[{"id":19623627,"name":"Stateville","trackName":"Stateville","artistName":"Do Or Die","albumName":"Pimpin' Aint Dead","duration":276.43356,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Kill 'em all!\nC'mon niggas\n\nYou don't want no static, maggot\nCause once I point the automatic, at it\nYo brain gon' get splattered, faggot\nSo have it your way\nYou got a issue wit' me?\nIt's okay, but if you dis-respect me nigga\nMotherfucka's gon' pay\nMy motherfucka's don't play\nThis some serious shit\nAnd we murder motherfucka's we get furious wit'\nThe theory is this; mob-life, learn the rules\nFuck rap, we own straps, and start burnin' fools\nAnd you can turn the dues, that got juice on the street\nBut fuck chief, we can all get loose wit' the heat\nAnd fuck peace, fuck stars, fuck whose in the lead\nIt's about who blood oozin' wit' me\nYa cock-biters\n\nI still knock bitches up off they back-wheel\nTo the day, come like Hoover, a clean will\nHarder than the bars of Stateville\nMotherfucka flip this and put bitches on stage still\nDrill a couple of slugs through they grille\nAnd chase them bitches through hay-field\nCause I'll peel, some hollow-points off in yo shit\nAnd I steal, the slugs in broad-day, bitch\nGuillotine, knock off his shoulder\nSpittin' shit, like spittin' comas\nSurround yo death, like this exposure\nCheck out my murderous fashion\n\"Enter the Dragon\" like Bruce Lee\nBracin' yoself, I keep on shootin' oozie\nI'm strapped wit' this Uzi\nI'm about to bloody up your cool-g\nLivin' vision, act ill\nAK, cell-block one, Stateville\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\nI did it all for the nation\nNow I'm in this cell waitin' patient\nKilled two niggas, natural life's what I'm facin'\nThinkin' of my son in my head, while I'm pacin'\nTwo shanks in my shoe, and four on my waste\nThat's for them big niggas, I ain't knowin' my case\nHe be dead by the mornin', before they go in the gates\nNow I got another case, and I'm locked in a hole\nNo food for months, laid on the floor\nA bitch nigga like you couldn't walk in my shoes\nMy homie, Stateville, cell-block two, nigga\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\nI remember the targets, so I catch you alone\nAnd rip up the carcus, I don't wanna be heartless\nBut I'm locked down in this one cell, in the darkness\nAnd reguardless, I rip yo brains, the remains when I kill shit\nFrom worse to the ill shit\nGot Glocks that'll tear through bricks when you build shit\nI put that on Will bitch, betta walk the line\nOr chalk up your air time\nOr fuck up your whole block\nAnd yo mama is missin', yo bitch wanna close shop\nAnd these four Glocks, go straight through teflon\nWhere yo teflon? It's murda\nThis real shit, it's murda\nWhen I kill shit, it's murda\nStateville, cell-block three\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\nUhh, picture me dead when the bars closin'\nMy mind's blank, no thinkin' murder me, foul play\nSuicidal, ex-felony, convict nigga\nAppetite for destruction, bounty huntin' nigga\nCause it's K-I-L-L or I'll be\nKillin' motherfucka for this feelin' up in me\nMy murderous tactics is still in me\nI'm feelin' rejected, so I can't find peace\nI'm in the middle of the ribs of the Belly of the Beast\nAs soon as he vomit, I'm released to the streets\nHow deep? Deep, deeper than Einstein\nDeep, deeper than Manson\nDeep, deeper than Atlantis\nStateville, cell-block five\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stateville\n  artist: Do Or Die\n  album: Pimpin' Aint Dead\n  duration_ms: 276434\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Kill 'em all!\n  C'mon niggas\n\n  You don't want no static, maggot\n  Cause once I point the automatic, at it\n  Yo brain gon' get splattered, faggot\n  So have it your way\n  You got a issue wit' me?