[{"id":2249970,"name":"Hardcore","trackName":"Hardcore","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Business As Usual","duration":272.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Chorus)\nHardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n(Pmd)\n\nWhen I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\nSome say it's chill, new york throw chairs\nThe punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\nGirls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\nLow to avoid the caps and blows\nBy the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\nWit the cops trying to control the crowd\nBut they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\nBlows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\nBrothers licking off like the son of sam and\nThe bass continues to thump\nSome brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\nHoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\nBrothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\nAnd on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\nNiggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\nChorus\n\n(E double)\n\nRap combat squares sat and I attack\nAny crab mc that's down wit the wack\nAnd I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\nThrow a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\nI'm terror, new edition to rap era\nI can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\nI'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\nI'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\nYo, wit that, I can break fool\nEspecially when the posse is thick and got tools\nMake me feel good 'cause they got steel\nNo blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\nK-a, microphone wrecker e-d\nThe o, the u, the b, the l to the e\nRocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\nMy name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\nI'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\nMess wit me and get your manhood token\n\nChorus\n\n(Redman)\n\nI got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\nYou bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\nI catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\nAnd my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\nRedman ready to rock ruff rhymes\nRenegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\nPunk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\nPack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\nFe fi fo fum funky to floor a\nFuck a freak, words before play\nQuickly, quiet is kept, never quack\nOn a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\nA monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\nA madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\nBullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\nBread and butter, break beast to bam bam\nJump off the jim before I jack my johnson\nI jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\nGet a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\nCan you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\nYes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\nMy afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\nKnown as I live large, life will be luxury\nLadies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\nNasty nigga, competition is none\nFrom newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\nShit, rap is still when I'm stroking\nSmoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\nCool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\nCut like chuckie, plus style it top d\nSuper mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\nHold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\nChorus","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Hardcore\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Business As Usual\n  duration_ms: 272000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (Chorus)\n  Hardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n  (Pmd)\n\n  When I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\n  Some say it's chill, new york throw chairs\n  The punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\n  Girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\n  Low to avoid the caps and blows\n  By the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\n  Wit the cops trying to control the crowd\n  But they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\n  Blows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\n  Brothers licking off like the son of sam and\n  The bass continues to thump\n  Some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\n  Hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\n  Brothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\n  And on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\n  Niggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (E double)\n\n  Rap combat squares sat and I attack\n  Any crab mc that's down wit the wack\n  And I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\n  Throw a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\n  I'm terror, new edition to rap era\n  I can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\n  I'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\n  I'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\n  Yo, wit that, I can break fool\n  Especially when the posse is thick and got tools\n  Make me feel good 'cause they got steel\n  No blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\n  K-a, microphone wrecker e-d\n  The o, the u, the b, the l to the e\n  Rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\n  My name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\n  I'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\n  Mess wit me and get your manhood token\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (Redman)\n\n  I got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\n  You bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\n  I catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\n  And my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\n  Redman ready to rock ruff rhymes\n  Renegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\n  Punk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\n  Pack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\n  Fe fi fo fum funky to floor a\n  Fuck a freak, words before play\n  Quickly, quiet is kept, never quack\n  On a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\n  A monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\n  A madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\n  Bullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\n  Bread and butter, break beast to bam bam\n  Jump off the jim before I jack my johnson\n  I jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\n  Get a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\n  Can you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\n  Yes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\n  My afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\n  Known as I live large, life will be luxury\n  Ladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\n  Nasty nigga, competition is none\n  From newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\n  Shit, rap is still when I'm stroking\n  Smoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\n  Cool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\n  Cut like chuckie, plus style it top d\n  Super mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\n  Hold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\n  Chorus\n"},{"id":19065213,"name":"Hardcore","trackName":"Hardcore","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Business As Usual","duration":269.374694,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Chorus)\nHardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n(Pmd)\n\nWhen I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\nSome say it's chill, new york throw chairs\nThe punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\nGirls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\nLow to avoid the caps and blows\nBy the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\nWit the cops trying to control the crowd\nBut they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\nBlows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\nBrothers licking off like the son of sam and\nThe bass continues to thump\nSome brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\nHoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\nBrothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\nAnd on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\nNiggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\nChorus\n\n(E double)\n\nRap combat squares sat and I attack\nAny crab mc that's down wit the wack\nAnd I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\nThrow a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\nI'm terror, new edition to rap era\nI can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\nI'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\nI'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\nYo, wit that, I can break fool\nEspecially when the posse is thick and got tools\nMake me feel good 'cause they got steel\nNo blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\nK-a, microphone wrecker e-d\nThe o, the u, the b, the l to the e\nRocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\nMy name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\nI'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\nMess wit me and get your manhood token\n\nChorus\n\n(Redman)\n\nI got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\nYou bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\nI catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\nAnd my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\nRedman ready to rock ruff rhymes\nRenegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\nPunk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\nPack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\nFe fi fo fum funky to floor a\nFuck a freak, words before play\nQuickly, quiet is kept, never quack\nOn a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\nA monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\nA madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\nBullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\nBread and butter, break beast to bam bam\nJump off the jim before I jack my johnson\nI jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\nGet a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\nCan you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\nYes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\nMy afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\nKnown as I live large, life will be luxury\nLadies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\nNasty nigga, competition is none\nFrom newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\nShit, rap is still when I'm stroking\nSmoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\nCool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\nCut like chuckie, plus style it top d\nSuper mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\nHold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\nChorus","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Hardcore\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Business As Usual\n  duration_ms: 269375\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (Chorus)\n  Hardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n  (Pmd)\n\n  When I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\n  Some say it's chill, new york throw chairs\n  The punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\n  Girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\n  Low to avoid the caps and blows\n  By the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\n  Wit the cops trying to control the crowd\n  But they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\n  Blows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\n  Brothers licking off like the son of sam and\n  The bass continues to thump\n  Some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\n  Hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\n  Brothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\n  And on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\n  Niggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (E double)\n\n  Rap combat squares sat and I attack\n  Any crab mc that's down wit the wack\n  And I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\n  Throw a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\n  I'm terror, new edition to rap era\n  I can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\n  I'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\n  I'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\n  Yo, wit that, I can break fool\n  Especially when the posse is thick and got tools\n  Make me feel good 'cause they got steel\n  No blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\n  K-a, microphone wrecker e-d\n  The o, the u, the b, the l to the e\n  Rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\n  My name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\n  I'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\n  Mess wit me and get your manhood token\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (Redman)\n\n  I got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\n  You bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\n  I catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\n  And my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\n  Redman ready to rock ruff rhymes\n  Renegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\n  Punk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\n  Pack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\n  Fe fi fo fum funky to floor a\n  Fuck a freak, words before play\n  Quickly, quiet is kept, never quack\n  On a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\n  A monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\n  A madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\n  Bullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\n  Bread and butter, break beast to bam bam\n  Jump off the jim before I jack my johnson\n  I jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\n  Get a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\n  Can you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\n  Yes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\n  My afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\n  Known as I live large, life will be luxury\n  Ladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\n  Nasty nigga, competition is none\n  From newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\n  Shit, rap is still when I'm stroking\n  Smoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\n  Cool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\n  Cut like chuckie, plus style it top d\n  Super mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\n  Hold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\n  Chorus\n"},{"id":22069182,"name":"Hardcore","trackName":"Hardcore","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Business As Usual (Japan Remastered)","duration":271.533333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Chorus)\nHardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n(Pmd)\n\nWhen I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\nSome say it's chill, new york throw chairs\nThe punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\nGirls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\nLow to avoid the caps and blows\nBy the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\nWit the cops trying to control the crowd\nBut they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\nBlows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\nBrothers licking off like the son of sam and\nThe bass continues to thump\nSome brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\nHoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\nBrothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\nAnd on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\nNiggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\nChorus\n\n(E double)\n\nRap combat squares sat and I attack\nAny crab mc that's down wit the wack\nAnd I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\nThrow a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\nI'm terror, new edition to rap era\nI can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\nI'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\nI'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\nYo, wit that, I can break fool\nEspecially when the posse is thick and got tools\nMake me feel good 'cause they got steel\nNo blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\nK-a, microphone wrecker e-d\nThe o, the u, the b, the l to the e\nRocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\nMy name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\nI'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\nMess wit me and get your manhood token\n\nChorus\n\n(Redman)\n\nI got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\nYou bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\nI catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\nAnd my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\nRedman ready to rock ruff rhymes\nRenegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\nPunk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\nPack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\nFe fi fo fum funky to floor a\nFuck a freak, words before play\nQuickly, quiet is kept, never quack\nOn a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\nA monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\nA madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\nBullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\nBread and butter, break beast to bam bam\nJump off the jim before I jack my johnson\nI jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\nGet a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\nCan you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\nYes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\nMy afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\nKnown as I live large, life will be luxury\nLadies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\nNasty nigga, competition is none\nFrom newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\nShit, rap is still when I'm stroking\nSmoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\nCool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\nCut like chuckie, plus style it top d\nSuper mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\nHold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\nChorus","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Hardcore\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Business As Usual (Japan Remastered)\n  duration_ms: 271533\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (Chorus)\n  Hardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n  (Pmd)\n\n  When I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\n  Some say it's chill, new york throw chairs\n  The punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\n  Girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\n  Low to avoid the caps and blows\n  By the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\n  Wit the cops trying to control the crowd\n  But they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\n  Blows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\n  Brothers licking off like the son of sam and\n  The bass continues to thump\n  Some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\n  Hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\n  Brothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\n  And on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\n  Niggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (E double)\n\n  Rap combat squares sat and I attack\n  Any crab mc that's down wit the wack\n  And I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\n  Throw a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\n  I'm terror, new edition to rap era\n  I can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\n  I'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\n  I'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\n  Yo, wit that, I can break fool\n  Especially when the posse is thick and got tools\n  Make me feel good 'cause they got steel\n  No blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\n  K-a, microphone wrecker e-d\n  The o, the u, the b, the l to the e\n  Rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\n  My name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\n  I'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\n  Mess wit me and get your manhood token\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (Redman)\n\n  I got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\n  You bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\n  I catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\n  And my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\n  Redman ready to rock ruff rhymes\n  Renegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\n  Punk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\n  Pack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\n  Fe fi fo fum funky to floor a\n  Fuck a freak, words before play\n  Quickly, quiet is kept, never quack\n  On a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\n  A monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\n  A madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\n  Bullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\n  Bread and butter, break beast to bam bam\n  Jump off the jim before I jack my johnson\n  I jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\n  Get a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\n  Can you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\n  Yes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\n  My afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\n  Known as I live large, life will be luxury\n  Ladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\n  Nasty nigga, competition is none\n  From newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\n  Shit, rap is still when I'm stroking\n  Smoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\n  Cool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\n  Cut like chuckie, plus style it top d\n  Super mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\n  Hold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\n  Chorus\n"},{"id":34501115,"name":"Hardcore","trackName":"Hardcore","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Business As Usual","duration":267.