[{"id":9780045,"name":"prototype","trackName":"prototype","artistName":"DRAM","albumName":"prototype","duration":142.49795918367346,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"Bars on I-95 Freestyle\nTsu Surf\n\nLord forgive me for my sins, I been tainted\nAll them late nights me and them walls got acquainted\nBasquiat with the hammer, plenty pictures I done painted\nJudge read the charges, shit, Momma nearly fainted\nMy hood been Iraq, them bricks like the Navy\nIn the kitchen whippin' gravy tryin' to get it for the baby\nI wouldn't say a name if them motherfuckers payed me\nRemember sittin' in that cell: Jordan and McGrady\nThats 23 and 1, window blocked so I can't see the sun\nPush-ups 100 down all the way to 1\nJust caught another case like I ain't just beat a gun\nSomebody on the phone trippin', she won't let him see his son\nGo ahead with your shit, go ahead with your list\nThem niggas that's you think hard, me and them don't mix\nBut everybody bangin' though, everybody ridin'\nOut of state screamin' out blocks we be slidin'\nGood on your \"welcome home\" if you wasn't screamin' free me\nMind on a mill behind that wall—hold up, Free Meek\nTinted Impalas we probably pile up for the mission\nLord I know I'm contradictin', but I'm prayin' that we hit him\nWasn't thinkin' 'bout his mother 'fore we got him but we get him\nPray my momma don't ever gotta identify a victim\nWe rap those things, get some clients if your trap don't bling\nMy daughter askin' what them tattoos mean\nShit, first you feel sad, then you feel mad\nIn the mirror like, \"What if she want a nigga like her dad?\"\nSo I been tryna chill, I been focused on the bag\nI'm sorry if this ain't the type of shit that make you dab\nNights in that cell, don't know if I'm comin' home or not\nYou hear that door close, I still hear that shit lock\nI'm back for my loyalty, still hear them shots\nMetal cuffs left a mark, allergic to them cops\nAnd niggas fuck with him when he spittin' in the light\nHe fightin' for his life, he can't even get a kite\nShit, all I know is gunplay, I know I gotta get it though\nGotta ask Chris Paul how he let them Clippers go\nSuckers try to speak and get the stale face\nKnow I got a hell date, 'til then eat good, tilapia well-steak\nWifey know where I put the bail cake\nI'll take a jail case before I take a shell-case\nLeanin' off these Minnesota's, pop another Vicodin\nShit really happen, I don't be rappin', I just write the shit\nThis what Newark sound like, nother day nother movie\nSo I'm usually out of town shoppin' 'round with a Karruche\nOnly connect with G's, shit me and my guys Gucci\nOnly things that test loyalty: time, money and couchie\nHe talk to much, you pay attention, play that nigga loosely\nBring light on the transaction, pull up in a hooptie\nPray I make it to my destination, niggas tryna do me\nI gotta hit them hitters, it's gon' be a call of duty\nBe layed blowin' fruity with a cutie gettin' chewy\nWhile I'm playin' with her cootie, fingers sticky, shit be gooey\nPut a bag on your head, she'll really line you for a Louie\nThank god he survived, them doctor stitch him like a Coogie\nOpps out lurkin', they wonder why I be trippin'\nShit, Tsu cased up, he was in them streets trippin'\nYou know suitcase, trip... nevermind that\nCops put the pressure, niggas askin' where they sign at\nFirst day home, I grabbed the \"where you find that?