[{"id":29800794,"name":"American Dream","trackName":"American Dream","artistName":"P. Diddy & David Bowie","albumName":"Training Day","duration":321.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is not America\nBad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\n\nLand where my father died, land where my children cried\nCome on, America, ain't no barriers\nFree the strings, let's see how freedom rings\nOne nation all gettin' down for the dollars\nAnd the heat is gettin' hotter\nBut a lot don't understand\nJust the way some plan to break you\nI done seen the whole thing go straight through\nHungry for it, I'ma make you\nPay back what's due to me\nEverybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\nMade me a monster, two steps beyond ya\nMore streets to wonder\nFor which it stands for cause let's get it\nCause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\nScreens, greens car candy painted\nChicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\nI pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\nSleepless nights on the block, two for fives\nDeep in the struggles but need the hustle\nWeed and blow shit I make the block bubble\nI'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\nFool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\nMedieval times in the chest of the beast\nCome around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\nJob lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\nIt's not America, son this is Brooklyn\nHome of the shiesty, home of the crook\nWe signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\nMy country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\nJust misery, ya heard me\n\nNow why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\nIf six dead people run this country\nNow they come cause my crew's too large\nWho the fuck put chu' in charge\nRunnin' around here like you is God\nThen they wonder why the shootin' starts\nGettin' checks with half my stacks\nI forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\nMurderin' people for blastin' facts\nThen blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\nI'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\nCops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\nSo they clap and they brawl in hysteria\nTappin' Jackson callin' this area\nGreen gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\nDon't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\nUh, yo what about these streets here\nBefore y'all creep here\nLook around we there\n365 days a year\nLines to cross no fear\nAnd what appears to be roses\nSee I'm knowin' this\nWhen I chose this\nWhat's right\nIn broad day or night\nMore dope deals\nI'm tryin' to stay on my heels\nEvery day's training day\nSome things not in explainin' ways\nWho said crimes don't pay\nChoices to make\nAin't too many chances left to take\nThings look so green\nThe sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\nWhat you made of\nEither hate or love\nPressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\nA little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\nA little peace in me\nA little piece of you (This is not America)\nA little peace in me\nWill go\n\nYo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\nRacial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\nI'm up to par lookin'\nI know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\nTook my hard white\nHad niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\nArrest me, come to court and lie\nYeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\nWhat chu' want those is me of the block\nYo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\nJust last summer had the mad Hummer\nThey took that and didn't even give me they badge number\nSo how am I supposed to feel\nWho I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\nWord man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\nPlus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: American Dream\n  artist: P. Diddy & David Bowie\n  album: Training Day\n  duration_ms: 321000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is not America\n  Bad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n\n  Land where my father died, land where my children cried\n  Come on, America, ain't no barriers\n  Free the strings, let's see how freedom rings\n  One nation all gettin' down for the dollars\n  And the heat is gettin' hotter\n  But a lot don't understand\n  Just the way some plan to break you\n  I done seen the whole thing go straight through\n  Hungry for it, I'ma make you\n  Pay back what's due to me\n  Everybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\n  Made me a monster, two steps beyond ya\n  More streets to wonder\n  For which it stands for cause let's get it\n  Cause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\n  Screens, greens car candy painted\n  Chicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\n  I pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\n  Sleepless nights on the block, two for fives\n  Deep in the struggles but need the hustle\n  Weed and blow shit I make the block bubble\n  I'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\n  Fool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\n  Medieval times in the chest of the beast\n  Come around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\n  Job lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\n  It's not America, son this is Brooklyn\n  Home of the shiesty, home of the crook\n  We signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\n  My country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\n  Just misery, ya heard me\n\n  Now why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\n  If six dead people run this country\n  Now they come cause my crew's too large\n  Who the fuck put chu' in charge\n  Runnin' around here like you is God\n  Then they wonder why the shootin' starts\n  Gettin' checks with half my stacks\n  I forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\n  Murderin' people for blastin' facts\n  Then blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\n  I'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\n  Cops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\n  So they clap and they brawl in hysteria\n  Tappin' Jackson callin' this area\n  Green gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\n  Don't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\n  Uh, yo what about these streets here\n  Before y'all creep here\n  Look around we there\n  365 days a year\n  Lines to cross no fear\n  And what appears to be roses\n  See I'm knowin' this\n  When I chose this\n  What's right\n  In broad day or night\n  More dope deals\n  I'm tryin' to stay on my heels\n  Every day's training day\n  Some things not in explainin' ways\n  Who said crimes don't pay\n  Choices to make\n  Ain't too many chances left to take\n  Things look so green\n  The sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\n  What you made of\n  Either hate or love\n  Pressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\n  A little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\n  A little peace in me\n  A little piece of you (This is not America)\n  A little peace in me\n  Will go\n\n  Yo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\n  Racial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\n  I'm up to par lookin'\n  I know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\n  Took my hard white\n  Had niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\n  Arrest me, come to court and lie\n  Yeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\n  What chu' want those is me of the block\n  Yo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\n  Just last summer had the mad Hummer\n  They took that and didn't even give me they badge number\n  So how am I supposed to feel\n  Who I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\n  Word man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\n  Plus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word\n"},{"id":16353894,"name":"American Dream","trackName":"American Dream","artistName":"P Diddy Feat David Bowie","albumName":"Training Day OST","duration":321.468167,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is not America\nBad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\n\nLand where my father died, land where my children cried\nCome on, America, ain't no barriers\nFree the strings, let's see how freedom rings\nOne nation all gettin' down for the dollars\nAnd the heat is gettin' hotter\nBut a lot don't understand\nJust the way some plan to break you\nI done seen the whole thing go straight through\nHungry for it, I'ma make you\nPay back what's due to me\nEverybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\nMade me a monster, two steps beyond ya\nMore streets to wonder\nFor which it stands for cause let's get it\nCause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\nScreens, greens car candy painted\nChicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\nI pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\nSleepless