[{"id":40121345,"name":"Closed Session","trackName":"Closed Session","artistName":"Dilated Peoples","albumName":"Neighborhood Watch","duration":374.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[Intro: Evidence & (Babu)\nYo, yo, Babs, close the door right there\n\nI see Phil (what up?), Defari, Planet Asia (that's right)\nWe got spitters in here, man\nI got sixteen, you got sixteen (that's right)\nI'ma set up shop right here\nYo, close that door, it's a closed session\n\nFor our peoples right here (it's like that)\nAcross the globe (ha-ha)\nYo, Babu, set up shop right there\nIt's Beat Junkies crew\n\nShow everybody how we do it\nIt's closed session\nYo, Sigel, put the mic up, c'mon, let's go\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, from here on\nIn, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\nI kicked in the door like Biggie\nWaving a fo'-fo' with a black Laker beanie\n\nI pressed up on the PD\nTold 'em better play my shit and act like you happy to see me\n\nI'm Los Angeles' finest\nHow many times I gotta say it? Fuck it, remind 'em\nI'm from the Likwit, know my pedigree\nIt's hard work like my Uncle Bellamy, rest in peace\nI like my freedom so no felonies\nThere's glory in going to jail? That's what you telling me?\nYou sound stupid like a prophecy\nHow can a man predict truth when he can't predict his next move?\nI keep it moving like a Rolex\nHit the mini-meter long sleeve fo' X\n\nI need a doo-rag in USC burgundy\nI got a show and when I flow, oh yeah, they heard of me\nHere I am like Sanchez\nDon't give a damn, I'll be rhyming with my grandkids\nShit, it's hip hop since the beginning\nAnd it's gon' be hip hop 'til the ending, please believe\nI'm certified like a doctor\nExcept I'm off the Red Bull and that vodka just for the night\nI'm impresario and eloquent with every word\nNeighborhood watch, I bend corners every curb\n\nDanger, danger, the end is coming closer\nThis wild west cat keeps Tabasco in his holster\nI got a lasso that loops over your shoulder\nAnd a dangerous crew like Too $hort, it's over\n\nTo three hundred thousand cats, I'm back\nTo the rest of the world, it's the greatest new jack\nI'm out for the city, back when it wasn't that pretty\nNo autographs, only signing those walls doing graffiti\n\nI'ma sit up and laugh how I crept it\nGot a little respect, then did the unexpected\n\nDisappeared then came back reinvented\nFrom Venice, where cats got nines like Akademiks\nI'm Evidence, rather be your friend than foe\nRather break bread than make dough and hating on the low\nLegacies built for those who can't admit to guilt\nAnd move on, it's our turn, it's our time, the deal is sealed\n\nWho knew Babu would come up with the track\nTo make Evidence write up the raps?\nThe cause, feel the agony to react, Dilated's on the map\nPlanet Asia, Defari, Iriscience, we back\nPistol packing backpack rap\nStomp tracks all over your neighborhood so you can follow 'em back\nDinosaur, used to be a Northridge matador\n'Til the Alkaholiks took me on tour, sweating velours\nSure as the sun'll rise, feel the rise of the occasion\nPlayStation, tours like vacations\n\nY'all need ventilation when I start blazing\nThe Amazing Spider-Man, would you taste it?\n\nSticky like Peter Parker, my weed a little darker\nThe Amsterdam whoopty bang with the magic marker\nWritten by the ones that's spitting\n\nBitten by the perpetrators and all the haters that watch and listen\nGive these niggas church\nBaptize they bitch ass in the earth like I'm cursed with the verse\n\nSearchlights still looking for me in the Crescent Heights\nThat's right, still got a pair of them Hyperflights\nNighty night, tuck rhymes to bed like nighty night\nStrong arm traps, throw these raps in the sacrifice\nDishing it out, yeah, agony, spliff in the stout\nDilated T, dick in your mouth, bitch!\n\nAyo, white shirt, sleeves folded\nFat monkey on the bitch bumpin my shit usage for promotion only\nPretty Tony slick, witty with thoughts and shit is a sport\nFifth with a blitty to torch, I'm zoning\n\nStrong arming on and on in like\nFour in the morning rolling my motivation, pacing these four corners\nThis is my coronation, Planet Asia's upon us\nHonest, my Pérignon be the most honest\n\nSplash heat, flow half street, half Islamic\nAnd that's what I'm on and you can ask anybody\nI'll crash up in any party, actually nasty with shotties\nAfter me, never could there be another actually rhyming\nMountain climbing these mics, we drop diamonds\nAnd stop time in these tracks, the actual fact is science\nDilated violence, closed session\nI was diagnosed with the essence of lessons from the ancient giants\n\nI'm a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker like Jules\nBang bang, blazing microphones like tools\nWe straight playing suckers out like fools\nAnd turn clubs, even stadiums into night schools\nIt's five-nine, full on wax\nIt's one-eight-seven on rap, pop all over the map\nThe whole bubble, heaven to hell then came back\nI spit a billion bars and never came wack, kid\nYou fucking with a vet, and you should know better\n\nGold medals and letters because I flow better\nI twist up and blaze your whole crew\nThen for munchies, slide down Pico de Mo' Better\nAh, when Babs starts the drillin, you gon' catch the feeling\nWe set the roof on fire and we test the ceiling\nPlus I test my skills with the illest Brazilians\nThe world's a city of God, so God bless the children\nIt's Rakaa, I do much more than talking\n\nI bring that chocolate thunder like Dale Dawkins\nI grew up watching my Lakers fight with Boston\nHardcore Hagler and Hearns type of boxing\nHustling out of mom's crib, had to stop it\nPeyton Belmont, you had to use caution\nRhodium in Midtown swap meet shopping\nAnd fifteen eighty K, they hip hopping\n\nIt's over\nIt's over, man\nOver\nThat's what I'm talking about\nY'all can open the door up, let 'em back in\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, from here on\nIn, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Closed Session\n  artist: Dilated Peoples\n  album: Neighborhood Watch\n  duration_ms: 374000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  [Intro: Evidence & (Babu)\n  Yo, yo, Babs, close the door right there\n\n  I see Phil (what up?), Defari, Planet Asia (that's right)\n  We got spitters in here, man\n  I got sixteen, you got sixteen (that's right)\n  I'ma set up shop right here\n  Yo, close that door, it's a closed session\n\n  For our peoples right here (it's like that)\n  Across the globe (ha-ha)\n  Yo, Babu, set up shop right there\n  It's Beat Junkies crew\n\n  Show everybody how we do it\n  It's closed session\n  Yo, Sigel, put the mic up, c'mon, let's go\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, from here on\n  In, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  I kicked in the door like Biggie\n  Waving a fo'-fo' with a black Laker beanie\n\n  I pressed up on the PD\n  Told 'em better play my shit and act like you happy to see me\n\n  I'm Los Angeles' finest\n  How many times I gotta say it? Fuck it, remind 'em\n  I'm from the Likwit, know my pedigree\n  It's hard work like my Uncle Bellamy, rest in peace\n  I like my freedom so no felonies\n  There's glory in going to jail? That's what you telling me?\n  You sound stupid like a prophecy\n  How can a man predict truth when he can't predict his next move?