\"\nCopped a new watch, just can't get the time back\nSickenin', thought a nigga never get to spit again\nMomma keep sayin' pray, but Momma, I don't think He listenin'\nWhy should he now? I be like a reaper with that hoodie down\nTell cuz hit the lights, let me out, pull around\nWork time, I might make a movie if you let me\nNo designer, we can't put in work in Louie or Giuseppe\nToo wild, that's why they ain't open to sign me\nThey only red bottoms 'cause I stepped over the body\nI'd die for this goon gang, ride with these grips out\nThink we eatin' Chinese food: them chopsticks out\nKeep the work at what's-her-name crib, she a brick house\nCuz took the wrong pill, fucked around and tripped out\nAlmost rapped about the body, nigga got a slick mouth\nWent and caught another bid, baby momma dipped out\nLight the sticky up and you burn it\nOld head said if you don't know it then you learn it\nWork like opening doors: get the key, turn it\nUpgrade the side bitch status, man she earned it\nBeen practicin' patience, few dead faces in the basement\nRelationship changed 'cause of statements\nTimin' on the plea is like \"fuck it, man, take it\"\nBands at my lil bitch crib, we don't bank it\nAnd I can't get none of them homies body from the dirt\nLeft some real niggas in that building, shit hurt\nLife funny like that, pitbull in a skirt\nBut rest in peace the old me, put it on a shirt\nIf that ain't what you really 'bout, nigga why you write it?\nDon't glorify shit, we just really been indicted\nWe really caught cases, really got knocked\nWas quarantined, days playin' spades with the opps\nAnd cuz fightin' trial 'cause them charges won't drop\nProstration gettin' darker, he been heavy on Salat\nPay attention to character, watch out for the plot\nOnly eat with the family, you food if you not\nAnd cold winters, gotta keep warm, that's the norm\nAttempt murder mean they caught him workin' on his form\nBig body truck stash box, transform\nIf we beefin' when I see him I got somethin' for him\n\nSome lil nigga father never told him\nGotta know when you should hold him, when to fold him\nIf that's your lil bro then nigga mold him\nHe only know the stupid shit you showed him\nThey be paintin' a story that be all facts\nThem niggas bangin' on Twitter, all caps\nStart to see your true colors, I just fall back\nCounty phone 15 minutes \"yo I'll call back\"\nHow I don't talk about the real when I live it?\nDo you cop or do you roll the dice knowin' that you did it?\nLandlord the whip: first you own it, then you tint it (tenant)\nMan, she seen me, she cried like 15 minutes\nAin't no niggas cry, wasn't no bitches hurtin'\nYou start to realize you livin' for the wrong person\nThey said I wasn't comin' back\nI heard that when I came back\nOnce you change you can't change back\nWhen it's time to ride, where your gang at?\nAin't seen my daughter in like a year, shit explain that\nSafe for the money but where I put this pain at?\nSafe for the money but... look, ayo\n\nAsk the opps, they real enough to tell you that I let it go\nEverybody go through shit, you hold it down, don't let it show\nBaby hairs and messy bun, can't seem to tell her no\nIf I don't make it, shit I'm hittin' the block\nI find another hood, shipment and shop\nMaybe Oaklahoma Trey Young givin' a shot\nFirst you ... then you ... I'm just [...]\nI know some Akhis with some bodies I'm just sendin' salat\nIt's like the body count rise when the temperature drop\nGet them niggas out your circle, they ain't with you you crop\nGet your niggas—\n\nShout out to them niggas that never played with me\n[?] I can spit, some gotta go to the grave with me\nNightmare, Momma said she felt the call, played with me\nWoke up in a cold sweat, bad bitch layed with me\nBands on her Monclear, lil bitch from Montclair\nTook her out the state for a minute, I got her mind clear\nAnd never did nothin' I ain't had to\nNiggas throwin' shade, see you out, try and lap you\nStandin' next to you but I lapped you\nDon't judge him when he comfortable, it's 'bout what he adapt to\nOld head put me on game, it made sense\nCaught his case in 98, he ain't been home since\nTold me I should learn my lesson from him, shit real\nHe in that fed jumper in the county on a pill\nThis real world shit, light the blunt, take a dab\nIt's like they don't understand it if it don't make 'em dab\nFew bands on a bag, more bands on a bag\nEvery man for theyself, I learned that