nights on the block, two for fives\nDeep in the struggles but need the hustle\nWeed and blow shit I make the block bubble\nI'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\nFool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\nMedieval times in the chest of the beast\nCome around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\nJob lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\nIt's not America, son this is Brooklyn\nHome of the shiesty, home of the crook\nWe signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\nMy country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\nJust misery, ya heard me\n\nNow why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\nIf six dead people run this country\nNow they come cause my crew's too large\nWho the fuck put chu' in charge\nRunnin' around here like you is God\nThen they wonder why the shootin' starts\nGettin' checks with half my stacks\nI forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\nMurderin' people for blastin' facts\nThen blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\nI'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\nCops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\nSo they clap and they brawl in hysteria\nTappin' Jackson callin' this area\nGreen gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\nDon't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\nUh, yo what about these streets here\nBefore y'all creep here\nLook around we there\n365 days a year\nLines to cross no fear\nAnd what appears to be roses\nSee I'm knowin' this\nWhen I chose this\nWhat's right\nIn broad day or night\nMore dope deals\nI'm tryin' to stay on my heels\nEvery day's training day\nSome things not in explainin' ways\nWho said crimes don't pay\nChoices to make\nAin't too many chances left to take\nThings look so green\nThe sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\nWhat you made of\nEither hate or love\nPressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\nA little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\nA little peace in me\nA little piece of you (This is not America)\nA little peace in me\nWill go\n\nYo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\nRacial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\nI'm up to par lookin'\nI know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\nTook my hard white\nHad niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\nArrest me, come to court and lie\nYeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\nWhat chu' want those is me of the block\nYo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\nJust last summer had the mad Hummer\nThey took that and didn't even give me they badge number\nSo how am I supposed to feel\nWho I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\nWord man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\nPlus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: American Dream\n  artist: P Diddy Feat David Bowie\n  album: Training Day OST\n  duration_ms: 321468\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is not America\n  Bad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n\n  Land where my father died, land where my children cried\n  Come on, America, ain't no barriers\n  Free the strings, let's see how freedom rings\n  One nation all gettin' down for the dollars\n  And the heat is gettin' hotter\n  But a lot don't understand\n  Just the way some plan to break you\n  I done seen the whole thing go straight through\n  Hungry for it, I'ma make you\n  Pay back what's due to me\n  Everybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\n  Made me a monster, two steps beyond ya\n  More streets to wonder\n  For which it stands for cause let's get it\n  Cause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\n  Screens, greens car candy painted\n  Chicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\n  I pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\n  Sleepless nights on the block, two for fives\n  Deep in the struggles but need the hustle\n  Weed and blow shit I make the block bubble\n  I'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\n  Fool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\n  Medieval times in the chest of the beast\n  Come around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\n  Job lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\n  It's not America, son this is Brooklyn\n  Home of the shiesty, home of the crook\n  We signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\n  My country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\n  Just misery, ya heard me\n\n  Now why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\n  If six dead people run this country\n  Now they come cause my crew's too large\n  Who the fuck put chu' in charge\n  Runnin' around here like you is God\n  Then they wonder why the shootin' starts\n  Gettin' checks with half my stacks\n  I forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\n  Murderin' people for blastin' facts\n  Then blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\n  I'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\n  Cops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\n  So they clap and they brawl in hysteria\n  Tappin' Jackson callin' this area\n  Green gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\n  Don't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\n  Uh, yo what about these streets here\n  Before y'all creep here\n  Look around we there\n  365 days a year\n  Lines to cross no fear\n  And what appears to be roses\n  See I'm knowin' this\n  When I chose this\n  What's right\n  In broad day or night\n  More dope deals\n  I'm tryin' to stay on my heels\n  Every day's training day\n  Some things not in explainin' ways\n  Who said crimes don't pay\n  Choices to make\n  Ain't too many chances left to take\n  Things look so green\n  The sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\n  What you made of\n  Either hate or love\n  Pressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\n  A little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\n  A little peace in me\n  A little piece of you (This is not America)\n  A little peace in me\n  Will go\n\n  Yo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\n  Racial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\n  I'm up to par lookin'\n  I know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\n  Took my hard white\n  Had niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\n  Arrest me, come to court and lie\n  Yeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\n  What chu' want those is me of the block\n  Yo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\n  Just last summer had the mad Hummer\n  They took that and didn't even give me they badge number\n  So how am I supposed to feel\n  Who I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\n  Word man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\n  Plus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word\n"},{"id":14780150,"name":"American Dream","trackName":"American Dream","artistName":"P Diddy Feat David Bowie","albumName":"Training Day Soundtrack","duration":321.468167,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is not America\nBad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\n\nLand where my father died, land where my children cried\nCome on, America, ain't no barriers\nFree the strings, let's see how freedom rings\nOne nation all gettin' down for the dollars\nAnd the heat is gettin' hotter\nBut a lot don't understand\nJust the way some plan to break you\nI done seen the whole thing go straight through\nHungry for it, I'ma make you\nPay back what's due to me\nEverybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\nMade me a monster, two steps beyond ya\nMore streets to wonder\nFor which it stands for cause let's get it\nCause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\nScreens, greens car candy painted\nChicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\nI pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\nSleepless nights on the block, two for fives\nDeep in the struggles but need the hustle\nWeed and blow shit I make the block bubble\nI'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\nFool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\nMedieval times in the chest of the beast\nCome around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\nJob lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\nIt's not America, son this is Brooklyn\nHome of the shiesty, home of the crook\nWe signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\nMy country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\nJust misery, ya heard me\n\nNow why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\nIf six dead people run this country\nNow they come cause my crew's too large\nWho the fuck put chu' in charge\nRunnin' around here like you is God\nThen they wonder why the shootin' starts\nGettin' checks with half my stacks\nI forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\nMurderin' people