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Chorus)\nHardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n(Pmd)\n\nWhen I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\nSome say it's chill, new york throw chairs\nThe punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\nGirls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\nLow to avoid the caps and blows\nBy the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\nWit the cops trying to control the crowd\nBut they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\nBlows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\nBrothers licking off like the son of sam and\nThe bass continues to thump\nSome brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\nHoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\nBrothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\nAnd on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\nNiggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\nChorus\n\n(E double)\n\nRap combat squares sat and I attack\nAny crab mc that's down wit the wack\nAnd I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\nThrow a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\nI'm terror, new edition to rap era\nI can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\nI'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\nI'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\nYo, wit that, I can break fool\nEspecially when the posse is thick and got tools\nMake me feel good 'cause they got steel\nNo blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\nK-a, microphone wrecker e-d\nThe o, the u, the b, the l to the e\nRocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\nMy name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\nI'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\nMess wit me and get your manhood token\n\nChorus\n\n(Redman)\n\nI got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\nYou bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\nI catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\nAnd my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\nRedman ready to rock ruff rhymes\nRenegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\nPunk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\nPack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\nFe fi fo fum funky to floor a\nFuck a freak, words before play\nQuickly, quiet is kept, never quack\nOn a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\nA monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\nA madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\nBullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\nBread and butter, break beast to bam bam\nJump off the jim before I jack my johnson\nI jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\nGet a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\nCan you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\nYes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\nMy afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\nKnown as I live large, life will be luxury\nLadies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\nNasty nigga, competition is none\nFrom newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\nShit, rap is still when I'm stroking\nSmoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\nCool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\nCut like chuckie, plus style it top d\nSuper mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\nHold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\nChorus","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Hardcore\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Business As Usual\n  duration_ms: 267000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (Chorus)\n  Hardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n  (Pmd)\n\n  When I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\n  Some say it's chill, new york throw chairs\n  The punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\n  Girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\n  Low to avoid the caps and blows\n  By the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\n  Wit the cops trying to control the crowd\n  But they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\n  Blows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\n  Brothers licking off like the son of sam and\n  The bass continues to thump\n  Some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\n  Hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\n  Brothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\n  And on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\n  Niggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (E double)\n\n  Rap combat squares sat and I attack\n  Any crab mc that's down wit the wack\n  And I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\n  Throw a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\n  I'm terror, new edition to rap era\n  I can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\n  I'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\n  I'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\n  Yo, wit that, I can break fool\n  Especially when the posse is thick and got tools\n  Make me feel good 'cause they got steel\n  No blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\n  K-a, microphone wrecker e-d\n  The o, the u, the b, the l to the e\n  Rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\n  My name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\n  I'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\n  Mess wit me and get your manhood token\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (Redman)\n\n  I got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\n  You bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\n  I catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\n  And my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\n  Redman ready to rock ruff rhymes\n  Renegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\n  Punk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\n  Pack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\n  Fe fi fo fum funky to floor a\n  Fuck a freak, words before play\n  Quickly, quiet is kept, never quack\n  On a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\n  A monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\n  A madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\n  Bullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\n  Bread and butter, break beast to bam bam\n  Jump off the jim before I jack my johnson\n  I jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\n  Get a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\n  Can you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\n  Yes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\n  My afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\n  Known as I live large, life will be luxury\n  Ladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\n  Nasty nigga, competition is none\n  From newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\n  Shit, rap is still when I'm stroking\n  Smoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\n  Cool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\n  Cut like chuckie, plus style it top d\n  Super mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\n  Hold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\n  Chorus\n"},{"id":37458532,"name":"Hardcore","trackName":"Hardcore","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Business As Usual (incomplete)","duration":272.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Chorus)\nHardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n(Pmd)\n\nWhen I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\nSome say it's chill, new york throw chairs\nThe punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\nGirls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\nLow to avoid the caps and blows\nBy the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\nWit the cops trying to control the crowd\nBut they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\nBlows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\nBrothers licking off like the son of sam and\nThe bass continues to thump\nSome brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\nHoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\nBrothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\nAnd on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\nNiggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\nChorus\n\n(E double)\n\nRap combat squares sat and I attack\nAny crab mc that's down wit the wack\nAnd I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\nThrow a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\nI'm terror, new edition to rap era\nI can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\nI'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\nI'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\nYo, wit that, I can break fool\nEspecially when the posse is thick and got tools\nMake me feel good 'cause they got steel\nNo blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\nK-a, microphone wrecker e-d\nThe o, the u, the b, the l to the e\nRocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\nMy