from my dad\nAnd bitches ain't shit, learned that from my ex\nYou gotta let it breathe, learned that from the TEC\nWasted money on a vest, hit that nigga in his neck\nOnly thing I every put my name on was a check\nReal shit, no cut, I'll probably never win a Grammy\nToo busy chasin' these bandies\nI just beat another case, know they can't stand me\nMy lawyer at my daughter birthday now, he family\nGot somethin' for him if he think a nigga candy\nParanoia got me sleepin' with this Waka like Tammy\nShit, commissary summer dogs with the MAC\nThe day I got locked keep playin' back\nMy bunkie been stressin', his codefendant a rat\nThe old-head talkin' what he was way back\nBefore he slipped through the cracks\nDope jumped on his back, I believe him\nIf they don't check you when you down you don't need 'em\nSomebody just lost trial, he ain't never leavin'\nThe cops burned down roof him, bad bitch boof him\nD's question: did he lie 'em? did he truth 'em?\nMade niggas disappear poof and\nI ain't Lonzo Ball, my daddy wasn't proud of my shootin'\nYou gotta stack it, shit happen in these fake streets\nKick his candles while he dead how you make beef\nAnd everybody ain't allowed where them apes eat\nHit the lawyer with the retainer like straight teeth\nBelieve half of what you see, none of what they tellin' you\nGo and dab it on your tongue what these niggas sellin' you\nAnd gotta make it back home without dog smellin' you\nSeen opps catch opps down at main medical\nHad to hustle, my back to the wall, ashy knuckles\nWe was bumpin' Hov, morning shift on that stove\nWhy he only talk real shit?\n'Cause life a card game, this just what we deal with\nI rather motivate who ain't got it\nThan talk about these bands we be runnin' up\nLike niggas get it and just forget when they was comin' up\nThese was expensive, why I'm gon' announce it?\nWhy I'm showin' off for her? She can't even pronounce it\nEverybody can't afford keys, get some ounces\nMonopoly: before you get a telly you get houses\nMy cougar bitch do real estate, she sell cribs\nMy chubby bitch d—","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.32]I hope that you're the one\n[00:19.63]And well, you are the prototype\n[00:28.68]We'll turtle to the sun\n[00:34.73]And do things I know you like\n[00:41.60]I think I'm in love again\n[00:50.52]Baby girl, ooh girl\n[00:56.73]I think I'm in love again\n[01:05.39]Baby girl, ooh girl\n[01:13.07]Today, today must be my lucky day\n[01:20.75]Baby, you are the prototype\n[01:28.89]Let's do something out of the ordinary\n[01:32.53]Like catch a matinee\n[01:35.97]Baby, you are the prototype\n[01:42.46]I think I'm in love again\n[01:51.15]Baby girl, ooh girl\n[01:57.83]I think I'm in love again\n[02:04.05]'Cause you are the prototype\n[02:13.14]Prototype, prototype","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: prototype\n  artist: DRAM\n  album: prototype\n  duration_ms: 142498\n  instrumental: false\n  language: en\nlines:\n- text: I hope that you're the one\n  start_ms: 13320\n  end_ms: 16099\n  words:\n  - 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text: 'Baby '\n    start_ms: 111150\n  - text: 'girl, '\n    start_ms: 111670\n  - text: 'ooh '\n    start_ms: 113610\n  - text: girl\n    start_ms: 114470\n- text: I think I'm in love again\n  start_ms: 117830\n  end_ms: 124050\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 117830\n  - text: 'think '\n    start_ms: 118010\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 118370\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 118670\n  - text: 'love '\n    start_ms: 119010\n  - text: again\n    start_ms: 123510\n- text: '''Cause you are the prototype'\n  start_ms: 124050\n  end_ms: 132470\n  words:\n  - text: '''Cause '\n    start_ms: 124050\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 126790\n  - text: 'are '\n    start_ms: 127090\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 