for blastin' facts\nThen blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\nI'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\nCops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\nSo they clap and they brawl in hysteria\nTappin' Jackson callin' this area\nGreen gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\nDon't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\nUh, yo what about these streets here\nBefore y'all creep here\nLook around we there\n365 days a year\nLines to cross no fear\nAnd what appears to be roses\nSee I'm knowin' this\nWhen I chose this\nWhat's right\nIn broad day or night\nMore dope deals\nI'm tryin' to stay on my heels\nEvery day's training day\nSome things not in explainin' ways\nWho said crimes don't pay\nChoices to make\nAin't too many chances left to take\nThings look so green\nThe sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\nWhat you made of\nEither hate or love\nPressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\nA little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\nA little peace in me\nA little piece of you (This is not America)\nA little peace in me\nWill go\n\nYo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\nRacial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\nI'm up to par lookin'\nI know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\nTook my hard white\nHad niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\nArrest me, come to court and lie\nYeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\nWhat chu' want those is me of the block\nYo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\nJust last summer had the mad Hummer\nThey took that and didn't even give me they badge number\nSo how am I supposed to feel\nWho I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\nWord man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\nPlus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: American Dream\n  artist: P Diddy Feat David Bowie\n  album: Training Day Soundtrack\n  duration_ms: 321468\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is not America\n  Bad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n\n  Land where my father died, land where my children cried\n  Come on, America, ain't no barriers\n  Free the strings, let's see how freedom rings\n  One nation all gettin' down for the dollars\n  And the heat is gettin' hotter\n  But a lot don't understand\n  Just the way some plan to break you\n  I done seen the whole thing go straight through\n  Hungry for it, I'ma make you\n  Pay back what's due to me\n  Everybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\n  Made me a monster, two steps beyond ya\n  More streets to wonder\n  For which it stands for cause let's get it\n  Cause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\n  Screens, greens car candy painted\n  Chicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\n  I pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\n  Sleepless nights on the block, two for fives\n  Deep in the struggles but need the hustle\n  Weed and blow shit I make the block bubble\n  I'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\n  Fool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\n  Medieval times in the chest of the beast\n  Come around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\n  Job lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\n  It's not America, son this is Brooklyn\n  Home of the shiesty, home of the crook\n  We signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\n  My country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\n  Just misery, ya heard me\n\n  Now why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\n  If six dead people run this country\n  Now they come cause my crew's too large\n  Who the fuck put chu' in charge\n  Runnin' around here like you is God\n  Then they wonder why the shootin' starts\n  Gettin' checks with half my stacks\n  I forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\n  Murderin' people for blastin' facts\n  Then blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\n  I'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\n  Cops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\n  So they clap and they brawl in hysteria\n  Tappin' Jackson callin' this area\n  Green gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\n  Don't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\n  Uh, yo what about these streets here\n  Before y'all creep here\n  Look around we there\n  365 days a year\n  Lines to cross no fear\n  And what appears to be roses\n  See I'm knowin' this\n  When I chose this\n  What's right\n  In broad day or night\n  More dope deals\n  I'm tryin' to stay on my heels\n  Every day's training day\n  Some things not in explainin' ways\n  Who said crimes don't pay\n  Choices to make\n  Ain't too many chances left to take\n  Things look so green\n  The sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\n  What you made of\n  Either hate or love\n  Pressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\n  A little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\n  A little peace in me\n  A little piece of you (This is not America)\n  A little peace in me\n  Will go\n\n  Yo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\n  Racial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\n  I'm up to par lookin'\n  I know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\n  Took my hard white\n  Had niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\n  Arrest me, come to court and lie\n  Yeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\n  What chu' want those is me of the block\n  Yo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\n  Just last summer had the mad Hummer\n  They took that and didn't even give me they badge number\n  So how am I supposed to feel\n  Who I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\n  Word man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\n  Plus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word\n"},{"id":24430225,"name":"American Dream (P. Diddy )","trackName":"American Dream (P. Diddy )","artistName":"David Bowie Rare","albumName":"db rarities & oddities","duration":321.515125,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is not America\nBad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\n\nLand where my father died, land where my children cried\nCome on, America, ain't no barriers\nFree the strings, let's see how freedom rings\nOne nation all gettin' down for the dollars\nAnd the heat is gettin' hotter\nBut a lot don't understand\nJust the way some plan to break you\nI done seen the whole thing go straight through\nHungry for it, I'ma make you\nPay back what's due to me\nEverybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\nMade me a monster, two steps beyond ya\nMore streets to wonder\nFor which it stands for cause let's get it\nCause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\nScreens, greens car candy painted\nChicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\nI pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\nSleepless nights on the block, two for fives\nDeep in the struggles but need the hustle\nWeed and blow shit I make the block bubble\nI'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\nFool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\nMedieval times in the chest of the beast\nCome around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\nJob lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\nIt's not America, son this is Brooklyn\nHome of the shiesty, home of the crook\nWe signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\nMy country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\nJust misery, ya heard me\n\nNow why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\nIf six dead people run this country\nNow they come cause my crew's too large\nWho the fuck put chu' in charge\nRunnin' around here like you is God\nThen they wonder why the shootin' starts\nGettin' checks with half my stacks\nI forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\nMurderin' people for blastin' facts\nThen blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\nI'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\nCops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\nSo they clap and they brawl in hysteria\nTappin' Jackson callin' this area\nGreen gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\nDon't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\nUh, yo what about these streets here\nBefore y'all creep here\nLook around we there\n365 days a year\nLines to cross no fear\nAnd what appears to be roses\nSee I'm knowin' this\nWhen I chose this\nWhat's right\nIn broad day or night\nMore dope deals\nI'm tryin' to stay on my heels\nEvery day's training day\nSome things not in explainin' ways\nWho said crimes don't pay\nChoices to make\nAin't too many chances left to take\nThings look so green\nThe sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\nWhat you made of\nEither hate or love\nPressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\nA