name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\nI'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\nMess wit me and get your manhood token\n\nChorus\n\n(Redman)\n\nI got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\nYou bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\nI catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\nAnd my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\nRedman ready to rock ruff rhymes\nRenegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\nPunk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\nPack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\nFe fi fo fum funky to floor a\nFuck a freak, words before play\nQuickly, quiet is kept, never quack\nOn a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\nA monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\nA madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\nBullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\nBread and butter, break beast to bam bam\nJump off the jim before I jack my johnson\nI jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\nGet a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\nCan you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\nYes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\nMy afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\nKnown as I live large, life will be luxury\nLadies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\nNasty nigga, competition is none\nFrom newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\nShit, rap is still when I'm stroking\nSmoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\nCool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\nCut like chuckie, plus style it top d\nSuper mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\nHold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\nChorus","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Hardcore\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Business As Usual (incomplete)\n  duration_ms: 271595\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (Chorus)\n  Hardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n  (Pmd)\n\n  When I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\n  Some say it's chill, new york throw chairs\n  The punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\n  Girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\n  Low to avoid the caps and blows\n  By the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\n  Wit the cops trying to control the crowd\n  But they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\n  Blows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\n  Brothers licking off like the son of sam and\n  The bass continues to thump\n  Some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\n  Hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\n  Brothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\n  And on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\n  Niggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (E double)\n\n  Rap combat squares sat and I attack\n  Any crab mc that's down wit the wack\n  And I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\n  Throw a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\n  I'm terror, new edition to rap era\n  I can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\n  I'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\n  I'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\n  Yo, wit that, I can break fool\n  Especially when the posse is thick and got tools\n  Make me feel good 'cause they got steel\n  No blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\n  K-a, microphone wrecker e-d\n  The o, the u, the b, the l to the e\n  Rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\n  My name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\n  I'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\n  Mess wit me and get your manhood token\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (Redman)\n\n  I got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\n  You bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\n  I catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\n  And my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\n  Redman ready to rock ruff rhymes\n  Renegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\n  Punk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\n  Pack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\n  Fe fi fo fum funky to floor a\n  Fuck a freak, words before play\n  Quickly, quiet is kept, never quack\n  On a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\n  A monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\n  A madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\n  Bullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\n  Bread and butter, break beast to bam bam\n  Jump off the jim before I jack my johnson\n  I jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\n  Get a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\n  Can you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\n  Yes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\n  My afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\n  Known as I live large, life will be luxury\n  Ladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\n  Nasty nigga, competition is none\n  From newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\n  Shit, rap is still when I'm stroking\n  Smoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\n  Cool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\n  Cut like chuckie, plus style it top d\n  Super mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\n  Hold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\n  Chorus\n"},{"id":14089112,"name":"Hardcore (feat. EPMD)","trackName":"Hardcore (feat. EPMD)","artistName":"Redman","albumName":"Whut? Thee Album","duration":119.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(chorus)\nhardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n(pmd)\nWhen i turn a party out, all hands is in the air\nsome say it's chill, new york throw chairs\nthe punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\ngirls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\nlow to avoid the caps and blows\nby the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\nwit the cops trying to control the crowd\nbut they can't, systems crank \"so what'cha saying\"'s pumping loud\nblows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\nbrothers licking off like the son of sam and\nthe bass continues to thump\nsome brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\nhoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\nbrothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\nand on my way out, i heard a sucker scream and shout\n\"niggas, niggas\", yea, cold turn the party out\nChorus\n(e double)\nRap combat squares sat and i attack\nany crab mc that's down wit the wack\nand i wreck and if i can not snap a neck\nthrow a knock, i'll blow and look for a tech\ni'm terror, new edition to rap era\ni can't be beat, i'm too sweet plus clever\ni'm smart, yes, i'm a so called genius\ni'm equip wit the thinking cap they call?(keenison)?\nyo, wit that, i can break fool\nespecially when the posse is thick and got tools\nmake me feel good 'cause they got steel\nno blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\nk-a, microphone wrecker e-d\nthe o, the u, the b, the l to the e\nrocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\nmy name is erick sermon now want some and i'll flip\ni'm far from a chump, i'm harcore like brooklyn\nmess wit me and get your manhood token\nChorus\n(redman)\nI got it going on,?(sister muck)?, next to flex\nyou bet i drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\ni catch fits when i blitz a rhyme grit\nand my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\nredman ready to rock ruff rhymes\nrenegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\npunk push a pin in?(pilt)? so when i?(pit)?\npack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\nfe fi fo fum funky to floor a\nfuck a freak, words before play\nquickly, quiet is kept, never quack\non a q-tip, i quote, i throw rhymes like a quarterback\na monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\na madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\nbullets?(brobab)? brother back to back i slam\nbread and butter, break beast to bam bam\njump off the jim before i jack my johnson\ni jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\nget a stamp dummy, i'm digging a dungeon\ncan you dig that i dig deep to destroy dum dums\nyes, i yam what i yam when i jam, bro\nmy afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\nknown as i live large, life will be luxury\nladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\nnasty nigga, competition is none\nfrom newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\nshit, rap is still when i'm stroking\nsmoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\ncool it kiddo, i control from sea to sea\ncut like chuckie, plus style it top d\nsuper mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\nhold your breath, while i walk holding my jewels\nChorus","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.06] (chorus)\n[00:01.65] hardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n[00:13.91] (pmd)\n[00:16.27] When i turn a party out, all hands is in the air\n[00:18.22] some say it's chill, new york throw chairs\n[00:19.39] the punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\n[00:20.83] girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\n[00:21.92] low to avoid the caps and blows\n[00:22.87] by the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\n[00:23.79] wit the cops trying to control the crowd\n[00:25.30] but they can't, systems crank \"so what'cha saying\"'s pumping loud\n[00:27.31] blows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\n[00:28.92] brothers licking off like the son of sam and\n[00:31.92] the bass continues to thump\n[00:33.70] some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\n[00:35.39] hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\n[00:36.56] brothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\n[00:38.26] and on my way out, i heard a sucker scream and shout\n[00:39.85] \"niggas, niggas\", yea, cold turn the party out\n[00:41.61] Chorus\n[00:42.67] (e double)\n[00:43.31] Rap combat squares sat and i attack\n[00:44.52] any crab mc that's down wit the wack\n[00:45.84] and i wreck and if i can not snap a neck\n[00:46.84] throw a knock, i'll blow and look for a tech\n[00:47.81] i'm terror, new edition to rap era\n[00:48.65] i can't be beat, i'm too sweet plus clever\n[00:49.68] i'm smart, yes, i'm a so called genius\n[00:50.43] i'm equip wit the thinking cap they call?