131150\n  - text: prototype\n    start_ms: 131330\n- text: Prototype, prototype\n  start_ms: 133140\n  end_ms: 142140\n  words:\n  - text: 'Prototype, '\n    start_ms: 133140\n  - text: prototype\n    start_ms: 135000\nplain: |-\n  Bars on I-95 Freestyle\n  Tsu Surf\n\n  Lord forgive me for my sins, I been tainted\n  All them late nights me and them walls got acquainted\n  Basquiat with the hammer, plenty pictures I done painted\n  Judge read the charges, shit, Momma nearly fainted\n  My hood been Iraq, them bricks like the Navy\n  In the kitchen whippin' gravy tryin' to get it for the baby\n  I wouldn't say a name if them motherfuckers payed me\n  Remember sittin' in that cell: Jordan and McGrady\n  Thats 23 and 1, window blocked so I can't see the sun\n  Push-ups 100 down all the way to 1\n  Just caught another case like I ain't just beat a gun\n  Somebody on the phone trippin', she won't let him see his son\n  Go ahead with your shit, go ahead with your list\n  Them niggas that's you think hard, me and them don't mix\n  But everybody bangin' though, everybody ridin'\n  Out of state screamin' out blocks we be slidin'\n  Good on your \"welcome home\" if you wasn't screamin' free me\n  Mind on a mill behind that wall—hold up, Free Meek\n  Tinted Impalas we probably pile up for the mission\n  Lord I know I'm contradictin', but I'm prayin' that we hit him\n  Wasn't thinkin' 'bout his mother 'fore we got him but we get him\n  Pray my momma don't ever gotta identify a victim\n  We rap those things, get some clients if your trap don't bling\n  My daughter askin' what them tattoos mean\n  Shit, first you feel sad, then you feel mad\n  In the mirror like, \"What if she want a nigga like her dad?\"\n  So I been tryna chill, I been focused on the bag\n  I'm sorry if this ain't the type of shit that make you dab\n  Nights in that cell, don't know if I'm comin' home or not\n  You hear that door close, I still hear that shit lock\n  I'm back for my loyalty, still hear them shots\n  Metal cuffs left a mark, allergic to them cops\n  And niggas fuck with him when he spittin' in the light\n  He fightin' for his life, he can't even get a kite\n  Shit, all I know is gunplay, I know I gotta get it though\n  Gotta ask Chris Paul how he let them Clippers go\n  Suckers try to speak and get the stale face\n  Know I got a hell date, 'til then eat good, tilapia well-steak\n  Wifey know where I put the bail cake\n  I'll take a jail case before I take a shell-case\n  Leanin' off these Minnesota's, pop another Vicodin\n  Shit really happen, I don't be rappin', I just write the shit\n  This what Newark sound like, nother day nother movie\n  So I'm usually out of town shoppin' 'round with a Karruche\n  Only connect with G's, shit me and my guys Gucci\n  Only things that test loyalty: time, money and couchie\n  He talk to much, you pay attention, play that nigga loosely\n  Bring light on the transaction, pull up in a hooptie\n  Pray I make it to my destination, niggas tryna do me\n  I gotta hit them hitters, it's gon' be a call of duty\n  Be layed blowin' fruity with a cutie gettin' chewy\n  While I'm playin' with her cootie, fingers sticky, shit be gooey\n  Put a bag on your head, she'll really line you for a Louie\n  Thank god he survived, them doctor stitch him like a Coogie\n  Opps out lurkin', they wonder why I be trippin'\n  Shit, Tsu cased up, he was in them streets trippin'\n  You know suitcase, trip... nevermind that\n  Cops put the pressure, niggas askin' where they sign at\n  First day home, I grabbed the \"where you find that?