\n  I keep it moving like a Rolex\n  Hit the mini-meter long sleeve fo' X\n\n  I need a doo-rag in USC burgundy\n  I got a show and when I flow, oh yeah, they heard of me\n  Here I am like Sanchez\n  Don't give a damn, I'll be rhyming with my grandkids\n  Shit, it's hip hop since the beginning\n  And it's gon' be hip hop 'til the ending, please believe\n  I'm certified like a doctor\n  Except I'm off the Red Bull and that vodka just for the night\n  I'm impresario and eloquent with every word\n  Neighborhood watch, I bend corners every curb\n\n  Danger, danger, the end is coming closer\n  This wild west cat keeps Tabasco in his holster\n  I got a lasso that loops over your shoulder\n  And a dangerous crew like Too $hort, it's over\n\n  To three hundred thousand cats, I'm back\n  To the rest of the world, it's the greatest new jack\n  I'm out for the city, back when it wasn't that pretty\n  No autographs, only signing those walls doing graffiti\n\n  I'ma sit up and laugh how I crept it\n  Got a little respect, then did the unexpected\n\n  Disappeared then came back reinvented\n  From Venice, where cats got nines like Akademiks\n  I'm Evidence, rather be your friend than foe\n  Rather break bread than make dough and hating on the low\n  Legacies built for those who can't admit to guilt\n  And move on, it's our turn, it's our time, the deal is sealed\n\n  Who knew Babu would come up with the track\n  To make Evidence write up the raps?\n  The cause, feel the agony to react, Dilated's on the map\n  Planet Asia, Defari, Iriscience, we back\n  Pistol packing backpack rap\n  Stomp tracks all over your neighborhood so you can follow 'em back\n  Dinosaur, used to be a Northridge matador\n  'Til the Alkaholiks took me on tour, sweating velours\n  Sure as the sun'll rise, feel the rise of the occasion\n  PlayStation, tours like vacations\n\n  Y'all need ventilation when I start blazing\n  The Amazing Spider-Man, would you taste it?\n\n  Sticky like Peter Parker, my weed a little darker\n  The Amsterdam whoopty bang with the magic marker\n  Written by the ones that's spitting\n\n  Bitten by the perpetrators and all the haters that watch and listen\n  Give these niggas church\n  Baptize they bitch ass in the earth like I'm cursed with the verse\n\n  Searchlights still looking for me in the Crescent Heights\n  That's right, still got a pair of them Hyperflights\n  Nighty night, tuck rhymes to bed like nighty night\n  Strong arm traps, throw these raps in the sacrifice\n  Dishing it out, yeah, agony, spliff in the stout\n  Dilated T, dick in your mouth, bitch!\n\n  Ayo, white shirt, sleeves folded\n  Fat monkey on the bitch bumpin my shit usage for promotion only\n  Pretty Tony slick, witty with thoughts and shit is a sport\n  Fifth with a blitty to torch, I'm zoning\n\n  Strong arming on and on in like\n  Four in the morning rolling my motivation, pacing these four corners\n  This is my coronation, Planet Asia's upon us\n  Honest, my Pérignon be the most honest\n\n  Splash heat, flow half street, half Islamic\n  And that's what I'm on and you can ask anybody\n  I'll crash up in any party, actually nasty with shotties\n  After me, never could there be another actually rhyming\n  Mountain climbing these mics, we drop diamonds\n  And stop time in these tracks, the actual fact is science\n  Dilated violence, closed session\n  I was diagnosed with the essence of lessons from the ancient giants\n\n  I'm a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker like Jules\n  Bang bang, blazing microphones like tools\n  We straight playing suckers out like fools\n  And turn clubs, even stadiums into night schools\n  It's five-nine, full on wax\n  It's one-eight-seven on rap, pop all over the map\n  The whole bubble, heaven to hell then came back\n  I spit a billion bars and never came wack, kid\n  You fucking with a vet, and you should know better\n\n  Gold medals and letters because I flow better\n  I twist up and blaze your whole crew\n  Then for munchies, slide down Pico de Mo' Better\n  Ah, when Babs starts the drillin, you gon' catch the feeling\n  We set the roof on fire and we test the ceiling\n  Plus I test my skills with the illest Brazilians\n  The world's a city of God, so God bless the children\n  It's Rakaa, I do much more than talking\n\n  I bring that chocolate thunder like Dale Dawkins\n  I grew up watching my Lakers fight with Boston\n  Hardcore Hagler and Hearns type of boxing\n  Hustling out of mom's crib, had to stop it\n  Peyton Belmont, you had to use caution\n  Rhodium in Midtown swap meet shopping\n  And fifteen eighty K, they hip hopping\n\n  It's over\n  It's over, man\n  Over\n  That's what I'm talking about\n  Y'all can open the door up, let 'em back in\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, from here on\n  In, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n"},{"id":40124305,"name":"Closed Session","trackName":"Closed Session","artistName":"Dilated Peoples","albumName":"Neighborhood Watch","duration":375.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[Intro: Evidence & (Babu)\nYo, yo, Babs, close the door right there\n\nI see Phil (what up?), Defari, Planet Asia (that's right)\nWe got spitters in here, man\nI got sixteen, you got sixteen (that's right)\nI'ma set up shop right here\nYo, close that door, it's a closed session\n\nFor our peoples right here (it's like that)\nAcross the globe (ha-ha)\nYo, Babu, set up shop right there\nIt's Beat Junkies crew\n\nShow everybody how we do it\nIt's closed session\nYo, Sigel, put the mic up, c'mon, let's go\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, from here on\nIn, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\nI kicked in the door like Biggie\nWaving a fo'-fo' with a black Laker beanie\n\nI pressed up on the PD\nTold 'em better play my shit and act like you happy to see me\n\nI'm Los Angeles' finest\nHow many times I gotta say it? Fuck it, remind 'em\nI'm from the Likwit, know my pedigree\nIt's hard work like my Uncle Bellamy, rest in peace\nI like my freedom so no felonies\nThere's glory in going to jail? That's what you telling me?\nYou sound stupid like a prophecy\nHow can a man predict truth when he can't predict his next move?\nI keep it moving like a Rolex\nHit the mini-meter long sleeve fo' X\n\nI need a doo-rag in USC burgundy\nI got a show and when I flow, oh yeah, they heard of me\nHere I am like Sanchez\nDon't give a damn, I'll be rhyming with my grandkids\nShit, it's hip hop since the beginning\nAnd it's gon' be hip hop 'til the ending, please believe\nI'm certified like a doctor\nExcept I'm off the Red Bull and that vodka just for the night\nI'm impresario and eloquent with every word\nNeighborhood watch, I bend corners every curb\n\nDanger, danger, the end is coming closer\nThis wild west cat keeps Tabasco in his holster\nI got a lasso that loops over your shoulder\nAnd a dangerous crew like Too $hort, it's over\n\nTo three hundred thousand cats, I'm back\nTo the rest of the world, it's the greatest new jack\nI'm out for the city, back when it wasn't that pretty\nNo autographs, only signing those walls doing graffiti\n\nI'ma sit up and laugh how I crept it\nGot a little respect, then did the unexpected\n\nDisappeared then came back reinvented\nFrom Venice, where cats got nines like Akademiks\nI'm Evidence, rather be your friend than foe\nRather break bread than make dough and hating on the low\nLegacies built for those who can't admit to guilt\nAnd move on, it's our turn, it's our time, the deal is sealed\n\nWho knew Babu would come up with the track\nTo make Evidence write up the raps?\nThe cause, feel the agony to react, Dilated's on the map\nPlanet Asia, Defari, Iriscience, we back\nPistol packing backpack rap\nStomp tracks all over your neighborhood so you can follow 'em back\nDinosaur, used to be a Northridge matador\n'Til the Alkaholiks took me on tour, sweating velours\nSure as the sun'll rise, feel the rise of the occasion\nPlayStation, tours like vacations\n\nY'all need ventilation when I start blazing\nThe Amazing Spider-Man, would you taste it?