(keenison)?\n[00:51.26] yo, wit that, i can break fool\n[00:52.05] especially when the posse is thick and got tools\n[00:53.29] make me feel good 'cause they got steel\n[00:54.52] no blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\n[00:55.96] k-a, microphone wrecker e-d\n[00:57.37] the o, the u, the b, the l to the e\n[00:58.95] rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\n[01:00.26] my name is erick sermon now want some and i'll flip\n[01:02.10] i'm far from a chump, i'm harcore like brooklyn\n[01:03.77] mess wit me and get your manhood token\n[01:05.33] Chorus\n[01:06.20] (redman)\n[01:06.97] I got it going on,?(sister muck)?, next to flex\n[01:08.55] you bet i drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\n[01:11.32] i catch fits when i blitz a rhyme grit\n[01:12.60] and my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\n[01:13.55] redman ready to rock ruff rhymes\n[01:14.41] renegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\n[01:15.57] punk push a pin in?(pilt)? so when i?(pit)?\n[01:16.21] pack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\n[01:17.16] fe fi fo fum funky to floor a\n[01:18.08] fuck a freak, words before play\n[01:18.89] quickly, quiet is kept, never quack\n[01:19.58] on a q-tip, i quote, i throw rhymes like a quarterback\n[01:20.50] a monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\n[01:21.23] a madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\n[01:21.91] bullets?(brobab)? brother back to back i slam\n[01:22.61] bread and butter, break beast to bam bam\n[01:23.48] jump off the jim before i jack my johnson\n[01:24.10] i jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\n[01:24.85] get a stamp dummy, i'm digging a dungeon\n[01:25.45] can you dig that i dig deep to destroy dum dums\n[01:26.15] yes, i yam what i yam when i jam, bro\n[01:26.75] my afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\n[01:27.38] known as i live large, life will be luxury\n[01:27.82] ladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\n[01:28.52] nasty nigga, competition is none\n[01:29.13] from newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\n[01:29.88] shit, rap is still when i'm stroking\n[01:30.43] smoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\n[01:31.00] cool it kiddo, i control from sea to sea\n[01:31.62] cut like chuckie, plus style it top d\n[01:32.23] super mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\n[01:32.98] hold your breath, while i walk holding my jewels\n[01:33.87] Chorus\n[01:34.85] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Hardcore (feat. EPMD)\n  artist: Redman\n  album: Whut? Thee Album\n  duration_ms: 119000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (chorus)\n  start_ms: 1060\n  end_ms: 1650\n- text: hardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n  start_ms: 1650\n  end_ms: 13910\n- text: (pmd)\n  start_ms: 13910\n  end_ms: 16270\n- text: When i turn a party out, all hands is in the air\n  start_ms: 16270\n  end_ms: 18220\n- text: some say it's chill, new york throw chairs\n  start_ms: 18220\n  end_ms: 19390\n- text: the punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\n  start_ms: 19390\n  end_ms: 20830\n- text: girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\n  start_ms: 20830\n  end_ms: 21920\n- text: low to avoid the caps and blows\n  start_ms: 21920\n  end_ms: 22870\n- text: by the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\n  start_ms: 22870\n  end_ms: 23790\n- text: wit the cops trying to control the crowd\n  start_ms: 23790\n  end_ms: 25300\n- text: but they can't, systems crank \"so what'cha saying\"'s pumping loud\n  start_ms: 25300\n  end_ms: 27310\n- text: blows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\n  start_ms: 27310\n  end_ms: 28920\n- text: brothers licking off like the son of sam and\n  start_ms: 28920\n  end_ms: 31920\n- text: the bass continues to thump\n  start_ms: 31920\n  end_ms: 33700\n- text: some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\n  start_ms: 33700\n  end_ms: 35390\n- text: hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\n  start_ms: 35390\n  end_ms: 36560\n- text: brothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\n  start_ms: 36560\n  end_ms: 38260\n- text: and on my way out, i heard a sucker scream and shout\n  start_ms: 38260\n  end_ms: 39850\n- text: '\"niggas, niggas\", yea, cold turn the party out'\n  start_ms: 39850\n  end_ms: 41610\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 41610\n  end_ms: 42670\n- text: (e double)\n  start_ms: 42670\n  end_ms: 43310\n- text: Rap combat squares sat and i attack\n  start_ms: 43310\n  end_ms: 44520\n- text: any crab mc that's down wit the wack\n  start_ms: 44520\n  end_ms: 45840\n- text: and i wreck and if i can not snap a neck\n  start_ms: 45840\n  end_ms: 46840\n- text: throw a knock, i'll blow and look for a tech\n  start_ms: 46840\n  end_ms: 47810\n- text: i'm terror, new edition to rap era\n  start_ms: 47810\n  end_ms: 48650\n- text: i can't be beat, i'm too sweet plus clever\n  start_ms: 48650\n  end_ms: 49680\n- text: i'm smart, yes, i'm a so called genius\n  start_ms: 49680\n  end_ms: 50430\n- text: i'm equip wit the thinking cap they call?(keenison)?\n  start_ms: 50430\n  end_ms: 51260\n- text: yo, wit that, i can break fool\n  start_ms: 51260\n  end_ms: 52050\n- text: especially when the posse is thick and got tools\n  start_ms: 52050\n  end_ms: 53290\n- text: make me feel good 'cause they got steel\n  start_ms: 53290\n  end_ms: 54520\n- text: no blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\n  start_ms: 54520\n  end_ms: 55960\n- text: k-a, microphone wrecker e-d\n  start_ms: 55960\n  end_ms: 57370\n- text: the o, the u, the b, the l to the e\n  start_ms: 57370\n  end_ms: 58950\n- text: rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\n  start_ms: 58950\n  end_ms: 60260\n- text: my name is erick sermon now want some and i'll flip\n  start_ms: 60260\n  end_ms: 62100\n- text: i'm far from a chump, i'm harcore like brooklyn\n  start_ms: 62100\n  end_ms: 63770\n- text: mess wit me and get your manhood token\n  start_ms: 63770\n  end_ms: 65330\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 65330\n  end_ms: 66200\n- text: (redman)\n  start_ms: 66200\n  end_ms: 66970\n- text: I got it going on,?(sister muck)?, next to flex\n  start_ms: 66970\n  end_ms: 68550\n- text: you bet i drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\n  start_ms: 68550\n  end_ms: 71320\n- text: i catch fits when i blitz a rhyme grit\n  start_ms: 71320\n  end_ms: 72600\n- text: and my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\n  start_ms: 72600\n  end_ms: 73550\n- text: redman ready to rock ruff rhymes\n  start_ms: 73550\n  end_ms: 74410\n- text: renegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\n  start_ms: 74410\n  end_ms: 75570\n- text: punk push a pin in?(pilt)? so when i?(pit)?\n  start_ms: 75570\n  end_ms: 76210\n- text: pack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\n  start_ms: 76210\n  end_ms: 77160\n- text: fe fi fo fum funky to floor a\n  start_ms: 77160\n  end_ms: 78080\n- text: fuck a freak, words before play\n  start_ms: 78080\n  end_ms: 78890\n- text: quickly, quiet is kept, never quack\n  start_ms: 78890\n  end_ms: 79580\n- text: on a q-tip, i quote, i throw rhymes like a quarterback\n  start_ms: 79580\n  end_ms: 80500\n- text: a monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\n  start_ms: 80500\n  end_ms: 81230\n- text: a madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\n  start_ms: 81230\n  end_ms: 81910\n- text: bullets?(brobab)? brother back to back i slam\n  start_ms: 81910\n  end_ms: 82610\n- text: bread and butter, break beast to bam bam\n  start_ms: 82610\n  end_ms: 83480\n- text: jump off the jim before i jack my johnson\n  start_ms: 83480\n  end_ms: 84100\n- text: i jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\n  start_ms: 84100\n  end_ms: 84850\n- text: get a stamp dummy, i'm digging a dungeon\n  start_ms: 84850\n  end_ms: 85450\n- text: can you dig that i dig deep to destroy dum dums\n  start_ms: 85450\n  end_ms: 86150\n- text: yes, i yam what i yam when i jam, bro\n  start_ms: 86150\n  end_ms: 86750\n- text: my afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\n  start_ms: 86750\n  end_ms: 87380\n- text: known as i live large, life will be luxury\n  start_ms: 87380\n  end_ms: 87820\n- text: ladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\n  start_ms: 87820\n  end_ms: 88520\n- text: nasty nigga, competition is none\n  start_ms: 88520\n  end_ms: 89130\n- text: from newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\n  start_ms: 89130\n  end_ms: 89880\n- text: shit, rap is still when i'm stroking\n  start_ms: 89880\n  end_ms: 90430\n- text: smoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\n  start_ms: 90430\n  end_ms: 91000\n- text: cool it kiddo, i control from sea to sea\n  start_ms: 91000\n  end_ms: 91620\n- text: cut like chuckie, plus style it top d\n  start_ms: 91620\n  end_ms: 92230\n- text: super mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\n  start_ms: 92230\n  end_ms: 92980\n- text: hold your breath, while i walk holding my jewels\n  start_ms: 92980\n  end_ms: 93870\n- text: Chorus\n  start_ms: 93870\n  end_ms: 94850\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 94850\nplain: |-\n  (chorus)\n  hardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n  (pmd)\n  When i turn a party out, all hands is in the air\n  some say it's chill, new york throw chairs\n  the punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\n  girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\n  low to avoid the caps and blows\n  by the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\n  wit the cops trying to control the crowd\n  but they can't, systems crank \"so what'cha saying\"'s pumping loud\n  blows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\n  brothers licking off like the son of sam and\n  the bass continues to thump\n  some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\n  hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\n  brothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\n  and on my way out, i heard a sucker scream and shout\n  \"niggas, niggas\", yea, cold turn the party out\n  Chorus\n  (e double)\n  Rap combat squares sat and i attack\n  any crab mc that's down wit the wack\n  and i wreck and if i can not snap a neck\n  throw a knock, i'll blow and look for a tech\n  i'm terror, new edition to rap era\n  i can't be beat, i'm too sweet plus clever\n  i'm smart, yes, i'm a so called genius\n  i'm equip wit the thinking cap they call?(keenison)?