\"\n  Copped a new watch, just can't get the time back\n  Sickenin', thought a nigga never get to spit again\n  Momma keep sayin' pray, but Momma, I don't think He listenin'\n  Why should he now? I be like a reaper with that hoodie down\n  Tell cuz hit the lights, let me out, pull around\n  Work time, I might make a movie if you let me\n  No designer, we can't put in work in Louie or Giuseppe\n  Too wild, that's why they ain't open to sign me\n  They only red bottoms 'cause I stepped over the body\n  I'd die for this goon gang, ride with these grips out\n  Think we eatin' Chinese food: them chopsticks out\n  Keep the work at what's-her-name crib, she a brick house\n  Cuz took the wrong pill, fucked around and tripped out\n  Almost rapped about the body, nigga got a slick mouth\n  Went and caught another bid, baby momma dipped out\n  Light the sticky up and you burn it\n  Old head said if you don't know it then you learn it\n  Work like opening doors: get the key, turn it\n  Upgrade the side bitch status, man she earned it\n  Been practicin' patience, few dead faces in the basement\n  Relationship changed 'cause of statements\n  Timin' on the plea is like \"fuck it, man, take it\"\n  Bands at my lil bitch crib, we don't bank it\n  And I can't get none of them homies body from the dirt\n  Left some real niggas in that building, shit hurt\n  Life funny like that, pitbull in a skirt\n  But rest in peace the old me, put it on a shirt\n  If that ain't what you really 'bout, nigga why you write it?\n  Don't glorify shit, we just really been indicted\n  We really caught cases, really got knocked\n  Was quarantined, days playin' spades with the opps\n  And cuz fightin' trial 'cause them charges won't drop\n  Prostration gettin' darker, he been heavy on Salat\n  Pay attention to character, watch out for the plot\n  Only eat with the family, you food if you not\n  And cold winters, gotta keep warm, that's the norm\n  Attempt murder mean they caught him workin' on his form\n  Big body truck stash box, transform\n  If we beefin' when I see him I got somethin' for him\n\n  Some lil nigga father never told him\n  Gotta know when you should hold him, when to fold him\n  If that's your lil bro then nigga mold him\n  He only know the stupid shit you showed him\n  They be paintin' a story that be all facts\n  Them niggas bangin' on Twitter, all caps\n  Start to see your true colors, I just fall back\n  County phone 15 minutes \"yo I'll call back\"\n  How I don't talk about the real when I live it?\n  Do you cop or do you roll the dice knowin' that you did it?\n  Landlord the whip: first you own it, then you tint it (tenant)\n  Man, she seen me, she cried like 15 minutes\n  Ain't no niggas cry, wasn't no bitches hurtin'\n  You start to realize you livin' for the wrong person\n  They said I wasn't comin' back\n  I heard that when I came back\n  Once you change you can't change back\n  When it's time to ride, where your gang at?\n  Ain't seen my daughter in like a year, shit explain that\n  Safe for the money but where I put this pain at?\n  Safe for the money but... look, ayo\n\n  Ask the opps, they real enough to tell you that I let it go\n  Everybody go through shit, you hold it down, don't let it show\n  Baby hairs and messy bun, can't seem to tell her no\n  If I don't make it, shit I'm hittin' the block\n  I find another hood, shipment and shop\n  Maybe Oaklahoma Trey Young givin' a shot\n  First you ... then you ... I'm just [...]\n  I know some Akhis with some bodies I'm just sendin' salat\n  It's like the body count rise when the temperature drop\n  Get them niggas out your circle, they ain't with you you crop\n  Get your niggas—\n\n  Shout out to them niggas that never played with me\n  [?] I can spit, some gotta go to the grave with me\n  Nightmare, Momma said she felt the call, played with me\n  Woke up in a cold sweat, bad bitch layed with me\n  Bands on her Monclear, lil bitch from Montclair\n  Took her out the state for a minute, I got her mind clear\n  And never did nothin' I ain't had to\n  Niggas throwin' shade, see you out, try and lap you\n  Standin' next to you but I lapped you\n  Don't judge him when he comfortable, it's 'bout what he adapt to\n  Old head put me on game, it made sense\n  Caught