\n\nSticky like Peter Parker, my weed a little darker\nThe Amsterdam whoopty bang with the magic marker\nWritten by the ones that's spitting\n\nBitten by the perpetrators and all the haters that watch and listen\nGive these niggas church\nBaptize they bitch ass in the earth like I'm cursed with the verse\n\nSearchlights still looking for me in the Crescent Heights\nThat's right, still got a pair of them Hyperflights\nNighty night, tuck rhymes to bed like nighty night\nStrong arm traps, throw these raps in the sacrifice\nDishing it out, yeah, agony, spliff in the stout\nDilated T, dick in your mouth, bitch!\n\nAyo, white shirt, sleeves folded\nFat monkey on the bitch bumpin my shit usage for promotion only\nPretty Tony slick, witty with thoughts and shit is a sport\nFifth with a blitty to torch, I'm zoning\n\nStrong arming on and on in like\nFour in the morning rolling my motivation, pacing these four corners\nThis is my coronation, Planet Asia's upon us\nHonest, my Pérignon be the most honest\n\nSplash heat, flow half street, half Islamic\nAnd that's what I'm on and you can ask anybody\nI'll crash up in any party, actually nasty with shotties\nAfter me, never could there be another actually rhyming\nMountain climbing these mics, we drop diamonds\nAnd stop time in these tracks, the actual fact is science\nDilated violence, closed session\nI was diagnosed with the essence of lessons from the ancient giants\n\nI'm a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker like Jules\nBang bang, blazing microphones like tools\nWe straight playing suckers out like fools\nAnd turn clubs, even stadiums into night schools\nIt's five-nine, full on wax\nIt's one-eight-seven on rap, pop all over the map\nThe whole bubble, heaven to hell then came back\nI spit a billion bars and never came wack, kid\nYou fucking with a vet, and you should know better\n\nGold medals and letters because I flow better\nI twist up and blaze your whole crew\nThen for munchies, slide down Pico de Mo' Better\nAh, when Babs starts the drillin, you gon' catch the feeling\nWe set the roof on fire and we test the ceiling\nPlus I test my skills with the illest Brazilians\nThe world's a city of God, so God bless the children\nIt's Rakaa, I do much more than talking\n\nI bring that chocolate thunder like Dale Dawkins\nI grew up watching my Lakers fight with Boston\nHardcore Hagler and Hearns type of boxing\nHustling out of mom's crib, had to stop it\nPeyton Belmont, you had to use caution\nRhodium in Midtown swap meet shopping\nAnd fifteen eighty K, they hip hopping\n\nIt's over\nIt's over, man\nOver\nThat's what I'm talking about\nY'all can open the door up, let 'em back in\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, from here on\nIn, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Closed Session\n  artist: Dilated Peoples\n  album: Neighborhood Watch\n  duration_ms: 374560\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  [Intro: Evidence & (Babu)\n  Yo, yo, Babs, close the door right there\n\n  I see Phil (what up?), Defari, Planet Asia (that's right)\n  We got spitters in here, man\n  I got sixteen, you got sixteen (that's right)\n  I'ma set up shop right here\n  Yo, close that door, it's a closed session\n\n  For our peoples right here (it's like that)\n  Across the globe (ha-ha)\n  Yo, Babu, set up shop right there\n  It's Beat Junkies crew\n\n  Show everybody how we do it\n  It's closed session\n  Yo, Sigel, put the mic up, c'mon, let's go\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, from here on\n  In, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  I kicked in the door like Biggie\n  Waving a fo'-fo' with a black Laker beanie\n\n  I pressed up on the PD\n  Told 'em better play my shit and act like you happy to see me\n\n  I'm Los Angeles' finest\n  How many times I gotta say it? Fuck it, remind 'em\n  I'm from the Likwit, know my pedigree\n  It's hard work like my Uncle Bellamy, rest in peace\n  I like my freedom so no felonies\n  There's glory in going to jail? That's what you telling me?\n  You sound stupid like a prophecy\n  How can a man predict truth when he can't predict his next move?\n  I keep it moving like a Rolex\n  Hit the mini-meter long sleeve fo' X\n\n  I need a doo-rag in USC burgundy\n  I got a show and when I flow, oh yeah, they heard of me\n  Here I am like Sanchez\n  Don't give a damn, I'll be rhyming with my grandkids\n  Shit, it's hip hop since the beginning\n  And it's gon' be hip hop 'til the ending, please believe\n  I'm certified like a doctor\n  Except I'm off the Red Bull and that vodka just for the night\n  I'm impresario and eloquent with every word\n  Neighborhood watch, I bend corners every curb\n\n  Danger, danger, the end is coming closer\n  This wild west cat keeps Tabasco in his holster\n  I got a lasso that loops over your shoulder\n  And a dangerous crew like Too $hort, it's over\n\n  To three hundred thousand cats, I'm back\n  To the rest of the world, it's the greatest new jack\n  I'm out for the city, back when it wasn't that pretty\n  No autographs, only signing those walls doing graffiti\n\n  I'ma sit up and laugh how I crept it\n  Got a little respect, then did the unexpected\n\n  Disappeared then came back reinvented\n  From Venice, where cats got nines like Akademiks\n  I'm Evidence, rather be your friend than foe\n  Rather break bread than make dough and hating on the low\n  Legacies built for those who can't admit to guilt\n  And move on, it's our turn, it's our time, the deal is sealed\n\n  Who knew Babu would come up with the track\n  To make Evidence write up the raps?\n  The cause, feel the agony to react, Dilated's on the map\n  Planet Asia, Defari, Iriscience, we back\n  Pistol packing backpack rap\n  Stomp tracks all over your neighborhood so you can follow 'em back\n  Dinosaur, used to be a Northridge matador\n  'Til the Alkaholiks took me on tour, sweating velours\n  Sure as the sun'll rise, feel the rise of the occasion\n  PlayStation, tours like vacations\n\n  Y'all need ventilation when I start blazing\n  The Amazing Spider-Man, would you taste it?\n\n  Sticky like Peter Parker, my weed a little darker\n  The Amsterdam whoopty bang with the magic marker\n  Written by the ones that's spitting\n\n  Bitten by the perpetrators and all the haters that watch and listen\n  Give these niggas church\n  Baptize they bitch ass in the earth like I'm cursed with the verse\n\n  Searchlights still looking for me in the Crescent Heights\n  That's right, still got a pair of them Hyperflights\n  Nighty night, tuck rhymes to bed like nighty night\n  Strong arm traps, throw these raps in the sacrifice\n  Dishing it out, yeah, agony, spliff in the stout\n  Dilated T, dick in your mouth, bitch!