\n  It's okay, but if you dis-respect me nigga\n  Motherfucka's gon' pay\n  My motherfucka's don't play\n  This some serious shit\n  And we murder motherfucka's we get furious wit'\n  The theory is this; mob-life, learn the rules\n  Fuck rap, we own straps, and start burnin' fools\n  And you can turn the dues, that got juice on the street\n  But fuck chief, we can all get loose wit' the heat\n  And fuck peace, fuck stars, fuck whose in the lead\n  It's about who blood oozin' wit' me\n  Ya cock-biters\n\n  I still knock bitches up off they back-wheel\n  To the day, come like Hoover, a clean will\n  Harder than the bars of Stateville\n  Motherfucka flip this and put bitches on stage still\n  Drill a couple of slugs through they grille\n  And chase them bitches through hay-field\n  Cause I'll peel, some hollow-points off in yo shit\n  And I steal, the slugs in broad-day, bitch\n  Guillotine, knock off his shoulder\n  Spittin' shit, like spittin' comas\n  Surround yo death, like this exposure\n  Check out my murderous fashion\n  \"Enter the Dragon\" like Bruce Lee\n  Bracin' yoself, I keep on shootin' oozie\n  I'm strapped wit' this Uzi\n  I'm about to bloody up your cool-g\n  Livin' vision, act ill\n  AK, cell-block one, Stateville\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\n  I did it all for the nation\n  Now I'm in this cell waitin' patient\n  Killed two niggas, natural life's what I'm facin'\n  Thinkin' of my son in my head, while I'm pacin'\n  Two shanks in my shoe, and four on my waste\n  That's for them big niggas, I ain't knowin' my case\n  He be dead by the mornin', before they go in the gates\n  Now I got another case, and I'm locked in a hole\n  No food for months, laid on the floor\n  A bitch nigga like you couldn't walk in my shoes\n  My homie, Stateville, cell-block two, nigga\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\n  I remember the targets, so I catch you alone\n  And rip up the carcus, I don't wanna be heartless\n  But I'm locked down in this one cell, in the darkness\n  And reguardless, I rip yo brains, the remains when I kill shit\n  From worse to the ill shit\n  Got Glocks that'll tear through bricks when you build shit\n  I put that on Will bitch, betta walk the line\n  Or chalk up your air time\n  Or fuck up your whole block\n  And yo mama is missin', yo bitch wanna close shop\n  And these four Glocks, go straight through teflon\n  Where yo teflon? It's murda\n  This real shit, it's murda\n  When I kill shit, it's murda\n  Stateville, cell-block three\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\n  Uhh, picture me dead when the bars closin'\n  My mind's blank, no thinkin' murder me, foul play\n  Suicidal, ex-felony, convict nigga\n  Appetite for destruction, bounty huntin' nigga\n  Cause it's K-I-L-L or I'll be\n  Killin' motherfucka for this feelin' up in me\n  My murderous tactics is still in me\n  I'm feelin' rejected, so I can't find peace\n  I'm in the middle of the ribs of the Belly of the Beast\n  As soon as he vomit, I'm released to the streets\n  How deep? Deep, deeper than Einstein\n  Deep, deeper than Manson\n  Deep, deeper than Atlantis\n  Stateville, cell-block five\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n"},{"id":12104059,"name":"Stateville","trackName":"Stateville","artistName":"Do or Die","albumName":"Pimpin Ain't Dead","duration":222.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Kill 'em all!\nC'mon niggas\n\nYou don't want no static, maggot\nCause once I point the automatic, at it\nYo brain gon' get splattered, faggot\nSo have it your way\nYou got a issue wit' me?\nIt's okay, but if you dis-respect me nigga\nMotherfucka's gon' pay\nMy motherfucka's don't play\nThis some serious shit\nAnd we murder motherfucka's we get furious wit'\nThe theory is this; mob-life, learn the rules\nFuck rap, we own straps, and start burnin' fools\nAnd you can turn the dues, that got juice on the street\nBut fuck chief, we can all get loose wit' the heat\nAnd fuck peace, fuck stars, fuck whose in the lead\nIt's about who blood oozin' wit' me\nYa cock-biters\n\nI still knock bitches up off they back-wheel\nTo the day, come like Hoover, a clean will\nHarder than the bars of Stateville\nMotherfucka flip this and put bitches on stage still\nDrill a couple