little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\nA little peace in me\nA little piece of you (This is not America)\nA little peace in me\nWill go\n\nYo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\nRacial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\nI'm up to par lookin'\nI know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\nTook my hard white\nHad niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\nArrest me, come to court and lie\nYeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\nWhat chu' want those is me of the block\nYo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\nJust last summer had the mad Hummer\nThey took that and didn't even give me they badge number\nSo how am I supposed to feel\nWho I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\nWord man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\nPlus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: American Dream (P. Diddy )\n  artist: David Bowie Rare\n  album: db rarities & oddities\n  duration_ms: 321515\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is not America\n  Bad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n\n  Land where my father died, land where my children cried\n  Come on, America, ain't no barriers\n  Free the strings, let's see how freedom rings\n  One nation all gettin' down for the dollars\n  And the heat is gettin' hotter\n  But a lot don't understand\n  Just the way some plan to break you\n  I done seen the whole thing go straight through\n  Hungry for it, I'ma make you\n  Pay back what's due to me\n  Everybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\n  Made me a monster, two steps beyond ya\n  More streets to wonder\n  For which it stands for cause let's get it\n  Cause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\n  Screens, greens car candy painted\n  Chicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\n  I pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\n  Sleepless nights on the block, two for fives\n  Deep in the struggles but need the hustle\n  Weed and blow shit I make the block bubble\n  I'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\n  Fool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\n  Medieval times in the chest of the beast\n  Come around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\n  Job lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\n  It's not America, son this is Brooklyn\n  Home of the shiesty, home of the crook\n  We signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\n  My country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\n  Just misery, ya heard me\n\n  Now why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\n  If six dead people run this country\n  Now they come cause my crew's too large\n  Who the fuck put chu' in charge\n  Runnin' around here like you is God\n  Then they wonder why the shootin' starts\n  Gettin' checks with half my stacks\n  I forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\n  Murderin' people for blastin' facts\n  Then blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\n  I'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\n  Cops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\n  So they clap and they brawl in hysteria\n  Tappin' Jackson callin' this area\n  Green gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\n  Don't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\n  Uh, yo what about these streets here\n  Before y'all creep here\n  Look around we there\n  365 days a year\n  Lines to cross no fear\n  And what appears to be roses\n  See I'm knowin' this\n  When I chose this\n  What's right\n  In broad day or night\n  More dope deals\n  I'm tryin' to stay on my heels\n  Every day's training day\n  Some things not in explainin' ways\n  Who said crimes don't pay\n  Choices to make\n  Ain't too many chances left to take\n  Things look so green\n  The sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\n  What you made of\n  Either hate or love\n  Pressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\n  A little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\n  A little peace in me\n  A little piece of you (This is not America)\n  A little peace in me\n  Will go\n\n  Yo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\n  Racial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\n  I'm up to par lookin'\n  I know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\n  Took my hard white\n  Had niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\n  Arrest me, come to court and lie\n  Yeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\n  What chu' want those is me of the block\n  Yo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\n  Just last summer had the mad Hummer\n  They took that and didn't even give me they badge number\n  So how am I supposed to feel\n  Who I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\n  Word man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\n  Plus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word\n"},{"id":22805788,"name":"American Dream","trackName":"American Dream","artistName":"P Diddy & The Bad Boy Family","albumName":"Training Day","duration":321.462833,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is not America\nBad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\n\nLand where my father died, land where my children cried\nCome on, America, ain't no barriers\nFree the strings, let's see how freedom rings\nOne nation all gettin' down for the dollars\nAnd the heat is gettin' hotter\nBut a lot don't understand\nJust the way some plan to break you\nI done seen the whole thing go straight through\nHungry for it, I'ma make you\nPay back what's due to me\nEverybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\nMade me a monster, two steps beyond ya\nMore streets to wonder\nFor which it stands for cause let's get it\nCause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\nScreens, greens car candy painted\nChicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\nI pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\nSleepless nights on the block, two for fives\nDeep in the struggles but need the hustle\nWeed and blow shit I make the block bubble\nI'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\nFool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\nMedieval times in the chest of the beast\nCome around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\nJob lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\nIt's not America, son this is Brooklyn\nHome of the shiesty, home of the crook\nWe signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\nMy country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\nJust misery, ya heard me\n\nNow why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\nIf six dead people run this country\nNow they come cause my crew's too large\nWho the fuck put chu' in charge\nRunnin' around here like you is God\nThen they wonder why the shootin' starts\nGettin' checks with half my stacks\nI forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\nMurderin' people for blastin' facts\nThen blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\nI'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\nCops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\nSo they clap and they brawl in hysteria\nTappin' Jackson callin' this area\nGreen gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\nDon't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\nUh, yo what about these streets here\nBefore y'all creep here\nLook around we there\n365 days a year\nLines to cross no fear\nAnd what appears to be roses\nSee I'm knowin' this\nWhen I chose this\nWhat's right\nIn broad day or night\nMore dope deals\nI'm tryin' to stay on my heels\nEvery day's training day\nSome things not in explainin' ways\nWho said crimes don't pay\nChoices to make\nAin't too many chances left to take\nThings look so green\nThe sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\nWhat you made of\nEither hate or love\nPressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\nA little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\nA little peace in me\nA little piece of you (This is not America)\nA little peace in me\nWill go\n\nYo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\nRacial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\nI'm up to par lookin'\nI know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\nTook my hard white\nHad niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\nArrest me, come to court and lie\nYeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\nWhat chu' want those is me of the block\nYo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\nJust last summer had the mad Hummer\nThey took that and didn't even give me they badge number\nSo how am I supposed to feel\nWho I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\nWord man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\nPlus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: American Dream\n  artist: P Diddy & The