\n\n  Ayo, white shirt, sleeves folded\n  Fat monkey on the bitch bumpin my shit usage for promotion only\n  Pretty Tony slick, witty with thoughts and shit is a sport\n  Fifth with a blitty to torch, I'm zoning\n\n  Strong arming on and on in like\n  Four in the morning rolling my motivation, pacing these four corners\n  This is my coronation, Planet Asia's upon us\n  Honest, my Pérignon be the most honest\n\n  Splash heat, flow half street, half Islamic\n  And that's what I'm on and you can ask anybody\n  I'll crash up in any party, actually nasty with shotties\n  After me, never could there be another actually rhyming\n  Mountain climbing these mics, we drop diamonds\n  And stop time in these tracks, the actual fact is science\n  Dilated violence, closed session\n  I was diagnosed with the essence of lessons from the ancient giants\n\n  I'm a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker like Jules\n  Bang bang, blazing microphones like tools\n  We straight playing suckers out like fools\n  And turn clubs, even stadiums into night schools\n  It's five-nine, full on wax\n  It's one-eight-seven on rap, pop all over the map\n  The whole bubble, heaven to hell then came back\n  I spit a billion bars and never came wack, kid\n  You fucking with a vet, and you should know better\n\n  Gold medals and letters because I flow better\n  I twist up and blaze your whole crew\n  Then for munchies, slide down Pico de Mo' Better\n  Ah, when Babs starts the drillin, you gon' catch the feeling\n  We set the roof on fire and we test the ceiling\n  Plus I test my skills with the illest Brazilians\n  The world's a city of God, so God bless the children\n  It's Rakaa, I do much more than talking\n\n  I bring that chocolate thunder like Dale Dawkins\n  I grew up watching my Lakers fight with Boston\n  Hardcore Hagler and Hearns type of boxing\n  Hustling out of mom's crib, had to stop it\n  Peyton Belmont, you had to use caution\n  Rhodium in Midtown swap meet shopping\n  And fifteen eighty K, they hip hopping\n\n  It's over\n  It's over, man\n  Over\n  That's what I'm talking about\n  Y'all can open the door up, let 'em back in\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, from here on\n  In, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n"},{"id":39911964,"name":"Closed Session (feat. Defari, Phil Da Agony & Planet Asia)","trackName":"Closed Session (feat. Defari, Phil Da Agony & Planet Asia)","artistName":"Dilated Peoples","albumName":"Neighborhood Watch","duration":375.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[Intro: Evidence & (Babu)\nYo, yo, Babs, close the door right there\n\nI see Phil (what up?), Defari, Planet Asia (that's right)\nWe got spitters in here, man\nI got sixteen, you got sixteen (that's right)\nI'ma set up shop right here\nYo, close that door, it's a closed session\n\nFor our peoples right here (it's like that)\nAcross the globe (ha-ha)\nYo, Babu, set up shop right there\nIt's Beat Junkies crew\n\nShow everybody how we do it\nIt's closed session\nYo, Sigel, put the mic up, c'mon, let's go\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, from here on\nIn, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\nI kicked in the door like Biggie\nWaving a fo'-fo' with a black Laker beanie\n\nI pressed up on the PD\nTold 'em better play my shit and act like you happy to see me\n\nI'm Los Angeles' finest\nHow many times I gotta say it? Fuck it, remind 'em\nI'm from the Likwit, know my pedigree\nIt's hard work like my Uncle Bellamy, rest in peace\nI like my freedom so no felonies\nThere's glory in going to jail? That's what you telling me?\nYou sound stupid like a prophecy\nHow can a man predict truth when he can't predict his next move?\nI keep it moving like a Rolex\nHit the mini-meter long sleeve fo' X\n\nI need a doo-rag in USC burgundy\nI got a show and when I flow, oh yeah, they heard of me\nHere I am like Sanchez\nDon't give a damn, I'll be rhyming with my grandkids\nShit, it's hip hop since the beginning\nAnd it's gon' be hip hop 'til the ending, please believe\nI'm certified like a doctor\nExcept I'm off the Red Bull and that vodka just for the night\nI'm impresario and eloquent with every word\nNeighborhood watch, I bend corners every curb\n\nDanger, danger, the end is coming closer\nThis wild west cat keeps Tabasco in his holster\nI got a lasso that loops over your shoulder\nAnd a dangerous crew like Too $hort, it's over\n\nTo three hundred thousand cats, I'm back\nTo the rest of the world, it's the greatest new jack\nI'm out for the city, back when it wasn't that pretty\nNo autographs, only signing those walls doing graffiti\n\nI'ma sit up and laugh how I crept it\nGot a little respect, then did the unexpected\n\nDisappeared then came back reinvented\nFrom Venice, where cats got nines like Akademiks\nI'm Evidence, rather be your friend than foe\nRather break bread than make dough and hating on the low\nLegacies built for those who can't admit to guilt\nAnd move on, it's our turn, it's our time, the deal is sealed\n\nWho knew Babu would come up with the track\nTo make Evidence write up the raps?\nThe cause, feel the agony to react, Dilated's on the map\nPlanet Asia, Defari, Iriscience, we back\nPistol packing backpack rap\nStomp tracks all over your neighborhood so you can follow 'em back\nDinosaur, used to be a Northridge matador\n'Til the Alkaholiks took me on tour, sweating velours\nSure as the sun'll rise, feel the rise of the occasion\nPlayStation, tours like vacations\n\nY'all need ventilation when I start blazing\nThe Amazing Spider-Man, would you taste it?\n\nSticky like Peter Parker, my weed a little darker\nThe Amsterdam whoopty bang with the magic marker\nWritten by the ones that's spitting\n\nBitten by the perpetrators and all the haters that watch and listen\nGive these niggas church\nBaptize they bitch ass in the earth like I'm cursed with the verse\n\nSearchlights still looking for me in the Crescent Heights\nThat's right, still got a pair of them Hyperflights\nNighty night, tuck rhymes to bed like nighty night\nStrong arm traps, throw these raps in the sacrifice\nDishing it out, yeah, agony, spliff in the stout\nDilated T, dick in your mouth, bitch!\n\nAyo, white shirt, sleeves folded\nFat monkey on the bitch bumpin my shit usage for promotion only\nPretty Tony slick, witty with thoughts and shit is a sport\nFifth with a blitty to torch, I'm zoning\n\nStrong arming on and on in like\nFour in the morning rolling my motivation, pacing these four corners\nThis is my coronation, Planet Asia's upon us\nHonest, my Pérignon be the most honest\n\nSplash heat, flow half street, half Islamic\nAnd that's what I'm on and you can ask anybody\nI'll crash up in any party, actually nasty with shotties\nAfter me, never could there be another actually rhyming\nMountain climbing these mics, we drop diamonds\nAnd stop time in these tracks, the actual fact is science\nDilated violence, closed session\nI was diagnosed with the essence of lessons from the ancient giants\n\nI'm a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker like Jules\nBang bang, blazing microphones like tools\nWe straight playing suckers out like fools\nAnd turn clubs, even stadiums into night schools\nIt's five-nine, full on wax\nIt's one-eight-seven on rap, pop all over the map\nThe whole bubble, heaven to hell then came back\nI spit a billion bars and never came wack, kid\nYou fucking with a vet, and you should know better\n\nGold medals and letters because I flow better\nI twist up and blaze your whole crew\nThen for munchies, slide down Pico de Mo' Better\nAh, when Babs starts the drillin, you gon' catch the feeling\nWe set the roof on fire and we test the ceiling\nPlus I test my skills with the illest Brazilians\nThe world's a city of God, so God bless the children\nIt's Rakaa, I do much more than talking\n\nI bring that chocolate thunder like Dale Dawkins\nI grew up watching my Lakers fight with Boston\nHardcore Hagler and Hearns type of boxing\nHustling out of mom's crib, had to stop it\nPeyton Belmont, you had to use caution\nRhodium in Midtown swap meet shopping\nAnd fifteen eighty K, they hip hopping\n\nIt's over\nIt's over, man\nOver\nThat's what I'm talking about\nY'all can open the door up, let 'em back in\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, from here on\nIn, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Closed Session (feat. Defari, Phil Da Agony & Planet Asia)\n  artist: Dilated Peoples\n  album: Neighborhood Watch\n  duration_ms: 374622\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  [Intro: Evidence & (Babu)\n  Yo, yo, Babs, close the door right there\n\n  I see Phil (what up?), Defari, Planet Asia (that's right)\n  We got spitters in here, man\n  I got sixteen, you got sixteen (that's right)\n  I'ma set up shop right here\n  Yo, close that door, it's a closed session\n\n  For our peoples right here (it's like that)\n  Across the globe (ha-ha)\n  Yo, Babu, set up shop right there\n  It's Beat Junkies crew\n\n  Show everybody how we do it\n  It's closed session\n  Yo, Sigel, put the mic up, c'mon, let's go\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, from here on\n  In, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  I kicked in the door like Biggie\n  Waving a fo'-fo' with a black Laker beanie\n\n  I pressed up on the PD\n  Told 'em better play my shit and act like you happy to see me\n\n  I'm Los Angeles' finest\n  How many times I gotta say it? Fuck it, remind 'em\n  I'm from the Likwit, know my pedigree\n  It's hard work like my Uncle Bellamy, rest in peace\n  I like my freedom so no felonies\n  There's glory in going to jail? That's what you telling me?