of slugs through they grille\nAnd chase them bitches through hay-field\nCause I'll peel, some hollow-points off in yo shit\nAnd I steal, the slugs in broad-day, bitch\nGuillotine, knock off his shoulder\nSpittin' shit, like spittin' comas\nSurround yo death, like this exposure\nCheck out my murderous fashion\n\"Enter the Dragon\" like Bruce Lee\nBracin' yoself, I keep on shootin' oozie\nI'm strapped wit' this Uzi\nI'm about to bloody up your cool-g\nLivin' vision, act ill\nAK, cell-block one, Stateville\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\nI did it all for the nation\nNow I'm in this cell waitin' patient\nKilled two niggas, natural life's what I'm facin'\nThinkin' of my son in my head, while I'm pacin'\nTwo shanks in my shoe, and four on my waste\nThat's for them big niggas, I ain't knowin' my case\nHe be dead by the mornin', before they go in the gates\nNow I got another case, and I'm locked in a hole\nNo food for months, laid on the floor\nA bitch nigga like you couldn't walk in my shoes\nMy homie, Stateville, cell-block two, nigga\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\nI remember the targets, so I catch you alone\nAnd rip up the carcus, I don't wanna be heartless\nBut I'm locked down in this one cell, in the darkness\nAnd reguardless, I rip yo brains, the remains when I kill shit\nFrom worse to the ill shit\nGot Glocks that'll tear through bricks when you build shit\nI put that on Will bitch, betta walk the line\nOr chalk up your air time\nOr fuck up your whole block\nAnd yo mama is missin', yo bitch wanna close shop\nAnd these four Glocks, go straight through teflon\nWhere yo teflon? It's murda\nThis real shit, it's murda\nWhen I kill shit, it's murda\nStateville, cell-block three\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\nUhh, picture me dead when the bars closin'\nMy mind's blank, no thinkin' murder me, foul play\nSuicidal, ex-felony, convict nigga\nAppetite for destruction, bounty huntin' nigga\nCause it's K-I-L-L or I'll be\nKillin' motherfucka for this feelin' up in me\nMy murderous tactics is still in me\nI'm feelin' rejected, so I can't find peace\nI'm in the middle of the ribs of the Belly of the Beast\nAs soon as he vomit, I'm released to the streets\nHow deep? Deep, deeper than Einstein\nDeep, deeper than Manson\nDeep, deeper than Atlantis\nStateville, cell-block five\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stateville\n  artist: Do or Die\n  album: Pimpin Ain't Dead\n  duration_ms: 222000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Kill 'em all!\n  C'mon niggas\n\n  You don't want no static, maggot\n  Cause once I point the automatic, at it\n  Yo brain gon' get splattered, faggot\n  So have it your way\n  You got a issue wit' me?\n  It's okay, but if you dis-respect me nigga\n  Motherfucka's gon' pay\n  My motherfucka's don't play\n  This some serious shit\n  And we murder motherfucka's we get furious wit'\n  The theory is this; mob-life, learn the rules\n  Fuck rap, we own straps, and start burnin' fools\n  And you can turn the dues, that got juice on the street\n  But fuck chief, we can all get loose wit' the heat\n  And fuck peace, fuck stars, fuck whose in the lead\n  It's about who blood oozin' wit' me\n  Ya cock-biters\n\n  I still knock bitches up off they back-wheel\n  To the day, come like Hoover, a clean will\n  Harder than the bars of Stateville\n  Motherfucka flip this and put bitches on stage still\n  Drill a couple of slugs through they grille\n  And chase them bitches through hay-field\n  Cause I'll peel, some hollow-points off in yo shit\n  And I steal, the slugs in broad-day, bitch\n  Guillotine, knock off his shoulder\n  Spittin' shit, like spittin' comas\n  Surround yo death, like this exposure\n  Check out my murderous fashion\n  \"Enter the Dragon\" like Bruce Lee\n  Bracin' yoself, I keep on shootin' oozie\n  I'm strapped wit' this Uzi\n  I'm about to bloody up your cool-g\n  Livin' vision, act ill\n  AK, cell-block one, Stateville\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\n  