[{"id":14683788,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Rampage","duration":231.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Rampage\n  duration_ms: 231000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":14683739,"name":"Rampage (remix radio edit)","trackName":"Rampage (remix radio edit)","artistName":"EPMD feat. LL Cool J","albumName":"Rampage","duration":229.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.98] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:11.77] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:36.82] You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n[00:39.03] Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n[00:41.12] You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n[00:43.31] You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n[00:45.59] So many often wonder if mds paid\n[00:47.41] You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n[00:49.73] 'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n[00:51.87] And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n[00:54.15] So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n[00:56.32] A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n[00:58.52] My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n[01:00.68] Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n[01:02.39] 'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n[01:04.50] Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n[01:07.03] That's spanish terminology for friend\n[01:09.46] Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n[01:11.46] Bass funk with beats that thump\n[01:13.49] Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n[01:15.62] My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n[01:17.89] Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n[01:19.78] Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n[01:22.26] 'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n[01:24.43] I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n[01:26.83] I like to write but then again some bite\n[01:28.84] While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n[01:31.07] Yeah slow down baby\n[01:40.05] The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n[01:41.99] Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n[01:44.18] I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n[01:46.43] Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n[01:48.36] You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n[01:50.20] Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n[01:52.47] Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n[01:54.08] So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n[01:57.21] Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n[01:59.57] I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n[02:01.70] Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n[02:03.85] You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n[02:06.04] No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n[02:08.15] You and your squad better praise the real god\n[02:10.27] The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n[02:12.37] When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n[02:14.44] So lay the mike down slow and careful\n[02:16.37] 'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n[02:18.77] A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n[02:21.19] Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n[02:23.14] Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n[02:25.43] I'm down so that you clowns will know\n[02:27.08] Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n[02:29.56] I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n[02:32.02] Yeah slow down baby\n[02:41.07] When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n[02:43.02] I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n[02:45.26] When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n[02:47.40] Rap sees danger, can't roam\n[02:49.07] Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n[02:51.33] A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n[02:53.96] My microphone is filled with premium\n[02:55.86] Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n[02:58.21] Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n[03:00.19] When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n[03:02.83] Underneath fatigue at my peak\n[03:04.62] You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n[03:06.77] New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n[03:10.02] Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n[03:11.73] Yeah slow down baby\n[03:14.54] Slow down baby\n[03:21.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage (remix radio edit)\n  artist: EPMD feat. LL Cool J\n  album: Rampage\n  duration_ms: 229000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 9980\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 36820\n- text: You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  start_ms: 36820\n  end_ms: 39030\n- text: Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  start_ms: 39030\n  end_ms: 41120\n- text: You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  start_ms: 41120\n  end_ms: 43310\n- text: You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  start_ms: 43310\n  end_ms: 45590\n- text: So many often wonder if mds paid\n  start_ms: 45590\n  end_ms: 47410\n- text: You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  start_ms: 47410\n  end_ms: 49730\n- text: '''cause I clock gs while you clock zs'\n  start_ms: 49730\n  end_ms: 51870\n- text: And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  start_ms: 51870\n  end_ms: 54150\n- text: So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  start_ms: 54150\n  end_ms: 56320\n- text: A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  start_ms: 56320\n  end_ms: 58520\n- text: My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  start_ms: 58520\n  end_ms: 60680\n- text: Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  start_ms: 60680\n  end_ms: 62390\n- text: '''cause I clock pesos, don''t sell ileyo'\n  start_ms: 62390\n  end_ms: 64500\n- text: Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  start_ms: 64500\n  end_ms: 67030\n- text: That's spanish terminology for friend\n  start_ms: 67030\n  end_ms: 69460\n- text: Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  start_ms: 69460\n  end_ms: 71460\n- text: Bass funk with beats that thump\n  start_ms: 71460\n  end_ms: 73490\n- text: Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  start_ms: 73490\n  end_ms: 75620\n- text: My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  