\n  You sound stupid like a prophecy\n  How can a man predict truth when he can't predict his next move?\n  I keep it moving like a Rolex\n  Hit the mini-meter long sleeve fo' X\n\n  I need a doo-rag in USC burgundy\n  I got a show and when I flow, oh yeah, they heard of me\n  Here I am like Sanchez\n  Don't give a damn, I'll be rhyming with my grandkids\n  Shit, it's hip hop since the beginning\n  And it's gon' be hip hop 'til the ending, please believe\n  I'm certified like a doctor\n  Except I'm off the Red Bull and that vodka just for the night\n  I'm impresario and eloquent with every word\n  Neighborhood watch, I bend corners every curb\n\n  Danger, danger, the end is coming closer\n  This wild west cat keeps Tabasco in his holster\n  I got a lasso that loops over your shoulder\n  And a dangerous crew like Too $hort, it's over\n\n  To three hundred thousand cats, I'm back\n  To the rest of the world, it's the greatest new jack\n  I'm out for the city, back when it wasn't that pretty\n  No autographs, only signing those walls doing graffiti\n\n  I'ma sit up and laugh how I crept it\n  Got a little respect, then did the unexpected\n\n  Disappeared then came back reinvented\n  From Venice, where cats got nines like Akademiks\n  I'm Evidence, rather be your friend than foe\n  Rather break bread than make dough and hating on the low\n  Legacies built for those who can't admit to guilt\n  And move on, it's our turn, it's our time, the deal is sealed\n\n  Who knew Babu would come up with the track\n  To make Evidence write up the raps?\n  The cause, feel the agony to react, Dilated's on the map\n  Planet Asia, Defari, Iriscience, we back\n  Pistol packing backpack rap\n  Stomp tracks all over your neighborhood so you can follow 'em back\n  Dinosaur, used to be a Northridge matador\n  'Til the Alkaholiks took me on tour, sweating velours\n  Sure as the sun'll rise, feel the rise of the occasion\n  PlayStation, tours like vacations\n\n  Y'all need ventilation when I start blazing\n  The Amazing Spider-Man, would you taste it?\n\n  Sticky like Peter Parker, my weed a little darker\n  The Amsterdam whoopty bang with the magic marker\n  Written by the ones that's spitting\n\n  Bitten by the perpetrators and all the haters that watch and listen\n  Give these niggas church\n  Baptize they bitch ass in the earth like I'm cursed with the verse\n\n  Searchlights still looking for me in the Crescent Heights\n  That's right, still got a pair of them Hyperflights\n  Nighty night, tuck rhymes to bed like nighty night\n  Strong arm traps, throw these raps in the sacrifice\n  Dishing it out, yeah, agony, spliff in the stout\n  Dilated T, dick in your mouth, bitch!\n\n  Ayo, white shirt, sleeves folded\n  Fat monkey on the bitch bumpin my shit usage for promotion only\n  Pretty Tony slick, witty with thoughts and shit is a sport\n  Fifth with a blitty to torch, I'm zoning\n\n  Strong arming on and on in like\n  Four in the morning rolling my motivation, pacing these four corners\n  This is my coronation, Planet Asia's upon us\n  Honest, my Pérignon be the most honest\n\n  Splash heat, flow half street, half Islamic\n  And that's what I'm on and you can ask anybody\n  I'll crash up in any party, actually nasty with shotties\n  After me, never could there be another actually rhyming\n  Mountain climbing these mics, we drop diamonds\n  And stop time in these tracks, the actual fact is science\n  Dilated violence, closed session\n  I was diagnosed with the essence of lessons from the ancient giants\n\n  I'm a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker like Jules\n  Bang bang, blazing microphones like tools\n  We straight playing suckers out like fools\n  And turn clubs, even stadiums into night schools\n  It's five-nine, full on wax\n  It's one-eight-seven on rap, pop all over the map\n  The whole bubble, heaven to hell then came back\n  I spit a billion bars and never came wack, kid\n  You fucking with a vet, and you should know better\n\n  Gold medals and letters because I flow better\n  I twist up and blaze your whole crew\n  Then for munchies, slide down Pico de Mo' Better\n  Ah, when Babs starts the drillin, you gon' catch the feeling\n  We set the roof on fire and we test the ceiling\n  Plus I test my skills with the illest Brazilians\n  The world's a city of God, so God bless the children\n  It's Rakaa, I do much more than talking\n\n  I bring that chocolate thunder like Dale Dawkins\n  I grew up watching my Lakers fight with Boston\n  Hardcore Hagler and Hearns type of boxing\n  Hustling out of mom's crib, had to stop it\n  Peyton Belmont, you had to use caution\n  Rhodium in Midtown swap meet shopping\n  And fifteen eighty K, they hip hopping\n\n  It's over\n  It's over, man\n  Over\n  That's what I'm talking about\n  Y'all can open the door up, let 'em back in\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, from here on\n  In, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n"},{"id":39912922,"name":"Closed Session [Feat. Defari, Phil Da Agony, Planet Asia]","trackName":"Closed Session [Feat. Defari, Phil Da Agony, Planet Asia]","artistName":"Dilated Peoples","albumName":"Neighborhood Watch","duration":374.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[Intro: Evidence & (Babu)\nYo, yo, Babs, close the door right there\n\nI see Phil (what up?), Defari, Planet Asia (that's right)\nWe got spitters in here, man\nI got sixteen, you got sixteen (that's right)\nI'ma set up shop right here\nYo, close that door, it's a closed session\n\nFor our peoples right here (it's like that)\nAcross the globe (ha-ha)\nYo, Babu, set up shop right there\nIt's Beat Junkies crew\n\nShow everybody how we do it\nIt's closed session\nYo, Sigel, put the mic up, c'mon, let's go\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, from here on\nIn, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\nI kicked in the door like Biggie\nWaving a fo'-fo' with a black Laker beanie\n\nI pressed up on the PD\nTold 'em better play my shit and act like you happy to see me\n\nI'm Los Angeles' finest\nHow many times I gotta say it? Fuck it, remind 'em\nI'm from the Likwit, know my pedigree\nIt's hard work like my Uncle Bellamy, rest in peace\nI like my freedom so no felonies\nThere's glory in going to jail? That's what you telling me?\nYou sound stupid like a prophecy\nHow can a man predict truth when he can't predict his next move?