I did it all for the nation\n  Now I'm in this cell waitin' patient\n  Killed two niggas, natural life's what I'm facin'\n  Thinkin' of my son in my head, while I'm pacin'\n  Two shanks in my shoe, and four on my waste\n  That's for them big niggas, I ain't knowin' my case\n  He be dead by the mornin', before they go in the gates\n  Now I got another case, and I'm locked in a hole\n  No food for months, laid on the floor\n  A bitch nigga like you couldn't walk in my shoes\n  My homie, Stateville, cell-block two, nigga\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\n  I remember the targets, so I catch you alone\n  And rip up the carcus, I don't wanna be heartless\n  But I'm locked down in this one cell, in the darkness\n  And reguardless, I rip yo brains, the remains when I kill shit\n  From worse to the ill shit\n  Got Glocks that'll tear through bricks when you build shit\n  I put that on Will bitch, betta walk the line\n  Or chalk up your air time\n  Or fuck up your whole block\n  And yo mama is missin', yo bitch wanna close shop\n  And these four Glocks, go straight through teflon\n  Where yo teflon? It's murda\n  This real shit, it's murda\n  When I kill shit, it's murda\n  Stateville, cell-block three\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\n  Uhh, picture me dead when the bars closin'\n  My mind's blank, no thinkin' murder me, foul play\n  Suicidal, ex-felony, convict nigga\n  Appetite for destruction, bounty huntin' nigga\n  Cause it's K-I-L-L or I'll be\n  Killin' motherfucka for this feelin' up in me\n  My murderous tactics is still in me\n  I'm feelin' rejected, so I can't find peace\n  I'm in the middle of the ribs of the Belly of the Beast\n  As soon as he vomit, I'm released to the streets\n  How deep? Deep, deeper than Einstein\n  Deep, deeper than Manson\n  Deep, deeper than Atlantis\n  Stateville, cell-block five\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n"},{"id":33644383,"name":"Stateville","trackName":"Stateville","artistName":"Do Or Die","albumName":"Pimpin' Ain't Dead","duration":225.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Kill 'em all!\nC'mon niggas\n\nYou don't want no static, maggot\nCause once I point the automatic, at it\nYo brain gon' get splattered, faggot\nSo have it your way\nYou got a issue wit' me?\nIt's okay, but if you dis-respect me nigga\nMotherfucka's gon' pay\nMy motherfucka's don't play\nThis some serious shit\nAnd we murder motherfucka's we get furious wit'\nThe theory is this; mob-life, learn the rules\nFuck rap, we own straps, and start burnin' fools\nAnd you can turn the dues, that got juice on the street\nBut fuck chief, we can all get loose wit' the heat\nAnd fuck peace, fuck stars, fuck whose in the lead\nIt's about who blood oozin' wit' me\nYa cock-biters\n\nI still knock bitches up off they back-wheel\nTo the day, come like Hoover, a clean will\nHarder than the bars of Stateville\nMotherfucka flip this and put bitches on stage still\nDrill a couple of slugs through they grille\nAnd chase them bitches through hay-field\nCause I'll peel, some hollow-points off in yo shit\nAnd I steal, the slugs in broad-day, bitch\nGuillotine, knock off his shoulder\nSpittin' shit, like spittin' comas\nSurround yo death, like this exposure\nCheck out my murderous fashion\n\"Enter the Dragon\" like Bruce Lee\nBracin' yoself, I keep on shootin' oozie\nI'm strapped wit' this Uzi\nI'm about to bloody up your cool-g\nLivin' vision, act ill\nAK, cell-block one, Stateville\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\nI did it all for the nation\nNow I'm in this cell waitin' patient\nKilled two niggas, natural life's what I'm facin'\nThinkin' of my son in my head, while I'm pacin'\nTwo shanks in my shoe, and four on my waste\nThat's for them big niggas, I ain't knowin' my case\nHe be dead by the mornin', before they go in the gates\nNow I got another case, and I'm locked in a hole\nNo food for months, laid on the floor\nA bitch nigga like you couldn't walk in my shoes\nMy homie, Stateville, cell-block