start_ms: 75620\n  end_ms: 77890\n- text: Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  start_ms: 77890\n  end_ms: 79780\n- text: Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  start_ms: 79780\n  end_ms: 82260\n- text: '''cause I''m the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice'\n  start_ms: 82260\n  end_ms: 84430\n- text: I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  start_ms: 84430\n  end_ms: 86830\n- text: I like to write but then again some bite\n  start_ms: 86830\n  end_ms: 88840\n- text: While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n  start_ms: 88840\n  end_ms: 91070\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 91070\n  end_ms: 100050\n- text: The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  start_ms: 100050\n  end_ms: 101990\n- text: Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  start_ms: 101990\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 108360\n- text: You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  start_ms: 108360\n  end_ms: 110200\n- text: Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  start_ms: 110200\n  end_ms: 112470\n- text: Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  start_ms: 112470\n  end_ms: 114080\n- text: So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  start_ms: 114080\n  end_ms: 117210\n- text: Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  start_ms: 117210\n  end_ms: 119570\n- text: I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  start_ms: 119570\n  end_ms: 121700\n- text: Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  start_ms: 121700\n  end_ms: 123850\n- text: You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  start_ms: 123850\n  end_ms: 126040\n- text: No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  start_ms: 126040\n  end_ms: 128150\n- text: You and your squad better praise the real god\n  start_ms: 128150\n  end_ms: 130270\n- text: The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  start_ms: 130270\n  end_ms: 132370\n- text: When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  start_ms: 132370\n  end_ms: 134440\n- text: So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  start_ms: 134440\n  end_ms: 136370\n- text: '''cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful'\n  start_ms: 136370\n  end_ms: 138770\n- text: A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  start_ms: 138770\n  end_ms: 141190\n- text: Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  start_ms: 141190\n  end_ms: 143140\n- text: Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  start_ms: 143140\n  end_ms: 145430\n- text: I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  start_ms: 145430\n  end_ms: 147080\n- text: Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  start_ms: 147080\n  end_ms: 149560\n- text: I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n  start_ms: 149560\n  end_ms: 152020\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 152020\n  end_ms: 161070\n- text: When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  start_ms: 161070\n  end_ms: 163020\n- text: I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  start_ms: 163020\n  end_ms: 165260\n- text: When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  start_ms: 165260\n  end_ms: 167400\n- text: Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  start_ms: 167400\n  end_ms: 169070\n- text: Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  start_ms: 169070\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173960\n- text: My microphone is filled with premium\n  start_ms: 173960\n  end_ms: 175860\n- text: Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  start_ms: 175860\n  end_ms: 178210\n- text: Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  start_ms: 178210\n  end_ms: 180190\n- text: When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  start_ms: 180190\n  end_ms: 182830\n- text: Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  start_ms: 182830\n  end_ms: 184620\n- text: You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  start_ms: 184620\n  end_ms: 186770\n- text: New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  start_ms: 186770\n  end_ms: 190020\n- text: Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n  start_ms: 190020\n  end_ms: 191730\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 191730\n  end_ms: 194540\n- text: Slow down baby\n  start_ms: 194540\n  end_ms: 201230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201230\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":30018569,"name":"I'm Mad (Red Man mix)","trackName":"I'm Mad (Red Man mix)","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Rampage","duration":224.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Erick Sermon:\nIt's the E, and I'm smokin'. Wild like Tone Loc, I'm roastin, bakin' MCs,\nthe E I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, slack up.\nWatch your weak posse, before they get smacked up.\nOne by ONE, two by TWO, three by THREE, Yo P...\n(Parrish: What's Up, E.D.?)\nPass the Uzi, to blow up, any wack MC that show up,\nthere goes one, blast 'im now.\n(E, hold up.)\n*Don't make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape,\nand buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and I'm-a catch a bullshit charge,\nplus trial.\nIt's my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck MC that can't hang.\nDon't forget, I'm crazy swift. My name is Erick Sermon\n(yeah, and I'm Parrish Smith)\nI could act foolish, start blastin'. Ha ha ha ha, now who's laughin'?\nI'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, next time you see me...\n(...holler like ya know me!)\nI'm mad...\n\nRefrain:\n(Here's a little story, I've gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x\n\nParrish:\nMy life story I tell straight from the heart.\nWhen suckers tried to crash my shit straight from start.\nA young black kid destined for success, no Old Gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess.\nStraight up hard work. No sleep and no shorts.\nBrainstormin' with the skills that Pop Duke taught.\nTo keep swingin', yeah, and not to quit.\nNow I ride the Benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends,\nstraight up pussy from Punk City, my attitude's fucked up and real shitty.\nFrom the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends,\nwho swim in my pool. When it's time, flex the Benz,\naround town, windows down at the South Town, Cool J tape or K-Solo \"Spellbound\"\nWith fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin'\nOld Gold, Red Bull, hands on my dick and\nI'm just lampin' with my EK shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid.\nBut of course not, brother can't get his props\nlike for instance, when I cruise up the block\nin my 560 lampin' on my Metro phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome.\nBut like a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way\nThat's how I knew you're on my dick kid, but it's okay.\nIt's normal, relax, your whole head's busted.\nCaught in the rap skit, ya couldn't be trusted.\nCuz my sounds pound from here to Okinowi...{kiss} peace and I'm ouuuutie!\n\nRefrain\n\nErick:\nStay tuned to this last episode, when I rock the house and the mic explodes.\nThis is not the buckwild style that I be usin', in fact black,\nit causes {mass confusion}\nIt's a fallout, when sucker MCs and crowds call out my name,\noh what a shame I got {fame!}\nParrish:\nI'm not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact,\nI'm like Clint Eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes I pack\nin my flow gun, so son, ya better run,\ncuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none.\nWe move wax like kilos ...{scratch}\nand when my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode.\nWatch the right hook, duck the death blow jack,\nI wonder where the E and the P's at...\n(Can they do it again?) You bet your ass, black.\n(See you in '91) Until things get the bozack... (I'm mad...)\n\nRefrain","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: I'm Mad (Red Man mix)\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Rampage\n  duration_ms: 224000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Erick Sermon:\n  It's the E, and I'm smokin'. Wild like Tone Loc, I'm roastin, bakin' MCs,\n  the E I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, slack up.\n  Watch your weak posse, before they get smacked up.\n  One by ONE, two by TWO, three by THREE, Yo P...\n  (Parrish: What's Up, E.D.?)\n  Pass the Uzi, to blow up, any wack MC that show up,\n  there goes one, blast 'im now.\n  (E, hold up.)\n  *Don't make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape,\n  and buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and I'm-a catch a bullshit charge,\n  plus trial.\n  It's my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck MC that can't hang.\n  Don't forget, I'm crazy swift. My name is Erick Sermon\n  (yeah, and I'm Parrish Smith)\n  I could act foolish, start blastin'. Ha ha ha ha, now who's laughin'?\n  I'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, next time you see me...\n  (...holler like ya know me!)\n  I'm mad...\n\n  Refrain:\n  (Here's a little story, I've gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x\n\n  Parrish:\n  My life story I tell straight from the heart.\n  When suckers tried to crash my shit straight from start.\n  A young black kid destined for success, no Old Gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess.\n  Straight up hard work. No sleep and no shorts.\n  Brainstormin' with the skills that Pop Duke taught.\n  To keep swingin', yeah, and not to quit.\n  Now I ride the Benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends,\n  straight up pussy from Punk City, my attitude's fucked up and real shitty.\n  From the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends,\n  who swim in my pool. When it's time, flex the Benz,\n  around town, windows down at the South Town, Cool J tape or K-Solo \"Spellbound\"\n  With fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin'\n  Old Gold, Red Bull, hands on my dick and\n  I'm just lampin' with my EK shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid.\n  But of course not, brother can't get his props\n  like for instance, when I cruise up the block\n  in my 560 lampin' on my Metro phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome.\n  But like a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way\n  That's how I knew you're on my dick kid, but it's okay.\n  It's normal, relax, your whole head's busted.\n  Caught in the rap skit, ya couldn't be trusted.\n  Cuz my sounds pound from here to Okinowi...{kiss} peace and I'm ouuuutie!\n\n  Refrain\n\n  Erick:\n  Stay tuned to this last episode, when I rock the house and the mic explodes.\n  This is not the buckwild style that I be usin', in fact black,\n  it causes {mass confusion}\n  It's a fallout, when sucker MCs and crowds call out my name,\n  oh what a shame I got {fame!}\n  Parrish:\n  I'm not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact,\n  I'm like Clint Eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes I pack\n  in my flow gun, so son, ya better run,\n  cuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none.\n  We move wax like kilos ...{scratch}\n  and when my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode.\n  Watch the right hook, duck the death blow jack,\n  I wonder where the E and the P's at...\n  (Can they do it again?) You bet your ass, black.\n  (See you in '91) Until things get the bozack... (I'm mad...)\n\n  Refrain\n"},{"id":20899634,"name":"I'm Mad","trackName":"I'm Mad","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Rampage","duration":219.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Erick sermon:\nIt's the e, and I'm smokin'. wild like tone loc, I'm roastin, bakin' mcs,\nThe e I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, slack up.\nWatch your weak posse, before they get smacked up.\nOne by one, two by two, three by three, yo p...\n[Parrish: what's up, e.d.? ]\nPass the uzi, to blow up, any wack mc that show up,\nThere goes one, blast 'im now.\n[E, hold up.]\n*Don't make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape,\nAnd buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and i'm-a catch a bullshit charge,\nPlus trial.\nIt's my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck mc that can't hang.\nDon't forget, I'm crazy swift. my name is erick sermon\n[Yeah, and I'm parrish smith]\nI could act foolish, start blastin'. ha ha ha ha, now who's laughin'?\nI'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, next time you see me...\n[...holler like ya know me!]\nI'm mad...\n\nRefrain:\n(Here's a little story, I've gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x\n\nParrish:\nMy life story I tell straight from the heart.\nWhen suckers tried to crash my shit straight from start.\nA young black kid destined for success, no old gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess.\nStraight up hard work. no sleep and no shorts.\nBrainstormin' with the skills that pop duke taught.\nTo keep swingin', yeah, and not to quit.