[{"id":24244295,"name":"Whooped","trackName":"Whooped","artistName":"E‐40 & B‐Legit","albumName":"Connected and Respected","duration":184.88,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Half past faded, half past burnt\nHalf past zooted, half past turnt\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nI'm whooped\n\nI'm havin' my mathematics, packin' them semi-automatics\nI was born to be a savage from the cradle to the casket\nI'm cut from a different fabric, not no vinyl or no plastic\nI ain't at the airport (but what?) but I'm getting to the baggage\nAt the outdoor shooting range is where I practice my science\nTryin' to apply for my CCW license\nThe rifles I bust is for hunting wildlife and bison\nThe people I trust are my family, kids, and my wife\nAnd most of you niggas fakes,\nsee right through you suckas like Christmas wrapping tape\nOpen you up tryin' to run up in my estate\nTry your luck, meet your fate\nGet cut down like a Wagu steak\nPut some holes in your face just like a wrought iron gate\nI don't let grass grow up under my feet, I stay bustin' patterns\nI could stay like a license plate at a bar or a tavern\nThese bitches be on me, they like the way I finesse\nThe way that I carry it and the way that I dress... BIATCH!\n\nHalf past faded, half past burnt\nHalf past zooted, half past turnt\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nI'm whooped\n\nGet to feeling like aliens around me ('round me)\nParanoid, I be on the OG (OG)\nBag underrated if you ask me (ask me)\nCould put it in the can where the trash be (trash be)\nBitches love B-la, he a activist (activist)\nForever locked in with the Africans (Africans)\nOn the frontline with a black stick (black stick)\nMilitary issue, get to clappin' them (clappin' them)\nCalifornia face on a Georgia peach (Georgia peach)\nMet a nigga up when I'm in the streets (in the streets)\nTryin' to do it all, she a little freak (little freak)\nHer homegirl with her, really wanna eat (wanna eat)\nWatch her lick it up, she gon' hit it up (hit it up)\nBaby girl a nut, she gon' spit it up (spit it up)\nRemy in her cup, lemon in her blunt (in her blunt)\nAnd I've been getting fucked up all month (BIATCH!)\n\nHalf past faded, half past burnt\nHalf past zooted, half past turnt\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nI'm whooped (Whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nI'm whooped (Whooped)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Whooped\n  artist: E‐40 & B‐Legit\n  album: Connected and Respected\n  duration_ms: 184880\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Half past faded, half past burnt\n  Half past zooted, half past turnt\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  I'm whooped\n\n  I'm havin' my mathematics, packin' them semi-automatics\n  I was born to be a savage from the cradle to the casket\n  I'm cut from a different fabric, not no vinyl or no plastic\n  I ain't at the airport (but what?) but I'm getting to the baggage\n  At the outdoor shooting range is where I practice my science\n  Tryin' to apply for my CCW license\n  The rifles I bust is for hunting wildlife and bison\n  The people I trust are my family, kids, and my wife\n  And most of you niggas fakes,\n  see right through you suckas like Christmas wrapping tape\n  Open you up tryin' to run up in my estate\n  Try your luck, meet your fate\n  Get cut down like a Wagu steak\n  Put some holes in your face just like a wrought iron gate\n  I don't let grass grow up under my feet, I stay bustin' patterns\n  I could stay like a license plate at a bar or a tavern\n  These bitches be on me, they like the way I finesse\n  The way that I carry it and the way that I dress... BIATCH!\n\n  Half past faded, half past burnt\n  Half past zooted, half past turnt\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  I'm whooped\n\n  Get to feeling like aliens around me ('round me)\n  Paranoid, I be on the OG (OG)\n  Bag underrated if you ask me (ask me)\n  Could put it in the can where the trash be (trash be)\n  Bitches love B-la, he a activist (activist)\n  Forever locked in with the Africans (Africans)\n  On the frontline with a black stick (black stick)\n  Military issue, get to clappin' them (clappin' them)\n  California face on a Georgia peach (Georgia peach)\n  Met a nigga up when I'm in the streets (in the streets)\n  Tryin' to do it all, she a little freak (little freak)\n  Her homegirl with her, really wanna eat (wanna eat)\n  Watch her lick it up, she gon' hit it up (hit it up)\n  Baby girl a nut, she gon' spit it up (spit it up)\n  Remy in her cup, lemon in her blunt (in her blunt)\n  And I've been getting fucked up all month (BIATCH!)\n\n  Half past faded, half past burnt\n  Half past zooted, half past turnt\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  I'm whooped (Whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  I'm whooped (Whooped)\n"},{"id":40113578,"name":"Whooped","trackName":"Whooped","artistName":"E-40, B-Legit, DecadeZ","albumName":"Connected and Respected","duration":185.