two, nigga\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\nI remember the targets, so I catch you alone\nAnd rip up the carcus, I don't wanna be heartless\nBut I'm locked down in this one cell, in the darkness\nAnd reguardless, I rip yo brains, the remains when I kill shit\nFrom worse to the ill shit\nGot Glocks that'll tear through bricks when you build shit\nI put that on Will bitch, betta walk the line\nOr chalk up your air time\nOr fuck up your whole block\nAnd yo mama is missin', yo bitch wanna close shop\nAnd these four Glocks, go straight through teflon\nWhere yo teflon? It's murda\nThis real shit, it's murda\nWhen I kill shit, it's murda\nStateville, cell-block three\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\nUhh, picture me dead when the bars closin'\nMy mind's blank, no thinkin' murder me, foul play\nSuicidal, ex-felony, convict nigga\nAppetite for destruction, bounty huntin' nigga\nCause it's K-I-L-L or I'll be\nKillin' motherfucka for this feelin' up in me\nMy murderous tactics is still in me\nI'm feelin' rejected, so I can't find peace\nI'm in the middle of the ribs of the Belly of the Beast\nAs soon as he vomit, I'm released to the streets\nHow deep? Deep, deeper than Einstein\nDeep, deeper than Manson\nDeep, deeper than Atlantis\nStateville, cell-block five\n\n(Hook)\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMurda, murda\n(That's what I be yellin')\nMuuuurdaaa\n(Nigga, that's what I be yellin')","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stateville\n  artist: Do Or Die\n  album: Pimpin' Ain't Dead\n  duration_ms: 225000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Kill 'em all!\n  C'mon niggas\n\n  You don't want no static, maggot\n  Cause once I point the automatic, at it\n  Yo brain gon' get splattered, faggot\n  So have it your way\n  You got a issue wit' me?\n  It's okay, but if you dis-respect me nigga\n  Motherfucka's gon' pay\n  My motherfucka's don't play\n  This some serious shit\n  And we murder motherfucka's we get furious wit'\n  The theory is this; mob-life, learn the rules\n  Fuck rap, we own straps, and start burnin' fools\n  And you can turn the dues, that got juice on the street\n  But fuck chief, we can all get loose wit' the heat\n  And fuck peace, fuck stars, fuck whose in the lead\n  It's about who blood oozin' wit' me\n  Ya cock-biters\n\n  I still knock bitches up off they back-wheel\n  To the day, come like Hoover, a clean will\n  Harder than the bars of Stateville\n  Motherfucka flip this and put bitches on stage still\n  Drill a couple of slugs through they grille\n  And chase them bitches through hay-field\n  Cause I'll peel, some hollow-points off in yo shit\n  And I steal, the slugs in broad-day, bitch\n  Guillotine, knock off his shoulder\n  Spittin' shit, like spittin' comas\n  Surround yo death, like this exposure\n  Check out my murderous fashion\n  \"Enter the Dragon\" like Bruce Lee\n  Bracin' yoself, I keep on shootin' oozie\n  I'm strapped wit' this Uzi\n  I'm about to bloody up your cool-g\n  Livin' vision, act ill\n  AK, cell-block one, Stateville\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\n  I did it all for the nation\n  Now I'm in this cell waitin' patient\n  Killed two niggas, natural life's what I'm facin'\n  Thinkin' of my son in my head, while I'm pacin'\n  Two shanks in my shoe, and four on my waste\n  That's for them big niggas, I ain't knowin' my case\n  He be dead by the mornin', before they go in the gates\n  Now I got another case, and I'm locked in a hole\n  No food for months, laid on the floor\n  A bitch nigga like you couldn't walk in my shoes\n  My homie, Stateville, cell-block two, nigga\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\n  I remember the targets, so I catch you alone\n  And rip up the carcus, I don't wanna be heartless\n  But I'm locked down in this one cell, in the darkness\n  And reguardless, I rip yo brains, the remains when I kill shit\n  From worse to the ill shit\n  Got Glocks that'll tear through bricks when you build shit\n  I