\nNow I ride the benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends,\nStraight up pussy from punk city, my attitude's fucked up and real shitty.\nFrom the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends,\nWho swim in my pool. when it's time, flex the benz,\nAround town, windows down at the south town, cool j tape or k-solo spellbound\nWith fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin'\nOld gold, red bull, hands on my dick and\nI'm just lampin' with my ek shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid.\nBut of course not, brother can't get his props\nLike for instance, when I cruise up the block\nIn my 560 lampin' on my metro phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome.\nBut like a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way\nThat's how I knew you're on my dick kid, but it's okay.\nIt's normal, relax, your whole head's busted.\nCaught in the rap skit, ya couldn't be trusted.\nCuz my sounds pound from here to okinowi...{kiss} peace and I'm ouuuutie!\n\nRefrain\n\nErick:\nStay tuned to this last episode, when I rock the house and the mic explodes.\nThis is not the buckwild style that I be usin', in fact black,\nIt causes {mass confusion}\nIt's a fallout, when sucker mcs and crowds call out my name,\nOh what a shame I got {fame!}\nParrish:\nI'm not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact,\nI'm like clint eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes I pack\nIn my flow gun, so son, ya better run,\nCuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none.\nWe move wax like kilos ...{scratch}\nAnd when my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode.\nWatch the right hook, duck the death blow jack,\nI wonder where the e and the p's at...\n[Can they do it again? ] you bet your ass, black.\n[See you in '91] until things get the bozack... [I'm mad...]\n\nRefrain","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.89] Erick sermon:\n[00:04.52] It's the e, and I'm smokin'. wild like tone loc, I'm roastin, bakin' mcs,\n[00:23.83] The e I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, slack up.\n[00:27.68] Watch your weak posse, before they get smacked up.\n[00:30.15] One by one, two by two, three by three, yo p...\n[00:32.15] [Parrish: what's up, e.d.? ]\n[00:33.60] Pass the uzi, to blow up, any wack mc that show up,\n[00:36.20] There goes one, blast 'im now.\n[00:38.13] [E, hold up.]\n[00:39.18] *Don't make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape,\n[00:43.45] And buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and i'm-a catch a bullshit charge,\n[00:46.92] Plus trial.\n[00:47.71] It's my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck mc that can't hang.\n[00:52.02] Don't forget, I'm crazy swift. my name is erick sermon\n[00:55.49] [Yeah, and I'm parrish smith]\n[00:56.77] I could act foolish, start blastin'. ha ha ha ha, now who's laughin'?\n[01:00.75] I'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, next time you see me...\n[01:03.94] [...holler like ya know me!]\n[01:05.11] I'm mad...\n[01:06.05] Refrain:\n[01:11.20] (Here's a little story, I've gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x\n[01:17.78] Parrish:\n[01:19.76] My life story I tell straight from the heart.\n[01:25.08] When suckers tried to crash my shit straight from start.\n[01:27.24] A young black kid destined for success, no old gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess.\n[01:31.28] Straight up hard work. no sleep and no shorts.\n[01:33.82] Brainstormin' with the skills that pop duke taught.\n[01:36.35] To keep swingin', yeah, and not to quit.\n[01:38.06] Now I ride the benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends,\n[01:40.51] Straight up pussy from punk city, my attitude's fucked up and real shitty.\n[01:44.65] From the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends,\n[01:47.15] Who swim in my pool. when it's time, flex the benz,\n[01:49.63] Around town, windows down at the south town, cool j tape or k-solo spellbound\n[01:53.38] With fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin'\n[01:56.14] Old gold, red bull, hands on my dick and\n[01:58.39] I'm just lampin' with my ek shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid.\n[02:01.82] But of course not, brother can't get his props\n[02:04.64] Like for instance, when I cruise up the block\n[02:06.68] In my 560 lampin' on my metro phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome.\n[02:10.85] But like a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way\n[02:13.33] That's how I knew you're on my dick kid, but it's okay.\n[02:15.43] It's normal, relax, your whole head's busted.\n[02:17.98] Caught in the rap skit, ya couldn't be trusted.\n[02:20.25] Cuz my sounds pound from here to okinowi...{kiss} peace and I'm ouuuutie!\n[02:24.65] Refrain\n[02:25.97] Erick:\n[02:27.43] Stay tuned to this last episode, when I rock the house and the mic explodes.\n[02:46.51] This is not the buckwild style that I be usin', in fact black,\n[02:49.51] It causes {mass confusion}\n[02:51.04] It's a fallout, when sucker mcs and crowds call out my name,\n[02:54.06] Oh what a shame I got {fame!}\n[02:55.62] Parrish:\n[02:56.52] I'm not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact,\n[02:57.03] I'm like clint eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes I pack\n[02:59.81] In my flow gun, so son, ya better run,\n[03:02.17] Cuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none.\n[03:04.32] We move wax like kilos ...{scratch}\n[03:05.53] And when my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode.\n[03:10.83] Watch the right hook, duck the death blow jack,\n[03:13.18] I wonder where the e and the p's at...\n[03:15.65] [Can they do it again? ] you bet your ass, black.\n[03:17.69] [See you in '91] until things get the bozack... [I'm mad...]\n[03:20.34] Refrain\n[03:21.39] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: I'm Mad\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Rampage\n  duration_ms: 219000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: 'Erick sermon:'\n  start_ms: 890\n  end_ms: 4520\n- text: It's the e, and I'm smokin'. wild like tone loc, I'm roastin, bakin' mcs,\n  start_ms: 4520\n  end_ms: 23830\n- text: The e I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, slack up.\n  start_ms: 23830\n  end_ms: 27680\n- text: Watch your weak posse, before they get smacked up.\n  start_ms: 27680\n  end_ms: 30150\n- text: One by one, two by two, three by three, yo p...