the P gonna squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what?)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast (ayo)\n\n  Ayo, I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, that'll get me the chair\n\n  And it don't buck shot, and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Why I don't yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin' to leave my kids some real fuckin' change when I die\n  From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound, nigga (yo, yo)\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what? (Yo, yo)\n\n  All I need is a big gun and a Coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is comin', 80 bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that-a rob you love LOX (uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  Nice size TEC's you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of a car (uh)\n  It's Jada mwah, responsible for breakin' your heart (uh, uh)\n\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tell from my auras no morals\n\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin'\n  Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes, so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggas for dinner, but season 'em well\n  I don't brag, I let the streets tell, po'-po' now you see he fell (uh, uh)\n\n  Now you motherfuckers know what my name means\n  When you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it, 'cause you weak\n  You wanna hear it? I make it speak (what?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know), a lot of easy walking\n  I bust shit down (uh), got down (uh), kick down (uh), shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (what?)\n\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin' too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well, think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you role you ain't ready to handle (uh)\n  All that's left of your memory, is a candle (woo)\n  It happens quick fast, nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  Talking reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  Let them cats spit that weak shit (what?) I'm dog for life, nigga\n\n  They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n\n  They gon' need (extra guns and extra blocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra jails and extra cops)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra pits and extra Glocks)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n  They gon' need (extra chains and extra watches)\n  They wanna Ruff Ryde\n"},{"id":25332283,"name":"D-X-L (Hard White)","trackName":"D-X-L (Hard White)","artistName":"DMX","albumName":"The Heat Is On","duration":248.324,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Holiday Styles\nBitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\nIf I ain't gettin' proper respect\nI don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\nI don't give a fuck, never have, never will\nIf it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\nI ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\nAsk God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\nWe all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\nMy niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\nHundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\nBrand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\nI put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\nNiggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\nYou know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\nYou think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\nAyo, ayo\nI say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\nAnd I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\nNo pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\nPlay Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\nMy dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\nWhat y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\nCheck my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\nKeep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\nAnd it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\nI'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\nSmall yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\nYou see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\nI'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\nFrom rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\nI'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\nBounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\nAll I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\nA nice house with five rooms, maybe six\nA town where money is coming, eighty bricks\nBreak 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\nBet you never even felt the heat\n'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\nStreets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\nY'all use beats for help, we help the beats\nWho want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\nIf I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\nBe in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\nSame niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\nAll types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\nNice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\nFind your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\nIt's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\nCreep through the streets\nFor some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\nMe the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\nPut chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\nMake niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\nAnd take casket naps, fuck that\nYou shoulda never let this bastard rap\nAll I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\nNo parents, tale from my horror's no morals\nRaised in the wrong era, with no guidance\nSo you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\nDrag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\nDrag done ate your food\nLike I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\nDrag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\nDrag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\nI don't brag I let the streets tell\nPo'-po' now you see he fell\nAnd you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\nY'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\nYou want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\nYou ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\nWhat the science behind that son? (I don't know)\nA lot of easy walkin'\nI bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\nAin't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\nI ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\nAnd for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\nIt can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\nWell think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\nNow don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\nIf you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\nAll that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\nIt happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\nTalkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\nFrom the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\nLet them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\nI'm dog for life! Nigga!