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Half past faded, half past burnt\nHalf past zooted, half past turnt\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nI'm whooped\n\nI'm havin' my mathematics, packin' them semi-automatics\nI was born to be a savage from the cradle to the casket\nI'm cut from a different fabric, not no vinyl or no plastic\nI ain't at the airport (but what?) but I'm getting to the baggage\nAt the outdoor shooting range is where I practice my science\nTryin' to apply for my CCW license\nThe rifles I bust is for hunting wildlife and bison\nThe people I trust are my family, kids, and my wife\nAnd most of you niggas fakes,\nsee right through you suckas like Christmas wrapping tape\nOpen you up tryin' to run up in my estate\nTry your luck, meet your fate\nGet cut down like a Wagu steak\nPut some holes in your face just like a wrought iron gate\nI don't let grass grow up under my feet, I stay bustin' patterns\nI could stay like a license plate at a bar or a tavern\nThese bitches be on me, they like the way I finesse\nThe way that I carry it and the way that I dress... BIATCH!\n\nHalf past faded, half past burnt\nHalf past zooted, half past turnt\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nI'm whooped\n\nGet to feeling like aliens around me ('round me)\nParanoid, I be on the OG (OG)\nBag underrated if you ask me (ask me)\nCould put it in the can where the trash be (trash be)\nBitches love B-la, he a activist (activist)\nForever locked in with the Africans (Africans)\nOn the frontline with a black stick (black stick)\nMilitary issue, get to clappin' them (clappin' them)\nCalifornia face on a Georgia peach (Georgia peach)\nMet a nigga up when I'm in the streets (in the streets)\nTryin' to do it all, she a little freak (little freak)\nHer homegirl with her, really wanna eat (wanna eat)\nWatch her lick it up, she gon' hit it up (hit it up)\nBaby girl a nut, she gon' spit it up (spit it up)\nRemy in her cup, lemon in her blunt (in her blunt)\nAnd I've been getting fucked up all month (BIATCH!)\n\nHalf past faded, half past burnt\nHalf past zooted, half past turnt\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nI'm whooped (Whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nI'm whooped (Whooped)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Whooped\n  artist: E-40, B-Legit, DecadeZ\n  album: Connected and Respected\n  duration_ms: 184921\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Half past faded, half past burnt\n  Half past zooted, half past turnt\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  I'm whooped\n\n  I'm havin' my mathematics, packin' them semi-automatics\n  I was born to be a savage from the cradle to the casket\n  I'm cut from a different fabric, not no vinyl or no plastic\n  I ain't at the airport (but what?) but I'm getting to the baggage\n  At the outdoor shooting range is where I practice my science\n  Tryin' to apply for my CCW license\n  The rifles I bust is for hunting wildlife and bison\n  The people I trust are my family, kids, and my wife\n  And most of you niggas fakes,\n  see right through you suckas like Christmas wrapping tape\n  Open you up tryin' to run up in my estate\n  Try your luck, meet your fate\n  Get cut down like a Wagu steak\n  Put some holes in your face just like a wrought iron gate\n  I don't let grass grow up under my feet, I stay bustin' patterns\n  I could stay like a license plate at a bar or a tavern\n  These bitches be on me, they like the way I finesse\n  The way that I carry it and the way that I dress... BIATCH!\n\n  Half past faded, half past burnt\n  Half past zooted, half past turnt\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  I'm whooped\n\n  Get to feeling like aliens around me ('round me)\n  Paranoid, I be on the OG (OG)\n  Bag underrated if you ask me (ask me)\n  Could put it in the can where the trash be (trash be)\n  Bitches love B-la, he a activist (activist)\n  Forever locked in with the Africans (Africans)\n  On the frontline with a black stick (black stick)\n  Military issue, get to clappin' them (clappin' them)\n  California face on a Georgia peach (Georgia peach)\n  Met a nigga up when I'm in the streets (in the streets)\n  Tryin' to do it all, she a little freak (little freak)\n  Her homegirl with her, really wanna eat (wanna eat)\n  Watch her lick it up, she gon' hit it up (hit it up)\n  Baby girl a nut, she gon' spit it up (spit it up)\n  Remy in her cup, lemon in her blunt (in her blunt)\n  And I've been getting fucked up all month (BIATCH!)\n\n  Half past faded, half past burnt\n  Half past zooted, half past turnt\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  I'm whooped (Whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  I'm whooped (Whooped)\n"},{"id":10716207,"name":"Whooped","trackName":"Whooped","artistName":"E‐40 & B‐Legit feat. DecadeZ","albumName":"Connected and Respected","duration":185.