Bad Boy Family\n  album: Training Day\n  duration_ms: 321463\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is not America\n  Bad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n\n  Land where my father died, land where my children cried\n  Come on, America, ain't no barriers\n  Free the strings, let's see how freedom rings\n  One nation all gettin' down for the dollars\n  And the heat is gettin' hotter\n  But a lot don't understand\n  Just the way some plan to break you\n  I done seen the whole thing go straight through\n  Hungry for it, I'ma make you\n  Pay back what's due to me\n  Everybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\n  Made me a monster, two steps beyond ya\n  More streets to wonder\n  For which it stands for cause let's get it\n  Cause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\n  Screens, greens car candy painted\n  Chicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\n  I pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\n  Sleepless nights on the block, two for fives\n  Deep in the struggles but need the hustle\n  Weed and blow shit I make the block bubble\n  I'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\n  Fool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\n  Medieval times in the chest of the beast\n  Come around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\n  Job lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\n  It's not America, son this is Brooklyn\n  Home of the shiesty, home of the crook\n  We signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\n  My country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\n  Just misery, ya heard me\n\n  Now why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\n  If six dead people run this country\n  Now they come cause my crew's too large\n  Who the fuck put chu' in charge\n  Runnin' around here like you is God\n  Then they wonder why the shootin' starts\n  Gettin' checks with half my stacks\n  I forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\n  Murderin' people for blastin' facts\n  Then blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\n  I'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\n  Cops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\n  So they clap and they brawl in hysteria\n  Tappin' Jackson callin' this area\n  Green gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\n  Don't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\n  Uh, yo what about these streets here\n  Before y'all creep here\n  Look around we there\n  365 days a year\n  Lines to cross no fear\n  And what appears to be roses\n  See I'm knowin' this\n  When I chose this\n  What's right\n  In broad day or night\n  More dope deals\n  I'm tryin' to stay on my heels\n  Every day's training day\n  Some things not in explainin' ways\n  Who said crimes don't pay\n  Choices to make\n  Ain't too many chances left to take\n  Things look so green\n  The sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\n  What you made of\n  Either hate or love\n  Pressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\n  A little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\n  A little peace in me\n  A little piece of you (This is not America)\n  A little peace in me\n  Will go\n\n  Yo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\n  Racial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\n  I'm up to par lookin'\n  I know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\n  Took my hard white\n  Had niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\n  Arrest me, come to court and lie\n  Yeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\n  What chu' want those is me of the block\n  Yo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\n  Just last summer had the mad Hummer\n  They took that and didn't even give me they badge number\n  So how am I supposed to feel\n  Who I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\n  Word man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\n  Plus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word\n"},{"id":17278395,"name":"American Dream","trackName":"American Dream","artistName":"P Diddy & The Bad Boy Family (Feat David Bowie)","albumName":"Training Day","duration":321.46816,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is not America\nBad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\n\nLand where my father died, land where my children cried\nCome on, America, ain't no barriers\nFree the strings, let's see how freedom rings\nOne nation all gettin' down for the dollars\nAnd the heat is gettin' hotter\nBut a lot don't understand\nJust the way some plan to break you\nI done seen the whole thing go straight through\nHungry for it, I'ma make you\nPay back what's due to me\nEverybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\nMade me a monster, two steps beyond ya\nMore streets to wonder\nFor which it stands for cause let's get it\nCause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\nScreens, greens car candy painted\nChicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\nI pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\nSleepless nights on the block, two for fives\nDeep in the struggles but need the hustle\nWeed and blow shit I make the block bubble\nI'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\nFool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\nMedieval times in the chest of the beast\nCome around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\nJob lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\nIt's not America, son this is Brooklyn\nHome of the shiesty, home of the crook\nWe signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\nMy country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\nJust misery, ya heard me\n\nNow why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\nIf six dead people run this country\nNow they come cause my crew's too large\nWho the fuck put chu' in charge\nRunnin' around here like you is God\nThen they wonder why the shootin' starts\nGettin' checks with half my stacks\nI forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\nMurderin' people for blastin' facts\nThen blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\nI'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\nCops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\nSo they clap and they brawl in hysteria\nTappin' Jackson callin' this area\nGreen gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\nDon't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\nUh, yo what about these streets here\nBefore y'all creep here\nLook around we there\n365 days a year\nLines to cross no fear\nAnd what appears to be roses\nSee I'm knowin' this\nWhen I chose this\nWhat's right\nIn broad day or night\nMore dope deals\nI'm tryin' to stay on my heels\nEvery day's training day\nSome things not in explainin' ways\nWho said crimes don't pay\nChoices to make\nAin't too many chances left to take\nThings look so green\nThe sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\nWhat you made of\nEither hate or love\nPressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\nA little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\nA little peace in me\nA little piece of you (This is not America)\nA little peace in me\nWill go\n\nYo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\nRacial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\nI'm up to par lookin'\nI know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\nTook my hard white\nHad niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\nArrest me, come to court and lie\nYeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\nWhat chu' want those is me of the block\nYo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\nJust last summer had the mad Hummer\nThey took that and didn't even give me they badge number\nSo how am I supposed to feel\nWho I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\nWord man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\nPlus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: American Dream\n  artist: P Diddy & The Bad Boy Family (Feat David Bowie)\n  album: Training Day\n  duration_ms: 321468\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is not America\n  Bad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n\n  Land where my father died, land where my children cried\n  Come on, America, ain't no barriers\n  Free the strings, let's see how freedom rings\n  One nation all gettin' down for the dollars\n  And the heat is gettin' hotter\n  But a lot don't understand\n  Just the way some plan to break you\n  I done seen the whole thing go straight through\n  Hungry for it, I'ma make you\n  Pay back what's due to me\n  Everybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\n  Made me a monster, two steps beyond ya\n  More streets to wonder\n  For which it stands for cause let's get it\n  Cause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\n  Screens, greens car candy painted\n  Chicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\n  I pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\n  