\nI keep it moving like a Rolex\nHit the mini-meter long sleeve fo' X\n\nI need a doo-rag in USC burgundy\nI got a show and when I flow, oh yeah, they heard of me\nHere I am like Sanchez\nDon't give a damn, I'll be rhyming with my grandkids\nShit, it's hip hop since the beginning\nAnd it's gon' be hip hop 'til the ending, please believe\nI'm certified like a doctor\nExcept I'm off the Red Bull and that vodka just for the night\nI'm impresario and eloquent with every word\nNeighborhood watch, I bend corners every curb\n\nDanger, danger, the end is coming closer\nThis wild west cat keeps Tabasco in his holster\nI got a lasso that loops over your shoulder\nAnd a dangerous crew like Too $hort, it's over\n\nTo three hundred thousand cats, I'm back\nTo the rest of the world, it's the greatest new jack\nI'm out for the city, back when it wasn't that pretty\nNo autographs, only signing those walls doing graffiti\n\nI'ma sit up and laugh how I crept it\nGot a little respect, then did the unexpected\n\nDisappeared then came back reinvented\nFrom Venice, where cats got nines like Akademiks\nI'm Evidence, rather be your friend than foe\nRather break bread than make dough and hating on the low\nLegacies built for those who can't admit to guilt\nAnd move on, it's our turn, it's our time, the deal is sealed\n\nWho knew Babu would come up with the track\nTo make Evidence write up the raps?\nThe cause, feel the agony to react, Dilated's on the map\nPlanet Asia, Defari, Iriscience, we back\nPistol packing backpack rap\nStomp tracks all over your neighborhood so you can follow 'em back\nDinosaur, used to be a Northridge matador\n'Til the Alkaholiks took me on tour, sweating velours\nSure as the sun'll rise, feel the rise of the occasion\nPlayStation, tours like vacations\n\nY'all need ventilation when I start blazing\nThe Amazing Spider-Man, would you taste it?\n\nSticky like Peter Parker, my weed a little darker\nThe Amsterdam whoopty bang with the magic marker\nWritten by the ones that's spitting\n\nBitten by the perpetrators and all the haters that watch and listen\nGive these niggas church\nBaptize they bitch ass in the earth like I'm cursed with the verse\n\nSearchlights still looking for me in the Crescent Heights\nThat's right, still got a pair of them Hyperflights\nNighty night, tuck rhymes to bed like nighty night\nStrong arm traps, throw these raps in the sacrifice\nDishing it out, yeah, agony, spliff in the stout\nDilated T, dick in your mouth, bitch!\n\nAyo, white shirt, sleeves folded\nFat monkey on the bitch bumpin my shit usage for promotion only\nPretty Tony slick, witty with thoughts and shit is a sport\nFifth with a blitty to torch, I'm zoning\n\nStrong arming on and on in like\nFour in the morning rolling my motivation, pacing these four corners\nThis is my coronation, Planet Asia's upon us\nHonest, my Pérignon be the most honest\n\nSplash heat, flow half street, half Islamic\nAnd that's what I'm on and you can ask anybody\nI'll crash up in any party, actually nasty with shotties\nAfter me, never could there be another actually rhyming\nMountain climbing these mics, we drop diamonds\nAnd stop time in these tracks, the actual fact is science\nDilated violence, closed session\nI was diagnosed with the essence of lessons from the ancient giants\n\nI'm a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker like Jules\nBang bang, blazing microphones like tools\nWe straight playing suckers out like fools\nAnd turn clubs, even stadiums into night schools\nIt's five-nine, full on wax\nIt's one-eight-seven on rap, pop all over the map\nThe whole bubble, heaven to hell then came back\nI spit a billion bars and never came wack, kid\nYou fucking with a vet, and you should know better\n\nGold medals and letters because I flow better\nI twist up and blaze your whole crew\nThen for munchies, slide down Pico de Mo' Better\nAh, when Babs starts the drillin, you gon' catch the feeling\nWe set the roof on fire and we test the ceiling\nPlus I test my skills with the illest Brazilians\nThe world's a city of God, so God bless the children\nIt's Rakaa, I do much more than talking\n\nI bring that chocolate thunder like Dale Dawkins\nI grew up watching my Lakers fight with Boston\nHardcore Hagler and Hearns type of boxing\nHustling out of mom's crib, had to stop it\nPeyton Belmont, you had to use caution\nRhodium in Midtown swap meet shopping\nAnd fifteen eighty K, they hip hopping\n\nIt's over\nIt's over, man\nOver\nThat's what I'm talking about\nY'all can open the door up, let 'em back in\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, from here on\nIn, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Closed Session [Feat. Defari, Phil Da Agony, Planet Asia]\n  artist: Dilated Peoples\n  album: Neighborhood Watch\n  duration_ms: 373663\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  [Intro: Evidence & (Babu)\n  Yo, yo, Babs, close the door right there\n\n  I see Phil (what up?), Defari, Planet Asia (that's right)\n  We got spitters in here, man\n  I got sixteen, you got sixteen (that's right)\n  I'ma set up shop right here\n  Yo, close that door, it's a closed session\n\n  For our peoples right here (it's like that)\n  Across the globe (ha-ha)\n  Yo, Babu, set up shop right there\n  It's Beat Junkies crew\n\n  Show everybody how we do it\n  It's closed session\n  Yo, Sigel, put the mic up, c'mon, let's go\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, from here on\n  In, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  I kicked in the door like Biggie\n  Waving a fo'-fo' with a black Laker beanie\n\n  I pressed up on the PD\n  Told 'em better play my shit and act like you happy to see me\n\n  I'm Los Angeles' finest\n  How many times I gotta say it? Fuck it, remind 'em\n  I'm from the Likwit, know my pedigree\n  It's hard work like my Uncle Bellamy, rest in peace\n  I like my freedom so no felonies\n  There's glory in going to jail? That's what you telling me?\n  You sound stupid like a prophecy\n  How can a man predict truth when he can't predict his next move?\n  I keep it moving like a Rolex\n  Hit the mini-meter long sleeve fo' X\n\n  I need a doo-rag in USC burgundy\n  I got a show and when I flow, oh yeah, they heard of me\n  Here I am like Sanchez\n  Don't give a damn, I'll be rhyming with my grandkids\n  Shit, it's hip hop since the beginning\n  And it's gon' be hip hop 'til the ending, please believe\n  I'm certified like a doctor\n  Except I'm off the Red Bull and that vodka just for the night\n  I'm impresario and eloquent with every word\n  Neighborhood watch, I bend corners every curb\n\n  Danger, danger, the end is coming closer\n  This wild west cat keeps Tabasco in his holster\n  I got a lasso that loops over your shoulder\n  And a dangerous crew like Too $hort, it's over\n\n  To three hundred thousand cats, I'm back\n  To the rest of the world, it's the greatest new jack\n  I'm out for the city, back when it wasn't that pretty\n  No autographs, only signing those walls doing graffiti\n\n  I'ma sit up and laugh how I crept it\n  Got a little respect, then did the unexpected\n\n  Disappeared then came back reinvented\n  From Venice, where cats got nines like Akademiks\n  I'm Evidence, rather be your friend than foe\n  Rather break bread than make dough and hating on the low\n  Legacies built for those who can't admit to guilt\n  And move on, it's our turn, it's our time, the deal is sealed\n\n  Who knew Babu would come up with the track\n  To make Evidence write up the raps?\n  The cause, feel the agony to react, Dilated's on the map\n  Planet Asia, Defari, Iriscience, we back\n  Pistol packing backpack rap\n  Stomp tracks all over your neighborhood so you can follow 'em back\n  Dinosaur, used to be a Northridge matador\n  'Til the Alkaholiks took me on tour, sweating velours\n  Sure as the sun'll rise, feel the rise of the occasion\n  PlayStation, tours like vacations\n\n  Y'all need ventilation when I start blazing\n  The Amazing Spider-Man, would you taste it?