put that on Will bitch, betta walk the line\n  Or chalk up your air time\n  Or fuck up your whole block\n  And yo mama is missin', yo bitch wanna close shop\n  And these four Glocks, go straight through teflon\n  Where yo teflon? It's murda\n  This real shit, it's murda\n  When I kill shit, it's murda\n  Stateville, cell-block three\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n\n  Uhh, picture me dead when the bars closin'\n  My mind's blank, no thinkin' murder me, foul play\n  Suicidal, ex-felony, convict nigga\n  Appetite for destruction, bounty huntin' nigga\n  Cause it's K-I-L-L or I'll be\n  Killin' motherfucka for this feelin' up in me\n  My murderous tactics is still in me\n  I'm feelin' rejected, so I can't find peace\n  I'm in the middle of the ribs of the Belly of the Beast\n  As soon as he vomit, I'm released to the streets\n  How deep? Deep, deeper than Einstein\n  Deep, deeper than Manson\n  Deep, deeper than Atlantis\n  Stateville, cell-block five\n\n  (Hook)\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Murda, murda\n  (That's what I be yellin')\n  Muuuurdaaa\n  (Nigga, that's what I be yellin')\n"},{"id":28650306,"name":"Stateville (Ft.Traxster & Dun","trackName":"Stateville (Ft.Traxster & Dun","artistName":"Do Or Die","albumName":"Pimpin' Ain't Dead","duration":222.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Get 'em all\nCome on niggas\nYeah\n\nYou don't want no static, maggot\nCause once I point the automatic\nAt it, your brain gon' get splatted\nFaggot, so have it your way\nYou got an issue with me, it's okay\nBut if you disrespect me, nigga, motherfuckers gon' pay\nMy motherfuckers don't play, this some serious shit\nAnd we murder motherfuckers we get furious with\nThe theory is this: mob life, learn the rules\nFuck rap, we up straps and start burning fools\nAnd you can turn to dudes that got juice on the street\nBut fuck chief, we can all get loose with the heat\nAnd fuck peace, fuck stars, fuck who's in the league\nIt's about who blood ooze when we meet, you cockbiters\n\nI still knock niggas up off they fat wheel\n'Til they neck up like Hoover or\nHarder than the bars of Stateville\nMotherfucker flip clips and put bitches on stakes still\nDrill a couple slugs through they grill\nAnd chase a bitch through hay fields\nCause I peel some hollow points off in your shit\nAnd I steal the slugs in broad day\nBitch, guillotine knock off his shoulders\nSpit shit like spittin'\nSurround your death like vicious vultures\nCheck out my murderous fashion\nEnter the dragon like Bruce Lee\nPicture yourself on for shooting fools, see\nI'm strapped with this Uzi\nI'm about to bloody up your Coogi\nLiving vicious, act ill\nAK, Cell Block 1, Stateville\n\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, nigga, that's what I be yellin'\n\nI did it all for the nation\nNow I'm in a cell waiting patient\nKilled two niggas, natural life's what I'm facing\nThinking of my son in my head while I'm pacing\nTwo shanks in my shoe and four in my waist\nThat's for them big niggas, I ain't low on my case\nThey be dead by the morning 'fore they go in the gates\nNow I got another case and I'm locked in a hole\nNo food for months, laid on the floor\nA bitch nigga like you couldn't walk in my shoes\nMy home in Stateville, Cell Block 2, nigga\n\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, nigga, that's what I be yellin'\n\nI'm labeled a target\nSo I catch you alone and rip up the carcass\nAnd I wanna be heartless\nBut I'm locked down in this one cell in the darkness\nAnd regardless, I rearrange the remains when I kill shit\nI'm on some ill shit\nGot Glocks that'll tear through bricks when the bill shit\nI put that on Will, bitch\nBetter walk blind or chop off your airtime\nI fuck up the whole block\nKill your momma and your bitch and your bitch when I close shop\nAnd these four Glocks go straight through Teflon\nWhere your Teflon? It's murder\nThis real shit, it's murder\nWhen I kill shit, it's murder\nStateville, Cell Block 3\n\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, nigga, that's