Sleepless nights on the block, two for fives\n  Deep in the struggles but need the hustle\n  Weed and blow shit I make the block bubble\n  I'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\n  Fool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\n  Medieval times in the chest of the beast\n  Come around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\n  Job lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\n  It's not America, son this is Brooklyn\n  Home of the shiesty, home of the crook\n  We signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\n  My country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\n  Just misery, ya heard me\n\n  Now why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\n  If six dead people run this country\n  Now they come cause my crew's too large\n  Who the fuck put chu' in charge\n  Runnin' around here like you is God\n  Then they wonder why the shootin' starts\n  Gettin' checks with half my stacks\n  I forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\n  Murderin' people for blastin' facts\n  Then blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\n  I'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\n  Cops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\n  So they clap and they brawl in hysteria\n  Tappin' Jackson callin' this area\n  Green gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\n  Don't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\n  Uh, yo what about these streets here\n  Before y'all creep here\n  Look around we there\n  365 days a year\n  Lines to cross no fear\n  And what appears to be roses\n  See I'm knowin' this\n  When I chose this\n  What's right\n  In broad day or night\n  More dope deals\n  I'm tryin' to stay on my heels\n  Every day's training day\n  Some things not in explainin' ways\n  Who said crimes don't pay\n  Choices to make\n  Ain't too many chances left to take\n  Things look so green\n  The sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\n  What you made of\n  Either hate or love\n  Pressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\n  A little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\n  A little peace in me\n  A little piece of you (This is not America)\n  A little peace in me\n  Will go\n\n  Yo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\n  Racial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\n  I'm up to par lookin'\n  I know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\n  Took my hard white\n  Had niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\n  Arrest me, come to court and lie\n  Yeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\n  What chu' want those is me of the block\n  Yo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\n  Just last summer had the mad Hummer\n  They took that and didn't even give me they badge number\n  So how am I supposed to feel\n  Who I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\n  Word man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\n  Plus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word\n"},{"id":17294352,"name":"American Dream","trackName":"American Dream","artistName":"P. Diddy and the Bad Boy Family feat David Bowie","albumName":"Training Day: the Soundtrack","duration":321.48898,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is not America\nBad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\n\nLand where my father died, land where my children cried\nCome on, America, ain't no barriers\nFree the strings, let's see how freedom rings\nOne nation all gettin' down for the dollars\nAnd the heat is gettin' hotter\nBut a lot don't understand\nJust the way some plan to break you\nI done seen the whole thing go straight through\nHungry for it, I'ma make you\nPay back what's due to me\nEverybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\nMade me a monster, two steps beyond ya\nMore streets to wonder\nFor which it stands for cause let's get it\nCause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\nScreens, greens car candy painted\nChicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\nI pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\nSleepless nights on the block, two for fives\nDeep in the struggles but need the hustle\nWeed and blow shit I make the block bubble\nI'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\nFool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\nMedieval times in the chest of the beast\nCome around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\nJob lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\nIt's not America, son this is Brooklyn\nHome of the shiesty, home of the crook\nWe signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\nMy country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\nJust misery, ya heard me\n\nNow why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\nIf six dead people run this country\nNow they come cause my crew's too large\nWho the fuck put chu' in charge\nRunnin' around here like you is God\nThen they wonder why the shootin' starts\nGettin' checks with half my stacks\nI forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\nMurderin' people for blastin' facts\nThen blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\nI'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\nCops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\nSo they clap and they brawl in hysteria\nTappin' Jackson callin' this area\nGreen gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\nDon't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\nUh, yo what about these streets here\nBefore y'all creep here\nLook around we there\n365 days a year\nLines to cross no fear\nAnd what appears to be roses\nSee I'm knowin' this\nWhen I chose this\nWhat's right\nIn broad day or night\nMore dope deals\nI'm tryin' to stay on my heels\nEvery day's training day\nSome things not in explainin' ways\nWho said crimes don't pay\nChoices to make\nAin't too many chances left to take\nThings look so green\nThe sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\nWhat you made of\nEither hate or love\nPressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\nA little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\nA little peace in me\nA little piece of you (This is not America)\nA little peace in me\nWill go\n\nYo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\nRacial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\nI'm up to par lookin'\nI know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\nTook my hard white\nHad niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\nArrest me, come to court and lie\nYeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\nWhat chu' want those is me of the block\nYo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\nJust last summer had the mad Hummer\nThey took that and didn't even give me they badge number\nSo how am I supposed to feel\nWho I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\nWord man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\nPlus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: American Dream\n  artist: P. Diddy and the Bad Boy Family feat David Bowie\n  album: 'Training Day: the Soundtrack'\n  duration_ms: 321489\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is not America\n  Bad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n\n  Land where my father died, land where my children cried\n  Come on, America, ain't no barriers\n  Free the strings, let's see how freedom rings\n  One nation all gettin' down for the dollars\n  And the heat is gettin' hotter\n  But a lot don't understand\n  Just the way some plan to break you\n  I done seen the whole thing go straight through\n  Hungry for it, I'ma make you\n  Pay back what's due to me\n  Everybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\n  Made me a monster, two steps beyond ya\n  More streets to wonder\n  For which it stands for cause let's get it\n  Cause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\n  Screens, greens car candy painted\n  Chicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\n  I pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\n  Sleepless nights on the block, two for fives\n  Deep in the struggles but need the hustle\n  Weed and blow shit I make the block bubble\n  I'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\n  Fool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\n  Medieval times in the chest of the beast\n  Come around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\n  Job lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\n  It's not America, son this is Brooklyn\n  Home of the shiesty, home of the crook\n  We signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\n  My country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\n  Just misery, ya heard me\n\n  Now why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\n  If six dead people run this country\n  Now they come cause my crew's too large\n  Who the fuck put chu' in charge\n  Runnin' around here like you is God\n  Then they wonder why the shootin' starts\n  