\n  yo, wit that, i can break fool\n  especially when the posse is thick and got tools\n  make me feel good 'cause they got steel\n  no blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\n  k-a, microphone wrecker e-d\n  the o, the u, the b, the l to the e\n  rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\n  my name is erick sermon now want some and i'll flip\n  i'm far from a chump, i'm harcore like brooklyn\n  mess wit me and get your manhood token\n  Chorus\n  (redman)\n  I got it going on,?(sister muck)?, next to flex\n  you bet i drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\n  i catch fits when i blitz a rhyme grit\n  and my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\n  redman ready to rock ruff rhymes\n  renegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\n  punk push a pin in?(pilt)? so when i?(pit)?\n  pack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\n  fe fi fo fum funky to floor a\n  fuck a freak, words before play\n  quickly, quiet is kept, never quack\n  on a q-tip, i quote, i throw rhymes like a quarterback\n  a monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\n  a madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\n  bullets?(brobab)? brother back to back i slam\n  bread and butter, break beast to bam bam\n  jump off the jim before i jack my johnson\n  i jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\n  get a stamp dummy, i'm digging a dungeon\n  can you dig that i dig deep to destroy dum dums\n  yes, i yam what i yam when i jam, bro\n  my afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\n  known as i live large, life will be luxury\n  ladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\n  nasty nigga, competition is none\n  from newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\n  shit, rap is still when i'm stroking\n  smoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\n  cool it kiddo, i control from sea to sea\n  cut like chuckie, plus style it top d\n  super mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\n  hold your breath, while i walk holding my jewels\n  Chorus\n"},{"id":18356965,"name":"Hardcore (Feat. Redman)","trackName":"Hardcore (Feat. Redman)","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Business As Usual","duration":271.533333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(chorus)\nHardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n(pmd)\n\nWhen I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\nSome say it's chill, new york throw chairs\nThe punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\nGirls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\nLow to avoid the caps and blows\nBy the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\nWit the cops trying to control the crowd\nBut they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\nBlows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\nBrothers licking off like the son of sam and\nThe bass continues to thump\nSome brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\nHoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\nBrothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\nAnd on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\nNiggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\nChorus\n\n(e double)\n\nRap combat squares sat and I attack\nAny crab mc that's down wit the wack\nAnd I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\nThrow a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\nI'm terror, new edition to rap era\nI can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\nI'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\nI'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\nYo, wit that, I can break fool\nEspecially when the posse is thick and got tools\nMake me feel good 'cause they got steel\nNo blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\nK-a, microphone wrecker e-d\nThe o, the u, the b, the l to the e\nRocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\nMy name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\nI'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\nMess wit me and get your manhood token\n\nChorus\n\n(redman)\n\nI got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\nYou bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\nI catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\nAnd my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\nRedman ready to rock ruff rhymes\nRenegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\nPunk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\nPack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\nFe fi fo fum funky to floor a\nFuck a freak, words before play\nQuickly, quiet is kept, never quack\nOn a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\nA monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\nA madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\nBullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\nBread and butter, break beast to bam bam\nJump off the jim before I jack my johnson\nI jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\nGet a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\nCan you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\nYes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\nMy afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\nKnown as I live large, life will be luxury\nLadies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\nNasty nigga, competition is none\nFrom newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\nShit, rap is still when I'm stroking\nSmoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\nCool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\nCut like chuckie, plus style it top d\nSuper mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\nHold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\nChorus","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Hardcore (Feat. Redman)\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Business As Usual\n  duration_ms: 271533\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (chorus)\n  Hardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n  (pmd)\n\n  When I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\n  Some say it's chill, new york throw chairs\n  The punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\n  Girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\n  Low to avoid the caps and blows\n  By the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\n  Wit the cops trying to control the crowd\n  But they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\n  Blows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\n  Brothers licking off like the son of sam and\n  The bass continues to thump\n  Some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\n  Hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\n  Brothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\n  And on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\n  Niggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (e double)\n\n  Rap combat squares sat and I attack\n  Any crab mc that's down wit the wack\n  And I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\n  Throw a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\n  I'm terror, new edition to rap era\n  I can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\n  I'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\n  I'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\n  Yo, wit that, I can break fool\n  Especially when the posse is thick and got tools\n  Make me feel good 'cause they got steel\n  No blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\n  K-a, microphone wrecker e-d\n  The o, the u, the b, the l to the e\n  Rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\n  My name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\n  I'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\n  Mess wit me and get your manhood token\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (redman)\n\n  I got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\n  You bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\n  I catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\n  And my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\n  Redman ready to rock ruff rhymes\n  Renegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\n  Punk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\n  Pack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\n  Fe fi fo fum funky to floor a\n  Fuck a freak, words before play\n  Quickly, quiet is kept, never quack\n  On a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\n  A monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\n  A madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\n  Bullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\n  Bread and butter, break beast to bam bam\n  Jump off the jim before I jack my johnson\n  I jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\n  Get a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\n  Can you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\n  Yes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\n  My afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\n  Known as I live large, life will be luxury\n  Ladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\n  Nasty nigga, competition is none\n  From newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\n  Shit, rap is still when I'm stroking\n  Smoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\n  Cool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\n  Cut like chuckie, plus style it top d\n  Super mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\n  Hold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\n  Chorus\n"},{"id":21618358,"name":"Hardcore (feat. Redman)","trackName":"Hardcore (feat. Redman)","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Business As Usual","duration":269.374694,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(chorus)\nHardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n(pmd)\n\nWhen I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\nSome say it's chill, new york throw chairs\nThe punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\nGirls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\nLow to avoid the caps and blows\nBy the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\nWit the cops trying to control the crowd\nBut they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\nBlows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\nBrothers licking off like the son of sam and\nThe bass continues to thump\nSome brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\nHoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\nBrothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\nAnd on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\nNiggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\nChorus\n\n(e