\n  start_ms: 30150\n  end_ms: 32150\n- text: '[Parrish: what''s up, e.d.? ]'\n  start_ms: 32150\n  end_ms: 33600\n- text: Pass the uzi, to blow up, any wack mc that show up,\n  start_ms: 33600\n  end_ms: 36200\n- text: There goes one, blast 'im now.\n  start_ms: 36200\n  end_ms: 38130\n- text: '[E, hold up.]'\n  start_ms: 38130\n  end_ms: 39180\n- text: '*Don''t make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape,'\n  start_ms: 39180\n  end_ms: 43450\n- text: And buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and i'm-a catch a bullshit charge,\n  start_ms: 43450\n  end_ms: 46920\n- text: Plus trial.\n  start_ms: 46920\n  end_ms: 47710\n- text: It's my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck mc that can't hang.\n  start_ms: 47710\n  end_ms: 52020\n- text: Don't forget, I'm crazy swift. my name is erick sermon\n  start_ms: 52020\n  end_ms: 55490\n- text: '[Yeah, and I''m parrish smith]'\n  start_ms: 55490\n  end_ms: 56770\n- text: I could act foolish, start blastin'. ha ha ha ha, now who's laughin'?\n  start_ms: 56770\n  end_ms: 60750\n- text: I'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, next time you see me...\n  start_ms: 60750\n  end_ms: 63940\n- text: '[...holler like ya know me!]'\n  start_ms: 63940\n  end_ms: 65110\n- text: I'm mad...\n  start_ms: 65110\n  end_ms: 66050\n- text: 'Refrain:'\n  start_ms: 66050\n  end_ms: 71200\n- text: (Here's a little story, I've gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x\n  start_ms: 71200\n  end_ms: 77780\n- text: 'Parrish:'\n  start_ms: 77780\n  end_ms: 79760\n- text: My life story I tell straight from the heart.\n  start_ms: 79760\n  end_ms: 85080\n- text: When suckers tried to crash my shit straight from start.\n  start_ms: 85080\n  end_ms: 87240\n- text: A young black kid destined for success, no old gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess.\n  start_ms: 87240\n  end_ms: 91280\n- text: Straight up hard work. no sleep and no shorts.\n  start_ms: 91280\n  end_ms: 93820\n- text: Brainstormin' with the skills that pop duke taught.\n  start_ms: 93820\n  end_ms: 96350\n- text: To keep swingin', yeah, and not to quit.\n  start_ms: 96350\n  end_ms: 98060\n- text: Now I ride the benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends,\n  start_ms: 98060\n  end_ms: 100510\n- text: Straight up pussy from punk city, my attitude's fucked up and real shitty.\n  start_ms: 100510\n  end_ms: 104650\n- text: From the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends,\n  start_ms: 104650\n  end_ms: 107150\n- text: Who swim in my pool. when it's time, flex the benz,\n  start_ms: 107150\n  end_ms: 109630\n- text: Around town, windows down at the south town, cool j tape or k-solo spellbound\n  start_ms: 109630\n  end_ms: 113380\n- text: With fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin'\n  start_ms: 113380\n  end_ms: 116140\n- text: Old gold, red bull, hands on my dick and\n  start_ms: 116140\n  end_ms: 118390\n- text: I'm just lampin' with my ek shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid.\n  start_ms: 118390\n  end_ms: 121820\n- text: But of course not, brother can't get his props\n  start_ms: 121820\n  end_ms: 124640\n- text: Like for instance, when I cruise up the block\n  start_ms: 124640\n  end_ms: 126680\n- text: In my 560 lampin' on my metro phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome.\n  start_ms: 126680\n  end_ms: 130850\n- text: But like a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way\n  start_ms: 130850\n  end_ms: 133330\n- text: That's how I knew you're on my dick kid, but it's okay.\n  start_ms: 133330\n  end_ms: 135430\n- text: It's normal, relax, your whole head's busted.\n  start_ms: 135430\n  end_ms: 137980\n- text: Caught in the rap skit, ya couldn't be trusted.\n  start_ms: 137980\n  end_ms: 140250\n- text: Cuz my sounds pound from here to okinowi...{kiss} peace and I'm ouuuutie!\n  start_ms: 140250\n  end_ms: 144650\n- text: Refrain\n  start_ms: 144650\n  end_ms: 145970\n- text: 'Erick:'\n  start_ms: 145970\n  end_ms: 147430\n- text: Stay tuned to this last episode, when I rock the house and the mic explodes.\n  start_ms: 147430\n  end_ms: 166510\n- text: This is not the buckwild style that I be usin', in fact black,\n  start_ms: 166510\n  end_ms: 169510\n- text: It causes {mass confusion}\n  start_ms: 169510\n  end_ms: 171040\n- text: It's a fallout, when sucker mcs and crowds call out my name,\n  start_ms: 171040\n  end_ms: 174060\n- text: Oh what a shame I got {fame!}\n  start_ms: 174060\n  end_ms: 175620\n- text: 'Parrish:'\n  start_ms: 175620\n  end_ms: 176520\n- text: I'm not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact,\n  start_ms: 176520\n  end_ms: 177030\n- text: I'm like clint eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes I pack\n  start_ms: 177030\n  end_ms: 179810\n- text: In my flow gun, so son, ya better run,\n  start_ms: 179810\n  end_ms: 182170\n- text: Cuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none.\n  start_ms: 182170\n  end_ms: 184320\n- text: We move wax like kilos ...{scratch}\n  start_ms: 184320\n  end_ms: 185530\n- text: And when my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode.\n  start_ms: 185530\n  end_ms: 190830\n- text: Watch the right hook, duck the death blow jack,\n  start_ms: 190830\n  end_ms: 193180\n- text: I wonder where the e and the p's at...\n  start_ms: 193180\n  end_ms: 195650\n- text: '[Can they do it again? ] you bet your ass, black.'\n  start_ms: 195650\n  end_ms: 197690\n- text: '[See you in ''91] until things get the bozack... [I''m mad...]'\n  start_ms: 197690\n  end_ms: 200340\n- text: Refrain\n  start_ms: 200340\n  end_ms: 201390\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201390\nplain: |-\n  Erick sermon:\n  It's the e, and I'm smokin'. wild like tone loc, I'm roastin, bakin' mcs,\n  The e I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, slack up.\n  Watch your weak posse, before they get smacked up.\n  One by one, two by two, three by three, yo p...\n  [Parrish: what's up, e.d.? ]\n  Pass the uzi, to blow up, any wack mc that show up,\n  There goes one, blast 'im now.\n  [E, hold up.]\n  *Don't make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape,\n  And buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and i'm-a catch a bullshit charge,\n  Plus trial.\n  It's my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck mc that can't hang.\n  Don't forget, I'm crazy swift. my name is erick sermon\n  [Yeah, and I'm parrish smith]\n  I could act foolish, start blastin'. ha ha ha ha, now who's laughin'?\n  I'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, next time you see me...\n  [...holler like ya know me!]\n  I'm mad...