what I be yellin'\n\nI'm mentally dead when the bars close\nAnd my mind's blank, I'm thinking murder, maybe blank\nA suicide ex-felony, convict nigga\nAppetite for destruction, bounty hunt nigga\nCause it's K-I-L-L or I'll be\nKilling motherfucker for this villain up in me\nMy murderous tactics is still in me\nI'm feeling rejected so I can't find peace\nI'm in the middle of the ribs of the belly of the beast\nAs soon as he vomit, I'm released to the streets\nHow deep? Deep, deeper than Einstein\nDeep, deeper than Manson\nDeep, deep, deeper than Atlantis\nStateville, Cell Block 5\n\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\nMurder, nigga, that's what I be yellin'","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stateville (Ft.Traxster & Dun\n  artist: Do Or Die\n  album: Pimpin' Ain't Dead\n  duration_ms: 222000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Get 'em all\n  Come on niggas\n  Yeah\n\n  You don't want no static, maggot\n  Cause once I point the automatic\n  At it, your brain gon' get splatted\n  Faggot, so have it your way\n  You got an issue with me, it's okay\n  But if you disrespect me, nigga, motherfuckers gon' pay\n  My motherfuckers don't play, this some serious shit\n  And we murder motherfuckers we get furious with\n  The theory is this: mob life, learn the rules\n  Fuck rap, we up straps and start burning fools\n  And you can turn to dudes that got juice on the street\n  But fuck chief, we can all get loose with the heat\n  And fuck peace, fuck stars, fuck who's in the league\n  It's about who blood ooze when we meet, you cockbiters\n\n  I still knock niggas up off they fat wheel\n  'Til they neck up like Hoover or\n  Harder than the bars of Stateville\n  Motherfucker flip clips and put bitches on stakes still\n  Drill a couple slugs through they grill\n  And chase a bitch through hay fields\n  Cause I peel some hollow points off in your shit\n  And I steal the slugs in broad day\n  Bitch, guillotine knock off his shoulders\n  Spit shit like spittin'\n  Surround your death like vicious vultures\n  Check out my murderous fashion\n  Enter the dragon like Bruce Lee\n  Picture yourself on for shooting fools, see\n  I'm strapped with this Uzi\n  I'm about to bloody up your Coogi\n  Living vicious, act ill\n  AK, Cell Block 1, Stateville\n\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, nigga, that's what I be yellin'\n\n  I did it all for the nation\n  Now I'm in a cell waiting patient\n  Killed two niggas, natural life's what I'm facing\n  Thinking of my son in my head while I'm pacing\n  Two shanks in my shoe and four in my waist\n  That's for them big niggas, I ain't low on my case\n  They be dead by the morning 'fore they go in the gates\n  Now I got another case and I'm locked in a hole\n  No food for months, laid on the floor\n  A bitch nigga like you couldn't walk in my shoes\n  My home in Stateville, Cell Block 2, nigga\n\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, nigga, that's what I be yellin'\n\n  I'm labeled a target\n  So I catch you alone and rip up the carcass\n  And I wanna be heartless\n  But I'm locked down in this one cell in the darkness\n  And regardless, I rearrange the remains when I kill shit\n  I'm on some ill shit\n  Got Glocks that'll tear through bricks when the bill shit\n  I put that on Will, bitch\n  Better walk blind or chop off your airtime\n  I fuck up the whole block\n  Kill your momma and your bitch and your bitch when I close shop\n  And these four Glocks go straight through Teflon\n  Where your Teflon? It's murder\n  This real shit, it's murder\n  When I kill shit, it's murder\n  Stateville, Cell Block 3\n\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, nigga, that's what I be yellin'\n\n  I'm mentally dead when the bars close\n  And my mind's blank, I'm thinking murder, maybe blank\n  A suicide ex-felony, convict nigga\n  Appetite for destruction, bounty hunt nigga\n  Cause it's K-I-L-L or I'll be\n  Killing motherfucker for this villain up in me\n  