his case in 98, he ain't been home since\n  Told me I should learn my lesson from him, shit real\n  He in that fed jumper in the county on a pill\n  This real world shit, light the blunt, take a dab\n  It's like they don't understand it if it don't make 'em dab\n  Few bands on a bag, more bands on a bag\n  Every man for theyself, I learned that from my dad\n  And bitches ain't shit, learned that from my ex\n  You gotta let it breathe, learned that from the TEC\n  Wasted money on a vest, hit that nigga in his neck\n  Only thing I every put my name on was a check\n  Real shit, no cut, I'll probably never win a Grammy\n  Too busy chasin' these bandies\n  I just beat another case, know they can't stand me\n  My lawyer at my daughter birthday now, he family\n  Got somethin' for him if he think a nigga candy\n  Paranoia got me sleepin' with this Waka like Tammy\n  Shit, commissary summer dogs with the MAC\n  The day I got locked keep playin' back\n  My bunkie been stressin', his codefendant a rat\n  The old-head talkin' what he was way back\n  Before he slipped through the cracks\n  Dope jumped on his back, I believe him\n  If they don't check you when you down you don't need 'em\n  Somebody just lost trial, he ain't never leavin'\n  The cops burned down roof him, bad bitch boof him\n  D's question: did he lie 'em? did he truth 'em?\n  Made niggas disappear poof and\n  I ain't Lonzo Ball, my daddy wasn't proud of my shootin'\n  You gotta stack it, shit happen in these fake streets\n  Kick his candles while he dead how you make beef\n  And everybody ain't allowed where them apes eat\n  Hit the lawyer with the retainer like straight teeth\n  Believe half of what you see, none of what they tellin' you\n  Go and dab it on your tongue what these niggas sellin' you\n  And gotta make it back home without dog smellin' you\n  Seen opps catch opps down at main medical\n  Had to hustle, my back to the wall, ashy knuckles\n  We was bumpin' Hov, morning shift on that stove\n  Why he only talk real shit?\n  'Cause life a card game, this just what we deal with\n  I rather motivate who ain't got it\n  Than talk about these bands we be runnin' up\n  Like niggas get it and just forget when they was comin' up\n  These was expensive, why I'm gon' announce it?\n  Why I'm showin' off for her? She can't even pronounce it\n  Everybody can't afford keys, get some ounces\n  Monopoly: before you get a telly you get houses\n  My cougar bitch do real estate, she sell cribs\n  My chubby bitch d—\n"},{"id":23862474,"name":"Prototype","trackName":"Prototype","artistName":"Shelley FKA DRAM","albumName":"Prototype","duration":142.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I hope that you're the one\nIf not, you are the prototype\nWe'll tiptoe to the sun\nAnd do thangs I know you like\nHuh, I think I'm in love again\nBaby girl, ooh girl\nI think I'm in love again\nHey, baby girl, ooh girl\nToday, today must be my lucky day\nBaby, you are the prototype\nLet's do something outta the ordinary\nLike catch a matinee\nBaby, you are the prototype\nI think I'm in love again\nBaby girl, ooh girl\nI think I'm in love again\nUh, cause you are the prototype, prototype\nPrototype","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Prototype\n  artist: Shelley FKA DRAM\n  album: Prototype\n  duration_ms: 142000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  I hope that you're the one\n  If not, you are the prototype\n  We'll tiptoe to the sun\n  And do thangs I know you like\n  Huh, I think I'm in love again\n  Baby girl, ooh girl\n  I think I'm in love again\n  Hey, baby girl, ooh girl\n  Today, today must be my lucky day\n  Baby, you are the prototype\n  Let's do something outta the ordinary\n  Like catch a matinee\n  Baby, you are the prototype\n  I think I'm in love again\n  Baby girl, ooh girl\n  I think I'm in love again\n  Uh, cause you are the prototype, prototype\n  Prototype\n"}]