\nThey gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\nThey gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n(They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.43] Holiday Styles\n[00:02.94] Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n[00:05.28] If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n[00:07.25] I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n[00:09.28] I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n[00:11.95] If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n[00:14.47] I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n[00:17.10] Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n[00:19.52] We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n[00:22.26] My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n[00:24.78] Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n[00:27.48] Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n[00:29.77] I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n[00:32.39] Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n[00:35.11] 'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n[00:37.46] You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n[00:40.21] You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n[00:42.12] Ayo, ayo\n[00:43.21] I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n[00:45.02] And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n[00:47.60] No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n[00:50.28] Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n[00:52.79] My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n[00:55.45] What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n[00:58.03] Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n[01:00.50] Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n[01:03.11] And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n[01:05.50] I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n[01:08.14] Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n[01:10.66] You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n[01:13.46] I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n[01:15.97] From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n[01:18.65] I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n[01:21.14] Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n[01:23.30] All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n[01:26.31] A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n[01:28.59] A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n[01:31.19] Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n[01:33.77] Bet you never even felt the heat\n[01:35.63] 'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n[01:39.09] Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n[01:41.81] Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n[01:44.04] Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n[01:47.01] If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n[01:49.03] Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n[01:51.83] Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n[01:54.64] All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n[01:57.13] Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n[01:59.36] Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n[02:01.39] It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n[02:04.48] Creep through the streets\n[02:05.42] For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n[02:06.91] Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n[02:09.41] Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n[02:12.19] Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n[02:15.58] And take casket naps, fuck that\n[02:17.81] You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n[02:19.59] All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n[02:22.41] No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n[02:24.69] Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n[02:27.54] So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n[02:30.13] Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n[02:33.59] Drag done ate your food\n[02:34.86] Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n[02:37.65] Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n[02:40.16] Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n[02:42.58] I don't brag I let the streets tell\n[02:44.59] Po'-po' now you see he fell\n[02:44.77] And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n[02:47.66] Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n[02:49.07] You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n[02:50.38] You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n[02:52.75] What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n[02:54.14] A lot of easy walkin'\n[02:55.78] I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n[02:58.19] Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n[03:00.57] I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n[03:02.62] And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n[03:05.30] It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n[03:08.20] Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n[03:10.74] Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n[03:12.92] If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n[03:14.17] All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n[03:15.89] It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n[03:18.10] Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n[03:20.75] From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n[03:23.41] Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n[03:25.09] I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n[03:26.15] They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:28.78] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:31.25] They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:33.91] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:36.07] They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[03:38.97] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:41.60] They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[03:44.22] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:46.65] They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n[03:49.14] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:51.94] They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n[03:54.36] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[03:57.07] They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n[03:59.50] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n[04:01.59] They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n[04:04.46] (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: D-X-L (Hard White)\n  artist: DMX\n  album: The Heat Is On\n  duration_ms: 248324\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Holiday Styles\n  start_ms: 1430\n  end_ms: 2940\n- text: Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  start_ms: 2940\n  end_ms: 5280\n- text: If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  start_ms: 5280\n  end_ms: 7250\n- text: I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  start_ms: 7250\n  end_ms: 9280\n- text: I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  start_ms: 9280\n  end_ms: 11950\n- text: If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  start_ms: 11950\n  end_ms: 14470\n- text: I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  start_ms: 14470\n  end_ms: 17100\n- text: Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  start_ms: 17100\n  end_ms: 19520\n- text: We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  start_ms: 19520\n  end_ms: 22260\n- text: My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  start_ms: 22260\n  end_ms: 24780\n- text: Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  start_ms: 24780\n  end_ms: 27480\n- text: Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  start_ms: 27480\n  end_ms: 29770\n- text: I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  start_ms: 29770\n  end_ms: 32390\n- text: Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 32390\n  end_ms: 35110\n- text: '''Cause the P gon'' squeeze ''til no slugs is left (what)'\n  start_ms: 35110\n  end_ms: 37460\n- text: You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  start_ms: 37460\n  end_ms: 40210\n- text: You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  start_ms: 40210\n  end_ms: 42120\n- text: Ayo, ayo\n  start_ms: 42120\n  end_ms: 43210\n- text: I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  start_ms: 43210\n  end_ms: 45020\n- text: And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  start_ms: 45020\n  end_ms: 47600\n- text: No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  start_ms: 47600\n  end_ms: 50280\n- text: Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  start_ms: 50280\n  end_ms: 52790\n- text: My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  start_ms: 52790\n  end_ms: 55450\n- text: What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  start_ms: 55450\n  end_ms: 58030\n- text: Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  start_ms: 58030\n  end_ms: 60500\n- text: Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  start_ms: 60500\n  end_ms: 63110\n- text: And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  start_ms: 63110\n  end_ms: 65500\n- text: I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  start_ms: 65500\n  end_ms: 68140\n- text: Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  start_ms: 68140\n  end_ms: 70660\n- text: You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  start_ms: 70660\n  end_ms: 73460\n- text: I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  start_ms: 73460\n  end_ms: 75970\n- text: From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  start_ms: 75970\n  end_ms: 78650\n- text: I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  start_ms: 78650\n  end_ms: 81140\n- text: Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n  start_ms: 81140\n  end_ms: 83300\n- text: All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n  start_ms: 83300\n  end_ms: 86310\n- text: A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  start_ms: 86310\n  end_ms: 88590\n- text: A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  start_ms: 88590\n  end_ms: 91190\n- text: Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  start_ms: 91190\n  end_ms: 93770\n- text: Bet you never even felt the heat\n  start_ms: 93770\n  end_ms: 95630\n- text: '''Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease'\n  start_ms: 95630\n  end_ms: 99090\n- text: Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  start_ms: 99090\n  end_ms: 101810\n- text: Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  start_ms: 101810\n  end_ms: 104040\n- text: Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  start_ms: 104040\n  end_ms: 107010\n- text: If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  start_ms: 107010\n  end_ms: 109030\n- text: Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  start_ms: 109030\n  end_ms: 111830\n- text: Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n  start_ms: 111830\n  end_ms: 114640\n- text: All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  start_ms: 114640\n  end_ms: 117130\n- text: Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  start_ms: 117130\n  end_ms: 119360\n- text: Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n  start_ms: 119360\n  end_ms: 121390\n- text: It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n  start_ms: 121390\n  end_ms: 124480\n- text: Creep through the streets\n  start_ms: 124480\n  end_ms: 125420\n- text: For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  start_ms: 125420\n  end_ms: 126910\n- text: Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  start_ms: 126910\n  end_ms: 129410\n- text: Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  start_ms: 129410\n  end_ms: 132190\n- text: Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  start_ms: 132190\n  end_ms: 135580\n- text: And take casket naps, fuck that\n  start_ms: 135580\n  end_ms: 137810\n- text: You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  start_ms: 137810\n  end_ms: 139590\n- text: All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  start_ms: 139590\n  end_ms: 142410\n- text: No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  start_ms: 142410\n  end_ms: 144690\n- text: Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  start_ms: 144690\n  end_ms: 147540\n- text: So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n  start_ms: 147540\n  end_ms: 150130\n- text: Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  start_ms: 150130\n  end_ms: 153590\n- text: Drag done ate your food\n  start_ms: 153590\n  end_ms: 154860\n- text: Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  start_ms: 154860\n  end_ms: 157650\n- text: Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  start_ms: 157650\n  end_ms: 160160\n- text: Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n  start_ms: 160160\n  end_ms: 162580\n- text: I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  start_ms: 162580\n  end_ms: 164590\n- text: Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  start_ms: 164590\n  end_ms: 164770\n- text: And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  start_ms: 164770\n  end_ms: 167660\n- text: Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n  start_ms: 167660\n  end_ms: 169070\n- text: You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n  start_ms: 169070\n  end_ms: 170380\n- text: You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 170380\n  end_ms: 172750\n- text: What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  start_ms: 172750\n  end_ms: 174140\n- text: A lot of easy walkin'\n  start_ms: 174140\n  end_ms: 175780\n- text: I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  start_ms: 175780\n  end_ms: 178190\n- text: Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n  start_ms: 178190\n  end_ms: 180570\n- text: I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 180570\n  end_ms: 182620\n- text: And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  start_ms: 182620\n  end_ms: 185300\n- text: It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 185300\n  end_ms: 188200\n- text: Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  