My murderous tactics is still in me\n  I'm feeling rejected so I can't find peace\n  I'm in the middle of the ribs of the belly of the beast\n  As soon as he vomit, I'm released to the streets\n  How deep? Deep, deeper than Einstein\n  Deep, deeper than Manson\n  Deep, deep, deeper than Atlantis\n  Stateville, Cell Block 5\n\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, murder, that's what I be yellin'\n  Murder, nigga, that's what I be yellin'\n"},{"id":11723203,"name":"Stateville","trackName":"Stateville","artistName":"Do or Die feat. Traxster & Dun D","albumName":"Pimpin Ain't Dead","duration":222.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You like to eat assholes with cheese and rice\nYou like it so much that you eat it morn, noon, and night\nOnly thing to make my life complete\nIs if I turn your face into a toilet seat\n(Show me your face... I'm gonna PISS on it)\nYo check it, I spit hot fire\nI spit it through the wire\nI am no liar\nRepresentin Dayton, Mother Bitches\n\nYo yo yo yo yo\nMy rhymes are hot they burn my lips\nI only likes girls with the boney hips,\nWhen I eat cheeseburgers, some of them be greasy\nNo one ever told me pimpin was so easy\nI don't need you honey,\nI beat on my meat like it owes me money\nYo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo\n\nStateville","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stateville\n  artist: Do or Die feat. Traxster & Dun D\n  album: Pimpin Ain't Dead\n  duration_ms: 222000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You like to eat assholes with cheese and rice\n  You like it so much that you eat it morn, noon, and night\n  Only thing to make my life complete\n  Is if I turn your face into a toilet seat\n  (Show me your face... I'm gonna PISS on it)\n  Yo check it, I spit hot fire\n  I spit it through the wire\n  I am no liar\n  Representin Dayton, Mother Bitches\n\n  Yo yo yo yo yo\n  My rhymes are hot they burn my lips\n  I only likes girls with the boney hips,\n  When I eat cheeseburgers, some of them be greasy\n  No one ever told me pimpin was so easy\n  I don't need you honey,\n  I beat on my meat like it owes me money\n  Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo\n\n  Stateville\n"},{"id":14198199,"name":"Stateville feat. Traxster & Dun D","trackName":"Stateville feat. Traxster & Dun D","artistName":"Do Or Die","albumName":"Pimpin' Aint Dead","duration":222.453333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You like to eat assholes with cheese and rice\nYou like it so much that you eat it morn, noon, and night\nOnly thing to make my life complete\nIs if I turn your face into a toilet seat\n(Show me your face... I'm gonna PISS on it)\nYo check it, I spit hot fire\nI spit it through the wire\nI am no liar\nRepresentin Dayton, Mother Bitches\n\nYo yo yo yo yo\nMy rhymes are hot they burn my lips\nI only likes girls with the boney hips,\nWhen I eat cheeseburgers, some of them be greasy\nNo one ever told me pimpin was so easy\nI don't need you honey,\nI beat on my meat like it owes me money\nYo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo\n\nStateville","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Stateville feat. Traxster & Dun D\n  artist: Do Or Die\n  album: Pimpin' Aint Dead\n  duration_ms: 222453\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You like to eat assholes with cheese and rice\n  You like it so much that you eat it morn, noon, and night\n  Only thing to make my life complete\n  Is if I turn your face into a toilet seat\n  (Show me your face... I'm gonna PISS on it)\n  Yo check it, I spit hot fire\n  I spit it through the wire\n  I am no liar\n  Representin Dayton, Mother Bitches\n\n  Yo yo yo yo yo\n  My rhymes are hot they burn my lips\n  I only likes girls with the boney hips,\n  When I eat cheeseburgers, some of them be greasy\n  No one ever told me pimpin was so easy\n  I don't need you honey,\n  I beat on my meat like it owes me money\n  Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo Yo\n\n  Stateville\n"}]