\n\n  Sticky like Peter Parker, my weed a little darker\n  The Amsterdam whoopty bang with the magic marker\n  Written by the ones that's spitting\n\n  Bitten by the perpetrators and all the haters that watch and listen\n  Give these niggas church\n  Baptize they bitch ass in the earth like I'm cursed with the verse\n\n  Searchlights still looking for me in the Crescent Heights\n  That's right, still got a pair of them Hyperflights\n  Nighty night, tuck rhymes to bed like nighty night\n  Strong arm traps, throw these raps in the sacrifice\n  Dishing it out, yeah, agony, spliff in the stout\n  Dilated T, dick in your mouth, bitch!\n\n  Ayo, white shirt, sleeves folded\n  Fat monkey on the bitch bumpin my shit usage for promotion only\n  Pretty Tony slick, witty with thoughts and shit is a sport\n  Fifth with a blitty to torch, I'm zoning\n\n  Strong arming on and on in like\n  Four in the morning rolling my motivation, pacing these four corners\n  This is my coronation, Planet Asia's upon us\n  Honest, my Pérignon be the most honest\n\n  Splash heat, flow half street, half Islamic\n  And that's what I'm on and you can ask anybody\n  I'll crash up in any party, actually nasty with shotties\n  After me, never could there be another actually rhyming\n  Mountain climbing these mics, we drop diamonds\n  And stop time in these tracks, the actual fact is science\n  Dilated violence, closed session\n  I was diagnosed with the essence of lessons from the ancient giants\n\n  I'm a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker like Jules\n  Bang bang, blazing microphones like tools\n  We straight playing suckers out like fools\n  And turn clubs, even stadiums into night schools\n  It's five-nine, full on wax\n  It's one-eight-seven on rap, pop all over the map\n  The whole bubble, heaven to hell then came back\n  I spit a billion bars and never came wack, kid\n  You fucking with a vet, and you should know better\n\n  Gold medals and letters because I flow better\n  I twist up and blaze your whole crew\n  Then for munchies, slide down Pico de Mo' Better\n  Ah, when Babs starts the drillin, you gon' catch the feeling\n  We set the roof on fire and we test the ceiling\n  Plus I test my skills with the illest Brazilians\n  The world's a city of God, so God bless the children\n  It's Rakaa, I do much more than talking\n\n  I bring that chocolate thunder like Dale Dawkins\n  I grew up watching my Lakers fight with Boston\n  Hardcore Hagler and Hearns type of boxing\n  Hustling out of mom's crib, had to stop it\n  Peyton Belmont, you had to use caution\n  Rhodium in Midtown swap meet shopping\n  And fifteen eighty K, they hip hopping\n\n  It's over\n  It's over, man\n  Over\n  That's what I'm talking about\n  Y'all can open the door up, let 'em back in\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, from here on\n  In, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n"},{"id":40235448,"name":"Closed Session","trackName":"Closed Session","artistName":"Dilated Peoples Featuring Defari, Phil Da Agony, Planet Asia","albumName":"Neighborhood Watch","duration":375.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[Intro: Evidence & (Babu)\nYo, yo, Babs, close the door right there\n\nI see Phil (what up?), Defari, Planet Asia (that's right)\nWe got spitters in here, man\nI got sixteen, you got sixteen (that's right)\nI'ma set up shop right here\nYo, close that door, it's a closed session\n\nFor our peoples right here (it's like that)\nAcross the globe (ha-ha)\nYo, Babu, set up shop right there\nIt's Beat Junkies crew\n\nShow everybody how we do it\nIt's closed session\nYo, Sigel, put the mic up, c'mon, let's go\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, from here on\nIn, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\nI kicked in the door like Biggie\nWaving a fo'-fo' with a black Laker beanie\n\nI pressed up on the PD\nTold 'em better play my shit and act like you happy to see me\n\nI'm Los Angeles' finest\nHow many times I gotta say it? Fuck it, remind 'em\nI'm from the Likwit, know my pedigree\nIt's hard work like my Uncle Bellamy, rest in peace\nI like my freedom so no felonies\nThere's glory in going to jail? That's what you telling me?\nYou sound stupid like a prophecy\nHow can a man predict truth when he can't predict his next move?\nI keep it moving like a Rolex\nHit the mini-meter long sleeve fo' X\n\nI need a doo-rag in USC burgundy\nI got a show and when I flow, oh yeah, they heard of me\nHere I am like Sanchez\nDon't give a damn, I'll be rhyming with my grandkids\nShit, it's hip hop since the beginning\nAnd it's gon' be hip hop 'til the ending, please believe\nI'm certified like a doctor\nExcept I'm off the Red Bull and that vodka just for the night\nI'm impresario and eloquent with every word\nNeighborhood watch, I bend corners every curb\n\nDanger, danger, the end is coming closer\nThis wild west cat keeps Tabasco in his holster\nI got a lasso that loops over your shoulder\nAnd a dangerous crew like Too $hort, it's over\n\nTo three hundred thousand cats, I'm back\nTo the rest of the world, it's the greatest new jack\nI'm out for the city, back when it wasn't that pretty\nNo autographs, only signing those walls doing graffiti\n\nI'ma sit up and laugh how I crept it\nGot a little respect, then did the unexpected\n\nDisappeared then came back reinvented\nFrom Venice, where cats got nines like Akademiks\nI'm Evidence, rather be your friend than foe\nRather break bread than make dough and hating on the low\nLegacies built for those who can't admit to guilt\nAnd move on, it's our turn, it's our time, the deal is sealed\n\nWho knew Babu would come up with the track\nTo make Evidence write up the raps?\nThe cause, feel the agony to react, Dilated's on the map\nPlanet Asia, Defari, Iriscience, we back\nPistol packing backpack rap\nStomp tracks all over your neighborhood so you can follow 'em back\nDinosaur, used to be a Northridge matador\n'Til the Alkaholiks took me on tour, sweating velours\nSure as the sun'll rise, feel the rise of the occasion\nPlayStation, tours like vacations\n\nY'all need ventilation when I start blazing\nThe Amazing Spider-Man, would you taste it?\n\nSticky like Peter Parker, my weed a little darker\nThe Amsterdam whoopty bang with the magic marker\nWritten by the ones that's spitting\n\nBitten by the perpetrators and all the haters that watch and listen\nGive these niggas church\nBaptize they bitch ass in the earth like I'm cursed with the verse\n\nSearchlights still looking for me in the Crescent Heights\nThat's right, still got a pair of them Hyperflights\nNighty night, tuck rhymes to bed like nighty night\nStrong arm traps, throw these raps in the sacrifice\nDishing it out, yeah, agony, spliff in the stout\nDilated T, dick in your mouth, bitch!