double)\n\nRap combat squares sat and I attack\nAny crab mc that's down wit the wack\nAnd I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\nThrow a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\nI'm terror, new edition to rap era\nI can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\nI'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\nI'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\nYo, wit that, I can break fool\nEspecially when the posse is thick and got tools\nMake me feel good 'cause they got steel\nNo blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\nK-a, microphone wrecker e-d\nThe o, the u, the b, the l to the e\nRocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\nMy name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\nI'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\nMess wit me and get your manhood token\n\nChorus\n\n(redman)\n\nI got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\nYou bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\nI catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\nAnd my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\nRedman ready to rock ruff rhymes\nRenegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\nPunk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\nPack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\nFe fi fo fum funky to floor a\nFuck a freak, words before play\nQuickly, quiet is kept, never quack\nOn a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\nA monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\nA madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\nBullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\nBread and butter, break beast to bam bam\nJump off the jim before I jack my johnson\nI jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\nGet a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\nCan you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\nYes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\nMy afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\nKnown as I live large, life will be luxury\nLadies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\nNasty nigga, competition is none\nFrom newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\nShit, rap is still when I'm stroking\nSmoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\nCool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\nCut like chuckie, plus style it top d\nSuper mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\nHold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\nChorus","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Hardcore (feat. Redman)\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Business As Usual\n  duration_ms: 269375\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (chorus)\n  Hardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n  (pmd)\n\n  When I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\n  Some say it's chill, new york throw chairs\n  The punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\n  Girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\n  Low to avoid the caps and blows\n  By the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\n  Wit the cops trying to control the crowd\n  But they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\n  Blows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\n  Brothers licking off like the son of sam and\n  The bass continues to thump\n  Some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\n  Hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\n  Brothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\n  And on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\n  Niggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (e double)\n\n  Rap combat squares sat and I attack\n  Any crab mc that's down wit the wack\n  And I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\n  Throw a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\n  I'm terror, new edition to rap era\n  I can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\n  I'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\n  I'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\n  Yo, wit that, I can break fool\n  Especially when the posse is thick and got tools\n  Make me feel good 'cause they got steel\n  No blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\n  K-a, microphone wrecker e-d\n  The o, the u, the b, the l to the e\n  Rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\n  My name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\n  I'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\n  Mess wit me and get your manhood token\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (redman)\n\n  I got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\n  You bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\n  I catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\n  And my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\n  Redman ready to rock ruff rhymes\n  Renegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\n  Punk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\n  Pack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\n  Fe fi fo fum funky to floor a\n  Fuck a freak, words before play\n  Quickly, quiet is kept, never quack\n  On a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\n  A monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\n  A madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\n  Bullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\n  Bread and butter, break beast to bam bam\n  Jump off the jim before I jack my johnson\n  I jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\n  Get a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\n  Can you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\n  Yes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\n  My afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\n  Known as I live large, life will be luxury\n  Ladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\n  Nasty nigga, competition is none\n  From newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\n  Shit, rap is still when I'm stroking\n  Smoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\n  Cool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\n  Cut like chuckie, plus style it top d\n  Super mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\n  Hold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\n  Chorus\n"},{"id":28562045,"name":"Hardcore-A-DUBB","trackName":"Hardcore-A-DUBB","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"The_Business_Reloaded-A-DUBB-2006","duration":273.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(chorus)\nHardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n(pmd)\n\nWhen I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\nSome say it's chill, new york throw chairs\nThe punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\nGirls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\nLow to avoid the caps and blows\nBy the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\nWit the cops trying to control the crowd\nBut they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\nBlows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\nBrothers licking off like the son of sam and\nThe bass continues to thump\nSome brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\nHoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\nBrothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\nAnd on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\nNiggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\nChorus\n\n(e double)\n\nRap combat squares sat and I attack\nAny crab mc that's down wit the wack\nAnd I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\nThrow a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\nI'm terror, new edition to rap era\nI can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\nI'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\nI'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\nYo, wit that, I can break fool\nEspecially when the posse is thick and got tools\nMake me feel good 'cause they got steel\nNo blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\nK-a, microphone wrecker e-d\nThe o, the u, the b, the l to the e\nRocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\nMy name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\nI'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\nMess wit me and get your manhood token\n\nChorus\n\n(redman)\n\nI got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\nYou bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\nI catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\nAnd my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\nRedman ready to rock ruff rhymes\nRenegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\nPunk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\nPack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\nFe fi fo fum funky to floor a\nFuck a freak, words before play\nQuickly, quiet is kept, never quack\nOn a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\nA monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\nA madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\nBullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\nBread and butter, break beast to bam bam\nJump off the jim before I jack my johnson\nI jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\nGet a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\nCan you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\nYes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\nMy afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\nKnown as I live large, life will be luxury\nLadies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\nNasty nigga, competition is none\nFrom newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\nShit, rap is still when I'm stroking\nSmoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\nCool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\nCut like chuckie, plus style it top d\nSuper mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\nHold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\nChorus","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Hardcore-A-DUBB\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: The_Business_Reloaded-A-DUBB-2006\n  duration_ms: 273000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (chorus)\n  Hardcore to make the brothers act fools (4x)\n\n  (pmd)\n\n  When I turn a party out, all hands is in the air\n  Some say it's chill, new york throw chairs\n  The punk funk sound to make a sane man flip\n  Girls rush the stage, faggots cold dip\n  Low to avoid the caps and blows\n  By the gangbanners at the b-boy shows\n  Wit the cops trying to control the crowd\n  But they can't, systems crank so what'cha saying's pumping loud\n  Blows are thrown, heads are flown like pan am\n  Brothers licking off like the son of sam and\n  The bass continues to thump\n  Some brothers hit the parking lot to go pop trunks\n  Hoes are slapped, jewels are snatched\n  Brothers are caught in the cross fire without no caps\n  And on my way out, I heard a sucker scream and shout\n  Niggas, niggas, yea, cold turn the party out\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (e double)\n\n  Rap combat squares sat and I attack\n  Any crab mc that's down wit the wack\n  And I wreck and if I can not snap a neck\n  Throw a knock, I'll blow and look for a tech\n  I'm terror, new edition to rap era\n  I can't be beat, I'm too sweet plus clever\n  I'm smart, yes, I'm a so called genius\n  I'm equip wit the thinking cap they call? (keenison)?