\n\n  Refrain:\n  (Here's a little story, I've gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x\n\n  Parrish:\n  My life story I tell straight from the heart.\n  When suckers tried to crash my shit straight from start.\n  A young black kid destined for success, no old gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess.\n  Straight up hard work. no sleep and no shorts.\n  Brainstormin' with the skills that pop duke taught.\n  To keep swingin', yeah, and not to quit.\n  Now I ride the benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends,\n  Straight up pussy from punk city, my attitude's fucked up and real shitty.\n  From the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends,\n  Who swim in my pool. when it's time, flex the benz,\n  Around town, windows down at the south town, cool j tape or k-solo spellbound\n  With fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin'\n  Old gold, red bull, hands on my dick and\n  I'm just lampin' with my ek shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid.\n  But of course not, brother can't get his props\n  Like for instance, when I cruise up the block\n  In my 560 lampin' on my metro phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome.\n  But like a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way\n  That's how I knew you're on my dick kid, but it's okay.\n  It's normal, relax, your whole head's busted.\n  Caught in the rap skit, ya couldn't be trusted.\n  Cuz my sounds pound from here to okinowi...{kiss} peace and I'm ouuuutie!\n\n  Refrain\n\n  Erick:\n  Stay tuned to this last episode, when I rock the house and the mic explodes.\n  This is not the buckwild style that I be usin', in fact black,\n  It causes {mass confusion}\n  It's a fallout, when sucker mcs and crowds call out my name,\n  Oh what a shame I got {fame!}\n  Parrish:\n  I'm not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact,\n  I'm like clint eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes I pack\n  In my flow gun, so son, ya better run,\n  Cuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none.\n  We move wax like kilos ...{scratch}\n  And when my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode.\n  Watch the right hook, duck the death blow jack,\n  I wonder where the e and the p's at...\n  [Can they do it again? ] you bet your ass, black.\n  [See you in '91] until things get the bozack... [I'm mad...]\n\n  Refrain\n"},{"id":14683784,"name":"I'm Mad (Red Man mix)","trackName":"I'm Mad (Red Man mix)","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Rampage","duration":220.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Erick Sermon:\nIt's the E, and I'm smokin'. Wild like Tone Loc, I'm roastin, bakin' MCs,\nthe E I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, slack up.\nWatch your weak posse, before they get smacked up.\nOne by ONE, two by TWO, three by THREE, Yo P...\n(Parrish: What's Up, E.D.?)\nPass the Uzi, to blow up, any wack MC that show up,\nthere goes one, blast 'im now.\n(E, hold up.)\n*Don't make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape,\nand buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and I'm-a catch a bullshit charge,\nplus trial.\nIt's my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck MC that can't hang.\nDon't forget, I'm crazy swift. My name is Erick Sermon\n(yeah, and I'm Parrish Smith)\nI could act foolish, start blastin'. Ha ha ha ha, now who's laughin'?\nI'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, next time you see me...\n(...holler like ya know me!)\nI'm mad...\n\nRefrain:\n(Here's a little story, I've gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x\n\nParrish:\nMy life story I tell straight from the heart.\nWhen suckers tried to crash my shit straight from start.\nA young black kid destined for success, no Old Gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess.\nStraight up hard work. No sleep and no shorts.\nBrainstormin' with the skills that Pop Duke taught.\nTo keep swingin', yeah, and not to quit.\nNow I ride the Benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends,\nstraight up pussy from Punk City, my attitude's fucked up and real shitty.\nFrom the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends,\nwho swim in my pool. When it's time, flex the Benz,\naround town, windows down at the South Town, Cool J tape or K-Solo \"Spellbound\"\nWith fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin'\nOld Gold, Red Bull, hands on my dick and\nI'm just lampin' with my EK shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid.\nBut of course not, brother can't get his props\nlike for instance, when I cruise up the block\nin my 560 lampin' on my Metro phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome.\nBut like a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way\nThat's how I knew you're on my dick kid, but it's okay.\nIt's normal, relax, your whole head's busted.\nCaught in the rap skit, ya couldn't be trusted.\nCuz my sounds pound from here to Okinowi...{kiss} peace and I'm ouuuutie!\n\nRefrain\n\nErick:\nStay tuned to this last episode, when I rock the house and the mic explodes.\nThis is not the buckwild style that I be usin', in fact black,\nit causes {mass confusion}\nIt's a fallout, when sucker MCs and crowds call out my name,\noh what a shame I got {fame!}\nParrish:\nI'm not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact,\nI'm like Clint Eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes I pack\nin my flow gun, so son, ya better run,\ncuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none.\nWe move wax like kilos ...{scratch}\nand when my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode.\nWatch the right hook, duck the death blow jack,\nI wonder where the E and the P's at...\n(Can they do it again?) You bet your ass, black.\n(See you in '91) Until things get the bozack... (I'm mad...)\n\nRefrain","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: I'm Mad (Red Man mix)\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Rampage\n  duration_ms: 220000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Erick Sermon:\n  It's the E, and I'm smokin'. Wild like Tone Loc, I'm roastin, bakin' MCs,\n  the E I'm not jokin' so back up, punk, slack up.\n  Watch your weak posse, before they get smacked up.\n  One by ONE, two by TWO, three by THREE, Yo P...\n  (Parrish: What's Up, E.D.?)\n  Pass the Uzi, to blow up, any wack MC that show up,\n  there goes one, blast 'im now.\n  (E, hold up.)\n  *Don't make me wait-wait* because it might be too late, the punk might escape,\n  and buck whyle, and in fact, bite my style, and I'm-a catch a bullshit charge,\n  plus trial.