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Half past faded, half past burnt\nHalf past zooted, half past turnt\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nI'm whooped\n\nI'm havin' my mathematics, packin' them semi-automatics\nI was born to be a savage from the cradle to the casket\nI'm cut from a different fabric, not no vinyl or no plastic\nI ain't at the airport (but what?) but I'm getting to the baggage\nAt the outdoor shooting range is where I practice my science\nTryin' to apply for my CCW license\nThe rifles I bust is for hunting wildlife and bison\nThe people I trust are my family, kids, and my wife\nAnd most of you niggas fakes,\nsee right through you suckas like Christmas wrapping tape\nOpen you up tryin' to run up in my estate\nTry your luck, meet your fate\nGet cut down like a Wagu steak\nPut some holes in your face just like a wrought iron gate\nI don't let grass grow up under my feet, I stay bustin' patterns\nI could stay like a license plate at a bar or a tavern\nThese bitches be on me, they like the way I finesse\nThe way that I carry it and the way that I dress... BIATCH!\n\nHalf past faded, half past burnt\nHalf past zooted, half past turnt\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nBoy, I'm whooped\nI'm whooped\n\nGet to feeling like aliens around me ('round me)\nParanoid, I be on the OG (OG)\nBag underrated if you ask me (ask me)\nCould put it in the can where the trash be (trash be)\nBitches love B-la, he a activist (activist)\nForever locked in with the Africans (Africans)\nOn the frontline with a black stick (black stick)\nMilitary issue, get to clappin' them (clappin' them)\nCalifornia face on a Georgia peach (Georgia peach)\nMet a nigga up when I'm in the streets (in the streets)\nTryin' to do it all, she a little freak (little freak)\nHer homegirl with her, really wanna eat (wanna eat)\nWatch her lick it up, she gon' hit it up (hit it up)\nBaby girl a nut, she gon' spit it up (spit it up)\nRemy in her cup, lemon in her blunt (in her blunt)\nAnd I've been getting fucked up all month (BIATCH!)\n\nHalf past faded, half past burnt\nHalf past zooted, half past turnt\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nI'm whooped (Whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nBoy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\nI'm whooped (Whooped)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Whooped\n  artist: E‐40 & B‐Legit feat. DecadeZ\n  album: Connected and Respected\n  duration_ms: 185000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Half past faded, half past burnt\n  Half past zooted, half past turnt\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  I'm whooped\n\n  I'm havin' my mathematics, packin' them semi-automatics\n  I was born to be a savage from the cradle to the casket\n  I'm cut from a different fabric, not no vinyl or no plastic\n  I ain't at the airport (but what?) but I'm getting to the baggage\n  At the outdoor shooting range is where I practice my science\n  Tryin' to apply for my CCW license\n  The rifles I bust is for hunting wildlife and bison\n  The people I trust are my family, kids, and my wife\n  And most of you niggas fakes,\n  see right through you suckas like Christmas wrapping tape\n  Open you up tryin' to run up in my estate\n  Try your luck, meet your fate\n  Get cut down like a Wagu steak\n  Put some holes in your face just like a wrought iron gate\n  I don't let grass grow up under my feet, I stay bustin' patterns\n  I could stay like a license plate at a bar or a tavern\n  These bitches be on me, they like the way I finesse\n  The way that I carry it and the way that I dress... BIATCH!\n\n  Half past faded, half past burnt\n  Half past zooted, half past turnt\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  Boy, I'm whooped\n  I'm whooped\n\n  Get to feeling like aliens around me ('round me)\n  Paranoid, I be on the OG (OG)\n  Bag underrated if you ask me (ask me)\n  Could put it in the can where the trash be (trash be)\n  Bitches love B-la, he a activist (activist)\n  Forever locked in with the Africans (Africans)\n  On the frontline with a black stick (black stick)\n  Military issue, get to clappin' them (clappin' them)\n  California face on a Georgia peach (Georgia peach)\n  Met a nigga up when I'm in the streets (in the streets)\n  Tryin' to do it all, she a little freak (little freak)\n  Her homegirl with her, really wanna eat (wanna eat)\n  Watch her lick it up, she gon' hit it up (hit it up)\n  Baby girl a nut, she gon' spit it up (spit it up)\n  Remy in her cup, lemon in her blunt (in her blunt)\n  And I've been getting fucked up all month (BIATCH!)\n\n  Half past faded, half past burnt\n  Half past zooted, half past turnt\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  I'm whooped (Whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  Boy, I'm whooped (Boy, I'm whooped)\n  I'm whooped (Whooped)\n"}]