start_ms: 188200\n  end_ms: 190740\n- text: Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n  start_ms: 190740\n  end_ms: 192920\n- text: If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n  start_ms: 192920\n  end_ms: 194170\n- text: All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n  start_ms: 194170\n  end_ms: 195890\n- text: It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  start_ms: 195890\n  end_ms: 198100\n- text: Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  start_ms: 198100\n  end_ms: 200750\n- text: From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  start_ms: 200750\n  end_ms: 203410\n- text: Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n  start_ms: 203410\n  end_ms: 205090\n- text: I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n  start_ms: 205090\n  end_ms: 206150\n- text: They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  start_ms: 206150\n  end_ms: 208780\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 208780\n  end_ms: 211250\n- text: They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  start_ms: 211250\n  end_ms: 213910\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 213910\n  end_ms: 216070\n- text: They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  start_ms: 216070\n  end_ms: 218970\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 218970\n  end_ms: 221600\n- text: They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  start_ms: 221600\n  end_ms: 224220\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 224220\n  end_ms: 226650\n- text: They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  start_ms: 226650\n  end_ms: 229140\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 229140\n  end_ms: 231940\n- text: They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  start_ms: 231940\n  end_ms: 234360\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 234360\n  end_ms: 237070\n- text: They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  start_ms: 237070\n  end_ms: 239500\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 239500\n  end_ms: 241590\n- text: They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  start_ms: 241590\n  end_ms: 244460\n- text: (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  start_ms: 244460\nplain: |-\n  Holiday Styles\n  Bitch, I get you shot in the head or shot in the neck\n  If I ain't gettin' proper respect\n  I don't care if you rap, I still spit in your grill\n  I don't give a fuck, never have, never will\n  If it ain't on your hip, then you're lookin' to die\n  I ain't tryin' to be the nigga that's gonna look at the sky\n  Ask God why I'm broke, bitch, I'm cooking the pie\n  We all gon' die, sooner or later, matter of time\n  My niggas sell crack, with a package of dimes\n  Hundred or more, in front of the store, waitin' to bubble\n  Brand new nine, and an eight in a bubble\n  I put sixteen above ya neck, I love my set\n  Niggas think they a thug, then thug to death (uh-huh)\n  'Cause the P gon' squeeze 'til no slugs is left (what)\n  You know I'm good with a hundred of 'dro, gun and an O\n  You think your shit butter? Hop in front of this toast\n  Ayo, ayo\n  I say what I want, fuck what y'all think is cool\n  And I hate cops, 'cause most y'all was dicks in school\n  No pussy gettin' niggas tryin' to cuff the God\n  Play Sheek out in the yard, but that shit too hard\n  My dough too long, nowadays, my flow too strong\n  What y'all make in a year, I kick that for a song\n  Check my car, I don't care, I don't play fair\n  Keep some shit in the stash box, then get me the chair\n  And it don't buck shot and the blast is hard to hear\n  I'm a true thug nigga, bring it straight to your crew\n  Small yell when I rap, I'm basically talkin' to you\n  You see the pain in my eye? Nigga, the flame in my eye?\n  I'm tryin to leave my kids some real fuckin change when I die\n  From rappin' or tellin' some cat to reach for the sky\n  I'm that hunt down nigga, with the four pound nigga\n  Bounty hunt your whole crew 'til my bullets go through, what?\n  All I need is a big gun and a coupe that's crazy quick\n  A nice house with five rooms, maybe six\n  A town where money is coming, eighty bricks\n  Break 'em down to all twenties, is a crazy flip\n  Bet you never even felt the heat\n  'Til I put the M1 next to your waves and melt the grease\n  Streets help niggas, niggas don't help the streets\n  Y'all use beats for help, we help the beats\n  Who want it with me? Who want it with Sheek? Who want it with P?\n  If I say so myself, it's a wonderful three\n  Be in the hood with all your jewels in the glovebox\n  Same niggas that'll rob you love L.O.X. (Uh)\n  All types of burners, even snub Glocks (uh)\n  Nice size TECs you could carry in your sweats (uh)\n  Find your man dead in the trunk of the car (uh)\n  It's Jada (mwwaa) responsible for breakin' your heart (uh)\n  Creep through the streets\n  For some of y'all rappers, that's mighty hard\n  Me the security? Protectin' my body? I let my shotty guard\n  Put chill pills in brains, bullets like Tylenol\n  Make niggas drowsy from the blood loss, got 'em noddin' off\n  And take casket naps, fuck that\n  You shoulda never let this bastard rap\n  All I know is cold winter, hot slugs through your snorkel\n  No parents, tale from my horror's no morals\n  Raised in the wrong era, with no guidance\n  So you dyin'? It's no problem, no lyin '\n  Drag's fire, so ya hamburger beef? I french-fry 'em\n  Drag done ate your food\n  Like I know to raise your dukes so guard your chin up\n  Drag barrels, but shit, I spit-bubble your skin up\n  Drag scorch niggas for dinner but season 'em well\n  I don't brag I let the streets tell\n  Po'-po' now you see he fell\n  And you motherfuckers know what my name means when you hear it in the streets (uh)\n  Y'all bitches fear it 'cause you weak\n  You want to hear it? I make it speak (What?)\n  You ain't ever bust a gun, but there's a lot of greasy talkin' (uh-huh)\n  What the science behind that son? (I don't know)\n  A lot of easy walkin'\n  I bust shit down (uh) got down (uh) kick down (uh) shot down (uh)\n  Ain't tryin' to talk about what I got now, but I got now (What?)\n  I ain't never sold a brick, I done stuck niggas up (c'mon)\n  And for talkin too much shit? I done fucked niggas up (uh)\n  It can get \"Dark\" for real, and I think you already know that (uh-huh)\n  Well think about it with the brick in your hand before you throw that\n  Now don't act, 'cause actin' might get you rollin '\n  If you ain't ready to handle (Uhh)\n  All that's left of your memory, is a candle (Woo!)\n  It happens quick fast nigga, to bitch ass niggas\n  Talkin' reckless behind your back, them kiss ass niggas (uh)\n  From the rap shit to the street shit, I keep shit tight\n  Let them cats spit that weak shit (What!)\n  I'm dog for life! Nigga!\n  They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra guns and extra blocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra jails and extra cops\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra pits and extra Glocks\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n  They gon' need extra chains and extra watches\n  (They want to Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde, Ruff Ryde)\n"}]