\n  It's my thing to swing, your first mistake to bring a duck MC that can't hang.\n  Don't forget, I'm crazy swift. My name is Erick Sermon\n  (yeah, and I'm Parrish Smith)\n  I could act foolish, start blastin'. Ha ha ha ha, now who's laughin'?\n  I'm-a let ya slide, but ya owe me, next time you see me...\n  (...holler like ya know me!)\n  I'm mad...\n\n  Refrain:\n  (Here's a little story, I've gots to tell) {scratching} (I'm mad!) 4x\n\n  Parrish:\n  My life story I tell straight from the heart.\n  When suckers tried to crash my shit straight from start.\n  A young black kid destined for success, no Old Gold, no cocaine, or buddha cess.\n  Straight up hard work. No sleep and no shorts.\n  Brainstormin' with the skills that Pop Duke taught.\n  To keep swingin', yeah, and not to quit.\n  Now I ride the Benz, you ride the dick, with your punk friends,\n  straight up pussy from Punk City, my attitude's fucked up and real shitty.\n  From the backstabbers, yeah my so-called friends,\n  who swim in my pool. When it's time, flex the Benz,\n  around town, windows down at the South Town, Cool J tape or K-Solo \"Spellbound\"\n  With fly girlies dippin, brothers grippin' and sippin'\n  Old Gold, Red Bull, hands on my dick and\n  I'm just lampin' with my EK shades, truck-jewels, obviously the man's paid.\n  But of course not, brother can't get his props\n  like for instance, when I cruise up the block\n  in my 560 lampin' on my Metro phone, chrome kit beamin' all off your dome.\n  But like a sucka, yeah, you looked the other way\n  That's how I knew you're on my dick kid, but it's okay.\n  It's normal, relax, your whole head's busted.\n  Caught in the rap skit, ya couldn't be trusted.\n  Cuz my sounds pound from here to Okinowi...{kiss} peace and I'm ouuuutie!\n\n  Refrain\n\n  Erick:\n  Stay tuned to this last episode, when I rock the house and the mic explodes.\n  This is not the buckwild style that I be usin', in fact black,\n  it causes {mass confusion}\n  It's a fallout, when sucker MCs and crowds call out my name,\n  oh what a shame I got {fame!}\n  Parrish:\n  I'm not a new jack, my rhymes are not wack, and in fact,\n  I'm like Clint Eastwood, 'stead of bullets, rhymes I pack\n  in my flow gun, so son, ya better run,\n  cuz when it comes to hostage and prisoners, we take none.\n  We move wax like kilos ...{scratch}\n  and when my jam hits the streets, the sounds explode.\n  Watch the right hook, duck the death blow jack,\n  I wonder where the E and the P's at...\n  (Can they do it again?) You bet your ass, black.\n  (See you in '91) Until things get the bozack... (I'm mad...)\n\n  Refrain\n"},{"id":9149649,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"Epmd","albumName":"Business As Usual","duration":231.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: Epmd\n  album: Business As Usual\n  duration_ms: 231000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":32755837,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"mexican","duration":229.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.98] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:11.77] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:36.82] You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n[00:39.03] Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n[00:41.12] You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n[00:43.31] You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n[00:45.59] So many often wonder if mds paid\n[00:47.41] You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n[00:49.73] 'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n[00:51.87] And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n[00:54.15] So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n[00:56.32] A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n[00:58.52] My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n[01:00.68] Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n[01:02.39] 'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n[01:04.50] Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n[01:07.03] That's spanish terminology for friend\n[01:09.46] Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n[01:11.46] Bass funk with beats that thump\n[01:13.49] Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n[01:15.62] My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n[01:17.89] Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n[01:19.78] Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n[01:22.26] 'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n[01:24.43] I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n[01:26.83] I like to write but then again some bite\n[01:28.84] While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n[01:31.07] Yeah slow down baby\n[01:40.05] The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n[01:41.99] Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n[01:44.18] I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n[01:46.43] Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n[01:48.36] You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n[01:50.20] Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n[01:52.47] Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n[01:54.08] So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n[01:57.21] Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n[01:59.57] I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n[02:01.70] Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n[02:03.85] You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n[02:06.04] No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n[02:08.15] You and your squad better praise the real god\n[02:10.27] The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n[02:12.37] When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n[02:14.44] So lay the mike down slow and careful\n[02:16.37] 'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n[02:18.77] A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n[02:21.19] Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n[02:23.14] Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n[02:25.43] I'm down so that you clowns will know\n[02:27.08] Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n[02:29.56] I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n[02:32.02] Yeah slow down baby\n[02:41.07] When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n[02:43.02] I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n[02:45.26] When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n[02:47.40] Rap sees danger, can't roam\n[02:49.07] Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n[02:51.33] A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n[02:53.96] My microphone is filled with premium\n[02:55.86] Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n[02:58.21] Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n[03:00.19] When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n[03:02.83] Underneath fatigue at my peak\n[03:04.62] You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n[03:06.77] New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n[03:10.02] Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n[03:11.73] Yeah slow down baby\n[03:14.54] Slow down baby\n[03:21.