Gettin' checks with half my stacks\n  I forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\n  Murderin' people for blastin' facts\n  Then blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\n  I'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\n  Cops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\n  So they clap and they brawl in hysteria\n  Tappin' Jackson callin' this area\n  Green gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\n  Don't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\n  Uh, yo what about these streets here\n  Before y'all creep here\n  Look around we there\n  365 days a year\n  Lines to cross no fear\n  And what appears to be roses\n  See I'm knowin' this\n  When I chose this\n  What's right\n  In broad day or night\n  More dope deals\n  I'm tryin' to stay on my heels\n  Every day's training day\n  Some things not in explainin' ways\n  Who said crimes don't pay\n  Choices to make\n  Ain't too many chances left to take\n  Things look so green\n  The sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\n  What you made of\n  Either hate or love\n  Pressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\n  A little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\n  A little peace in me\n  A little piece of you (This is not America)\n  A little peace in me\n  Will go\n\n  Yo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\n  Racial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\n  I'm up to par lookin'\n  I know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\n  Took my hard white\n  Had niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\n  Arrest me, come to court and lie\n  Yeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\n  What chu' want those is me of the block\n  Yo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\n  Just last summer had the mad Hummer\n  They took that and didn't even give me they badge number\n  So how am I supposed to feel\n  Who I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\n  Word man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\n  Plus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word\n"},{"id":1560604,"name":"American Dream (Feat. David Bowie)","trackName":"American Dream (Feat. David Bowie)","artistName":"P. Diddy Feat The Bad Boy Family","albumName":"Training Day The Soundtrack","duration":321.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is not America\nBad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\n\nLand where my father died, land where my children cried\nCome on, America, ain't no barriers\nFree the strings, let's see how freedom rings\nOne nation all gettin' down for the dollars\nAnd the heat is gettin' hotter\nBut a lot don't understand\nJust the way some plan to break you\nI done seen the whole thing go straight through\nHungry for it, I'ma make you\nPay back what's due to me\nEverybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\nMade me a monster, two steps beyond ya\nMore streets to wonder\nFor which it stands for cause let's get it\nCause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\nScreens, greens car candy painted\nChicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\nI pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\nSleepless nights on the block, two for fives\nDeep in the struggles but need the hustle\nWeed and blow shit I make the block bubble\nI'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\nFool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\nMedieval times in the chest of the beast\nCome around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\nJob lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\nIt's not America, son this is Brooklyn\nHome of the shiesty, home of the crook\nWe signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\nMy country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\nJust misery, ya heard me\n\nNow why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\nIf six dead people run this country\nNow they come cause my crew's too large\nWho the fuck put chu' in charge\nRunnin' around here like you is God\nThen they wonder why the shootin' starts\nGettin' checks with half my stacks\nI forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\nMurderin' people for blastin' facts\nThen blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\nI'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\nCops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\nSo they clap and they brawl in hysteria\nTappin' Jackson callin' this area\nGreen gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\nDon't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\nUh, yo what about these streets here\nBefore y'all creep here\nLook around we there\n365 days a year\nLines to cross no fear\nAnd what appears to be roses\nSee I'm knowin' this\nWhen I chose this\nWhat's right\nIn broad day or night\nMore dope deals\nI'm tryin' to stay on my heels\nEvery day's training day\nSome things not in explainin' ways\nWho said crimes don't pay\nChoices to make\nAin't too many chances left to take\nThings look so green\nThe sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\nWhat you made of\nEither hate or love\nPressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\nA little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\nA little peace in me\nA little piece of you (This is not America)\nA little peace in me\nWill go\n\nYo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\nRacial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\nI'm up to par lookin'\nI know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\nTook my hard white\nHad niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\nArrest me, come to court and lie\nYeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\nWhat chu' want those is me of the block\nYo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\nJust last summer had the mad Hummer\nThey took that and didn't even give me they badge number\nSo how am I supposed to feel\nWho I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\nWord man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\nPlus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: American Dream (Feat. David Bowie)\n  artist: P. Diddy Feat The Bad Boy Family\n  album: Training Day The Soundtrack\n  duration_ms: 321000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is not America\n  Bad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n\n  Land where my father died, land where my children cried\n  Come on, America, ain't no barriers\n  Free the strings, let's see how freedom rings\n  One nation all gettin' down for the dollars\n  And the heat is gettin' hotter\n  But a lot don't understand\n  Just the way some plan to break you\n  I done seen the whole thing go straight through\n  Hungry for it, I'ma make you\n  Pay back what's due to me\n  Everybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\n  Made me a monster, two steps beyond ya\n  More streets to wonder\n  For which it stands for cause let's get it\n  Cause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\n  Screens, greens car candy painted\n  Chicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\n  I pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\n  Sleepless nights on the block, two for fives\n  Deep in the struggles but need the hustle\n  Weed and blow shit I make the block bubble\n  I'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\n  Fool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\n  Medieval times in the chest of the beast\n  Come around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\n  Job lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\n  It's not America, son this is Brooklyn\n  Home of the shiesty, home of the crook\n  We signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\n  My country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\n  Just misery, ya heard me\n\n  Now why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\n  If six dead people run this country\n  Now they come cause my crew's too large\n  Who the fuck put chu' in charge\n  Runnin' around here like you is God\n  Then they wonder why the shootin' starts\n  Gettin' checks with half my stacks\n  I forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\n  Murderin' people for blastin' facts\n  Then blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\n  I'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\n  Cops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\n  So they clap and they brawl in hysteria\n  Tappin' Jackson callin' this area\n  Green gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\n  Don't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\n  Uh, yo what about these streets here\n  Before y'all creep here\n  Look around we there\n  365 days a year\n  Lines to cross no fear\n  And what appears to be roses\n  See I'm knowin' this\n  When I chose this\n  What's right\n  In broad day or night\n  More dope deals\n  I'm tryin' to stay on my heels\n  Every day's training day\n  Some things not in explainin' ways\n  Who said crimes don't pay\n  