\n  Yo, wit that, I can break fool\n  Especially when the posse is thick and got tools\n  Make me feel good 'cause they got steel\n  No blasters or cap guns son, the real deal\n  K-a, microphone wrecker e-d\n  The o, the u, the b, the l to the e\n  Rocking on, word is born, so abandon ship\n  My name is erick sermon now want some and I'll flip\n  I'm far from a chump, I'm harcore like brooklyn\n  Mess wit me and get your manhood token\n\n  Chorus\n\n  (redman)\n\n  I got it going on,? (sister muck)?, next to flex\n  You bet I drop heavy, so girls grab your coatex\n  I catch fits when I blitz a rhyme grit\n  And my lip gets to the point so rip some more fly shit\n  Redman ready to rock ruff rhymes\n  Renegade rapper, rip when it's rhyme time\n  Punk push a pin in? (pilt)? so when I? (pit)?\n  Pack pistol posse flow some more pro shit\n  Fe fi fo fum funky to floor a\n  Fuck a freak, words before play\n  Quickly, quiet is kept, never quack\n  On a q-tip, I quote, I throw rhymes like a quarterback\n  A monster, murder muthafuckas like manson\n  A madmen who mutilize men with 9mm\n  Bullets? (brobab)? brother back to back I slam\n  Bread and butter, break beast to bam bam\n  Jump off the jim before I jack my johnson\n  I jam like janet, chew mc's like swanson\n  Get a stamp dummy, I'm digging a dungeon\n  Can you dig that I dig deep to destroy dum dums\n  Yes, I yam what I yam when I jam, bro\n  My afro's in the house, yo, yo, yo\n  Known as I live large, life will be luxury\n  Ladies in lamborginies, love is like (lut) to me\n  Nasty nigga, competition is none\n  From newark, new jersey, knot hairs like mike nunn\n  Shit, rap is still when I'm stroking\n  Smoke wit shotguns but the sign said no smoking\n  Cool it kiddo, I control from sea to sea\n  Cut like chuckie, plus style it top d\n  Super mad lover, cool from the new schoo;\n  Hold your breath, while I walk holding my jewels\n\n  Chorus\n"},{"id":25753187,"name":"Gold Digger","trackName":"Gold Digger","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Def Jam's Greatest Hits: Hardcore","duration":305.458503,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Verse one: erick sermon\n\nOh what the heck, let's get married and have a son named erick\nNo big deal, no sweat\nHmmm, I was in for a big surprise\nAnd when I saw the judge hammer pass my green eyes\nBrainlocked, my whole damn head was malfunctional\nCause I forgot to co-sign a prenuptial, agreement\nNow her case is hard like cement\nI have no files on all the money she spent\nShe has a car, nineteen ninety brand new jaguar\nFly kit, with chrome rims that's five star\nThat she bought, when I was away on tour\nHittin' my bank account, gettin more and more money\nShe got paid, it wasn't funny\nTalkin to myself - oh you big big dummy\nJust my luck, that I'm stuck with a marriage\nAnd a baby, who lays in a gold carriage\nNow I can't leave, if I do she gets half (not the cash)\nOh yes, the whole damn bash of money\nSo I chill, and act so sweet\nKiss her feet, can't picture bein in the street\nSo I give a fake smile, and a fake laugh\nFake everything so I can keep all my cash\nFake talk, like I love you so much\nBut wishin, she gets hit by a mack truck\nNext time, if there's one I'll know\nThat most women strictly out for the dough\nThey're called gold diggers\n\nCause she's a gold digger (3x)\n\nVerse two: parrish smith\n\nThe p had a close call, quiet as kept I dated this\nFlyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy girl\nYeah, and almost got vicked\nShe had green eyes, thunder thighs, and a def body (so what cha sayin)\nTop it off, she drove a black maserati\nChrome kit, with a smile I couldn't resist\nI tapped e on the shoulder and said, yeah I gots to get this\n(P cool, she could be a gold digger)\nNot with that smile and that stupid boomin figure\nTil one day, she spent the crazy dough\nTen g's on levi's, cold went rambo\nBut then she smiled, gave me a back massage\nGassed my head up, and said (oh p you're so large)\nLike a jerk, I went for the line like a fish\nBut she was far from dream girl, and more like a death wish\nShe likes to sit back, lamp, walk on plush rugs\nWhip my five-sixty sip moet and bug (so did you flip?)\nTried to but she cut me off\nAnd said, guess what? (what) I'm pregnant (pregnant? damn)\nYeah and the child is yours\nSo to fellas, who wanna keep they cash\nOr beware of the jack hammer and the helmet that glows\nCause she's a gold digger\n\nCause she's a gold digger (3x)\n\nVerse three: erick sermon, parrish smith\n\n[E] that's why, men in the 90's must watch themselves\n[P] cause ladies of the 80's got hip and went for self\nWith the new divorce laws, which entitles them half\n[E] that means the house goes\n[P] the car\n[E] you and half your cash\n[P] what a price to pay, but if you play you pay\nCause women of the world they got smart today\nThey flash a smile and profile\n[E] a pucker with a strut\n[P] try to move in\n[E] knock the boots\n[P] and got stuck, with alimony payments\n[E] time to meet judge wapner\n[P] you try to flip and cut, but she smiles 'cause she gotcha\nYou get a flashback to wedding, when you vowed the vow\nSaid the two deadly words\n[E] I do\n[P] but look now, you lost the house\n[E] the car\n[P] eatin tv dinners in a one bedroom apartment\n[E] boy you picked a winner\n[P] but what goes around, comes around\n[E] that's why she wheels the benz\n[P] and you ride greyhound\nOh, just your luck, they on strike\nTake off the wedding band, put out the thumb, time to hitch-hike\nAnd the more you walk the pain from your corns get bigger\n(Now you know)\nNot to mess with a gold digger\n\nCause she's a gold digger (repeat 3x)\n\n[P] yeah epmd's in effect, dj scratch runs flex boy\nHit squad in effect in the house\n\n[E] large!\nYeah, she get half","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Gold Digger\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: 'Def Jam''s Greatest Hits: Hardcore'\n  duration_ms: 305459\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Verse one: erick sermon\n\n  Oh what the heck, let's get married and have a son named erick\n  No big deal, no sweat\n  Hmmm, I was in for a big surprise\n  And when I saw the judge hammer pass my green eyes\n  Brainlocked, my whole damn head was malfunctional\n  Cause I forgot to co-sign a prenuptial, agreement\n  Now her case is hard like cement\n  I have no files on all the money she spent\n  She has a car, nineteen ninety brand new jaguar\n  Fly kit, with chrome rims that's five star\n  That she bought, when I was away on tour\n  Hittin' my bank account, gettin more and more money\n  She got paid, it wasn't funny\n  Talkin to myself - oh you big big dummy\n  Just my luck, that I'm stuck with a marriage\n  And a baby, who lays in a gold carriage\n  Now I can't leave, if I do she gets half (not the cash)\n  Oh yes, the whole damn bash of money\n  So I chill, and act so sweet\n  Kiss her feet, can't picture bein in the street\n  So I give a fake smile, and a fake laugh\n  Fake everything so I can keep all my cash\n  Fake talk, like I love you so much\n  But wishin, she gets hit by a mack truck\n  Next time, if there's one I'll know\n  That most women strictly out for the dough\n  They're called gold diggers\n\n  Cause she's a gold digger (3x)\n\n  Verse two: parrish smith\n\n  The p had a close call, quiet as kept I dated this\n  Flyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy girl\n  Yeah, and almost got vicked\n  She had green eyes, thunder thighs, and a def body (so what cha sayin)\n  Top it off, she drove a black maserati\n  Chrome kit, with a smile I couldn't resist\n  I tapped e on the shoulder and said, yeah I gots to get this\n  (P cool, she could be a gold digger)\n  Not with that smile and that stupid boomin figure\n  Til one day, she spent the crazy dough\n  Ten g's on levi's, cold went rambo\n  But then she smiled, gave me a back massage\n  Gassed my head up, and said (oh p you're so large)\n  Like a jerk, I went for the line like a fish\n  But she was far from dream girl, and more like a death wish\n  She likes to sit back, lamp, walk on plush rugs\n  Whip my five-sixty sip moet and bug (so did you flip?)\n  Tried to but she cut me off\n  And said, guess what? (what) I'm pregnant (pregnant? damn)\n  Yeah and the child is yours\n  So to fellas, who wanna keep they cash\n  Or beware of the jack hammer and the helmet that glows\n  Cause she's a gold digger\n\n  Cause she's a gold digger (3x)\n\n  Verse three: erick sermon, parrish smith\n\n  [E] that's why, men in the 90's must watch themselves\n  [P] cause ladies of the 80's got hip and went for self\n  With the new divorce laws, which entitles them half\n  [E] that means the house goes\n  [P] the car\n  [E] you and half your cash\n  [P] what a price to pay, but if you play you pay\n  Cause women of the world they got smart today\n  They flash a smile and profile\n  [E] a pucker with a strut\n  [P] try to move in\n  [E] knock the boots\n  [P] and got stuck, with alimony payments\n  [E] time to meet judge wapner\n  [P] you try to flip and cut, but she smiles 'cause she gotcha\n  You get a flashback to wedding, when you vowed the vow\n  Said the two deadly words\n  [E] I do\n  [P] but look now, you lost the house\n  [E] the car\n  [P] eatin tv dinners in a one bedroom apartment\n  [E] boy you picked a winner\n  [P] but what goes around, comes around\n  [E] that's why she wheels the benz\n  [P] and you ride greyhound\n  Oh, just your luck, they on strike\n  Take off the wedding band, put out the thumb, time to hitch-hike\n  And the more you walk the pain from your corns get bigger\n  (Now you know)\n  Not to mess with a gold digger\n\n  Cause she's a gold digger (repeat 3x)\n\n  [P] yeah epmd's in effect, dj scratch runs flex boy\n  Hit squad in effect in the house\n\n  [E] large!\n  Yeah, she get half\n"}]