\n\nAyo, white shirt, sleeves folded\nFat monkey on the bitch bumpin my shit usage for promotion only\nPretty Tony slick, witty with thoughts and shit is a sport\nFifth with a blitty to torch, I'm zoning\n\nStrong arming on and on in like\nFour in the morning rolling my motivation, pacing these four corners\nThis is my coronation, Planet Asia's upon us\nHonest, my Pérignon be the most honest\n\nSplash heat, flow half street, half Islamic\nAnd that's what I'm on and you can ask anybody\nI'll crash up in any party, actually nasty with shotties\nAfter me, never could there be another actually rhyming\nMountain climbing these mics, we drop diamonds\nAnd stop time in these tracks, the actual fact is science\nDilated violence, closed session\nI was diagnosed with the essence of lessons from the ancient giants\n\nI'm a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker like Jules\nBang bang, blazing microphones like tools\nWe straight playing suckers out like fools\nAnd turn clubs, even stadiums into night schools\nIt's five-nine, full on wax\nIt's one-eight-seven on rap, pop all over the map\nThe whole bubble, heaven to hell then came back\nI spit a billion bars and never came wack, kid\nYou fucking with a vet, and you should know better\n\nGold medals and letters because I flow better\nI twist up and blaze your whole crew\nThen for munchies, slide down Pico de Mo' Better\nAh, when Babs starts the drillin, you gon' catch the feeling\nWe set the roof on fire and we test the ceiling\nPlus I test my skills with the illest Brazilians\nThe world's a city of God, so God bless the children\nIt's Rakaa, I do much more than talking\n\nI bring that chocolate thunder like Dale Dawkins\nI grew up watching my Lakers fight with Boston\nHardcore Hagler and Hearns type of boxing\nHustling out of mom's crib, had to stop it\nPeyton Belmont, you had to use caution\nRhodium in Midtown swap meet shopping\nAnd fifteen eighty K, they hip hopping\n\nIt's over\nIt's over, man\nOver\nThat's what I'm talking about\nY'all can open the door up, let 'em back in\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, from here on\nIn, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Closed Session\n  artist: Dilated Peoples Featuring Defari, Phil Da Agony, Planet Asia\n  album: Neighborhood Watch\n  duration_ms: 375000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  [Intro: Evidence & (Babu)\n  Yo, yo, Babs, close the door right there\n\n  I see Phil (what up?), Defari, Planet Asia (that's right)\n  We got spitters in here, man\n  I got sixteen, you got sixteen (that's right)\n  I'ma set up shop right here\n  Yo, close that door, it's a closed session\n\n  For our peoples right here (it's like that)\n  Across the globe (ha-ha)\n  Yo, Babu, set up shop right there\n  It's Beat Junkies crew\n\n  Show everybody how we do it\n  It's closed session\n  Yo, Sigel, put the mic up, c'mon, let's go\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, from here on\n  In, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  I kicked in the door like Biggie\n  Waving a fo'-fo' with a black Laker beanie\n\n  I pressed up on the PD\n  Told 'em better play my shit and act like you happy to see me\n\n  I'm Los Angeles' finest\n  How many times I gotta say it? Fuck it, remind 'em\n  I'm from the Likwit, know my pedigree\n  It's hard work like my Uncle Bellamy, rest in peace\n  I like my freedom so no felonies\n  There's glory in going to jail? That's what you telling me?\n  You sound stupid like a prophecy\n  How can a man predict truth when he can't predict his next move?\n  I keep it moving like a Rolex\n  Hit the mini-meter long sleeve fo' X\n\n  I need a doo-rag in USC burgundy\n  I got a show and when I flow, oh yeah, they heard of me\n  Here I am like Sanchez\n  Don't give a damn, I'll be rhyming with my grandkids\n  Shit, it's hip hop since the beginning\n  And it's gon' be hip hop 'til the ending, please believe\n  I'm certified like a doctor\n  Except I'm off the Red Bull and that vodka just for the night\n  I'm impresario and eloquent with every word\n  Neighborhood watch, I bend corners every curb\n\n  Danger, danger, the end is coming closer\n  This wild west cat keeps Tabasco in his holster\n  I got a lasso that loops over your shoulder\n  And a dangerous crew like Too $hort, it's over\n\n  To three hundred thousand cats, I'm back\n  To the rest of the world, it's the greatest new jack\n  I'm out for the city, back when it wasn't that pretty\n  No autographs, only signing those walls doing graffiti\n\n  I'ma sit up and laugh how I crept it\n  Got a little respect, then did the unexpected\n\n  Disappeared then came back reinvented\n  From Venice, where cats got nines like Akademiks\n  I'm Evidence, rather be your friend than foe\n  Rather break bread than make dough and hating on the low\n  Legacies built for those who can't admit to guilt\n  And move on, it's our turn, it's our time, the deal is sealed\n\n  Who knew Babu would come up with the track\n  To make Evidence write up the raps?\n  The cause, feel the agony to react, Dilated's on the map\n  Planet Asia, Defari, Iriscience, we back\n  Pistol packing backpack rap\n  Stomp tracks all over your neighborhood so you can follow 'em back\n  Dinosaur, used to be a Northridge matador\n  'Til the Alkaholiks took me on tour, sweating velours\n  Sure as the sun'll rise, feel the rise of the occasion\n  PlayStation, tours like vacations\n\n  Y'all need ventilation when I start blazing\n  The Amazing Spider-Man, would you taste it?\n\n  Sticky like Peter Parker, my weed a little darker\n  The Amsterdam whoopty bang with the magic marker\n  Written by the ones that's spitting\n\n  Bitten by the perpetrators and all the haters that watch and listen\n  Give these niggas church\n  Baptize they bitch ass in the earth like I'm cursed with the verse\n\n  Searchlights still looking for me in the Crescent Heights\n  That's right, still got a pair of them Hyperflights\n  Nighty night, tuck rhymes to bed like nighty night\n  Strong arm traps, throw these raps in the sacrifice\n  Dishing it out, yeah, agony, spliff in the stout\n  Dilated T, dick in your mouth, bitch!\n\n  Ayo, white shirt, sleeves folded\n  Fat monkey on the bitch bumpin my shit usage for promotion only\n  Pretty Tony slick, witty with thoughts and shit is a sport\n  Fifth with a blitty to torch, I'm zoning\n\n  Strong arming on and on in like\n  Four in the morning rolling my motivation, pacing these four corners\n  This is my coronation, Planet Asia's upon us\n  Honest, my Pérignon be the most honest\n\n  Splash heat, flow half street, half Islamic\n  And that's what I'm on and you can ask anybody\n  I'll crash up in any party, actually nasty with shotties\n  After me, never could there be another actually rhyming\n  Mountain climbing these mics, we drop diamonds\n  And stop time in these tracks, the actual fact is science\n  Dilated violence, closed session\n  I was diagnosed with the essence of lessons from the ancient giants\n\n  I'm a mushroom cloud laying motherfucker like Jules\n  Bang bang, blazing microphones like tools\n  We straight playing suckers out like fools\n  And turn clubs, even stadiums into night schools\n  It's five-nine, full on wax\n  It's one-eight-seven on rap, pop all over the map\n  The whole bubble, heaven to hell then came back\n  I spit a billion bars and never came wack, kid\n  You fucking with a vet, and you should know better\n\n  Gold medals and letters because I flow better\n  I twist up and blaze your whole crew\n  Then for munchies, slide down Pico de Mo' Better\n  Ah, when Babs starts the drillin, you gon' catch the feeling\n  We set the roof on fire and we test the ceiling\n  Plus I test my skills with the illest Brazilians\n  The world's a city of God, so God bless the children\n  It's Rakaa, I do much more than talking\n\n  I bring that chocolate thunder like Dale Dawkins\n  I grew up watching my Lakers fight with Boston\n  Hardcore Hagler and Hearns type of boxing\n  Hustling out of mom's crib, had to stop it\n  Peyton Belmont, you had to use caution\n  Rhodium in Midtown swap meet shopping\n  And fifteen eighty K, they hip hopping\n\n  It's over\n  It's over, man\n  Over\n  That's what I'm talking about\n  Y'all can open the door up, let 'em back in\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, from here on\n  In, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n  \"No question, from here on in, it's closed session\"\n"}]