Choices to make\n  Ain't too many chances left to take\n  Things look so green\n  The sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\n  What you made of\n  Either hate or love\n  Pressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\n  A little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\n  A little peace in me\n  A little piece of you (This is not America)\n  A little peace in me\n  Will go\n\n  Yo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\n  Racial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\n  I'm up to par lookin'\n  I know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\n  Took my hard white\n  Had niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\n  Arrest me, come to court and lie\n  Yeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\n  What chu' want those is me of the block\n  Yo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\n  Just last summer had the mad Hummer\n  They took that and didn't even give me they badge number\n  So how am I supposed to feel\n  Who I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\n  Word man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\n  Plus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word\n"},{"id":21080250,"name":"American Dream (ft. David Bowie)","trackName":"American Dream (ft. David Bowie)","artistName":"P. Diddy and the Bad Boy Family","albumName":"Training Day","duration":321.503492,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"This is not America\nBad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\nThis is not America\n\nLand where my father died, land where my children cried\nCome on, America, ain't no barriers\nFree the strings, let's see how freedom rings\nOne nation all gettin' down for the dollars\nAnd the heat is gettin' hotter\nBut a lot don't understand\nJust the way some plan to break you\nI done seen the whole thing go straight through\nHungry for it, I'ma make you\nPay back what's due to me\nEverybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\nMade me a monster, two steps beyond ya\nMore streets to wonder\nFor which it stands for cause let's get it\nCause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\nScreens, greens car candy painted\nChicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\nI pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\nSleepless nights on the block, two for fives\nDeep in the struggles but need the hustle\nWeed and blow shit I make the block bubble\nI'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\nFool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\nMedieval times in the chest of the beast\nCome around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\nJob lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\nIt's not America, son this is Brooklyn\nHome of the shiesty, home of the crook\nWe signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\nMy country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\nJust misery, ya heard me\n\nNow why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\nIf six dead people run this country\nNow they come cause my crew's too large\nWho the fuck put chu' in charge\nRunnin' around here like you is God\nThen they wonder why the shootin' starts\nGettin' checks with half my stacks\nI forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\nMurderin' people for blastin' facts\nThen blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\nI'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\nCops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\nSo they clap and they brawl in hysteria\nTappin' Jackson callin' this area\nGreen gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\nDon't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\nUh, yo what about these streets here\nBefore y'all creep here\nLook around we there\n365 days a year\nLines to cross no fear\nAnd what appears to be roses\nSee I'm knowin' this\nWhen I chose this\nWhat's right\nIn broad day or night\nMore dope deals\nI'm tryin' to stay on my heels\nEvery day's training day\nSome things not in explainin' ways\nWho said crimes don't pay\nChoices to make\nAin't too many chances left to take\nThings look so green\nThe sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\nWhat you made of\nEither hate or love\nPressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\nA little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\nA little peace in me\nA little piece of you (This is not America)\nA little peace in me\nWill go\n\nYo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\nRacial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\nI'm up to par lookin'\nI know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\nTook my hard white\nHad niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\nArrest me, come to court and lie\nYeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\nWhat chu' want those is me of the block\nYo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\nJust last summer had the mad Hummer\nThey took that and didn't even give me they badge number\nSo how am I supposed to feel\nWho I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\nWord man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\nPlus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: American Dream (ft. David Bowie)\n  artist: P. Diddy and the Bad Boy Family\n  album: Training Day\n  duration_ms: 321503\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  This is not America\n  Bad Boy baby, David Bowie, let's go\n\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n  This is not America\n\n  Land where my father died, land where my children cried\n  Come on, America, ain't no barriers\n  Free the strings, let's see how freedom rings\n  One nation all gettin' down for the dollars\n  And the heat is gettin' hotter\n  But a lot don't understand\n  Just the way some plan to break you\n  I done seen the whole thing go straight through\n  Hungry for it, I'ma make you\n  Pay back what's due to me\n  Everybody gonna see, look what they put upon me\n  Made me a monster, two steps beyond ya\n  More streets to wonder\n  For which it stands for cause let's get it\n  Cause I'ma get mine for damn sure, come on\n\n  Screens, greens car candy painted\n  Chicks in cream is the American dream, ain't it?\n  I pledge allegiance to Beamers, dark skies\n  Sleepless nights on the block, two for fives\n  Deep in the struggles but need the hustle\n  Weed and blow shit I make the block bubble\n  I'm to the point where I'm playa hatin'\n  Fool in the stash and I'm losin' my patience\n  Medieval times in the chest of the beast\n  Come around sniffin' I'ma mess up ya fleece\n  Job lookin' I'd rather be pot cookin'\n  It's not America, son this is Brooklyn\n  Home of the shiesty, home of the crook\n  We signed joints, ain't scared to do a took\n  My country tis of thee, where there's no liberty\n  Just misery, ya heard me\n\n  Now why can't I breathe with a gun and come free\n  If six dead people run this country\n  Now they come cause my crew's too large\n  Who the fuck put chu' in charge\n  Runnin' around here like you is God\n  Then they wonder why the shootin' starts\n  Gettin' checks with half my stacks\n  I forgot George Bush wrote half my raps\n  Murderin' people for blastin' facts\n  Then blamin' other cats for their tragic acts\n  I'm tryin' to get paid till my eyes is closin'\n  Cops is like freeze and I'm already frozen\n  So they clap and they brawl in hysteria\n  Tappin' Jackson callin' this area\n  Green gots cats crawlin' to bury ya\n  Don't blame Kain for the fall of America\n\n  Uh, yo what about these streets here\n  Before y'all creep here\n  Look around we there\n  365 days a year\n  Lines to cross no fear\n  And what appears to be roses\n  See I'm knowin' this\n  When I chose this\n  What's right\n  In broad day or night\n  More dope deals\n  I'm tryin' to stay on my heels\n  Every day's training day\n  Some things not in explainin' ways\n  Who said crimes don't pay\n  Choices to make\n  Ain't too many chances left to take\n  Things look so green\n  The sign of the times corruption politics, youg ones dyin'\n  What you made of\n  Either hate or love\n  Pressure on the nine when push come to shove\n\n  A little piece of you (I'm ya worst nightmare)\n  A little peace in me\n  A little piece of you (This is not America)\n  A little peace in me\n  Will go\n\n  Yo, why you cocksuckers pullin' me over\n  Racial profilin' me cause I ain't pushin' no Nova\n  I'm up to par lookin'\n  I know police corruption is up this year and y'all crooked\n  Took my hard white\n  Had niggas sellin' the same block, pumpin' the same night\n  Arrest me, come to court and lie\n  Yeah that's him, pointin' like I'm the guy\n  What chu' want those is me of the block\n  Yo, so you can serve fiends everytime they knock\n  Just last summer had the mad Hummer\n  They took that and didn't even give me they badge number\n  So how am I supposed to feel\n  Who I'm supposed to call when the shit gets real\n  Word man I'd rather dial 8-1-1 when it's important\n  Plus they ain't tryin' to score like Ed Norton, word\n"}]