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: mexican\n  duration_ms: 229000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 9980\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 36820\n- text: You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  start_ms: 36820\n  end_ms: 39030\n- text: Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  start_ms: 39030\n  end_ms: 41120\n- text: You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  start_ms: 41120\n  end_ms: 43310\n- text: You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  start_ms: 43310\n  end_ms: 45590\n- text: So many often wonder if mds paid\n  start_ms: 45590\n  end_ms: 47410\n- text: You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  start_ms: 47410\n  end_ms: 49730\n- text: '''cause I clock gs while you clock zs'\n  start_ms: 49730\n  end_ms: 51870\n- text: And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  start_ms: 51870\n  end_ms: 54150\n- text: So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  start_ms: 54150\n  end_ms: 56320\n- text: A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  start_ms: 56320\n  end_ms: 58520\n- text: My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  start_ms: 58520\n  end_ms: 60680\n- text: Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  start_ms: 60680\n  end_ms: 62390\n- text: '''cause I clock pesos, don''t sell ileyo'\n  start_ms: 62390\n  end_ms: 64500\n- text: Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  start_ms: 64500\n  end_ms: 67030\n- text: That's spanish terminology for friend\n  start_ms: 67030\n  end_ms: 69460\n- text: Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  start_ms: 69460\n  end_ms: 71460\n- text: Bass funk with beats that thump\n  start_ms: 71460\n  end_ms: 73490\n- text: Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  start_ms: 73490\n  end_ms: 75620\n- text: My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  start_ms: 75620\n  end_ms: 77890\n- text: Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  start_ms: 77890\n  end_ms: 79780\n- text: Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  start_ms: 79780\n  end_ms: 82260\n- text: '''cause I''m the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice'\n  start_ms: 82260\n  end_ms: 84430\n- text: I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  start_ms: 84430\n  end_ms: 86830\n- text: I like to write but then again some bite\n  start_ms: 86830\n  end_ms: 88840\n- text: While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n  start_ms: 88840\n  end_ms: 91070\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 91070\n  end_ms: 100050\n- text: The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  start_ms: 100050\n  end_ms: 101990\n- text: Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  start_ms: 101990\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 108360\n- text: You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  start_ms: 108360\n  end_ms: 110200\n- text: Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  start_ms: 110200\n  end_ms: 112470\n- text: Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  start_ms: 112470\n  end_ms: 114080\n- text: So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  start_ms: 114080\n  end_ms: 117210\n- text: Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  start_ms: 117210\n  end_ms: 119570\n- text: I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  start_ms: 119570\n  end_ms: 121700\n- text: Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  start_ms: 121700\n  end_ms: 123850\n- text: You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  start_ms: 123850\n  end_ms: 126040\n- text: No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  start_ms: 126040\n  end_ms: 128150\n- text: You and your squad better praise the real god\n  start_ms: 128150\n  end_ms: 130270\n- text: The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  start_ms: 130270\n  end_ms: 132370\n- text: When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  start_ms: 132370\n  end_ms: 134440\n- text: So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  start_ms: 134440\n  end_ms: 136370\n- text: '''cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful'\n  start_ms: 136370\n  end_ms: 138770\n- text: A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  start_ms: 138770\n  end_ms: 141190\n- text: Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  start_ms: 141190\n  end_ms: 143140\n- text: Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  start_ms: 143140\n  end_ms: 145430\n- text: I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  start_ms: 145430\n  end_ms: 147080\n- text: Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  start_ms: 147080\n  end_ms: 149560\n- text: I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n  start_ms: 149560\n  end_ms: 152020\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 152020\n  end_ms: 161070\n- text: When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  start_ms: 161070\n  end_ms: 163020\n- text: I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  start_ms: 163020\n  end_ms: 165260\n- text: When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  start_ms: 165260\n  end_ms: 167400\n- text: Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  start_ms: 167400\n  end_ms: 169070\n- text: Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  start_ms: 169070\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173960\n- text: My microphone is filled with premium\n  start_ms: 173960\n  end_ms: 175860\n- text: Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  start_ms: 175860\n  end_ms: 178210\n- text: Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  start_ms: 178210\n  end_ms: 180190\n- text: When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  start_ms: 180190\n  end_ms: 182830\n- text: Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  start_ms: 182830\n  end_ms: 184620\n- text: You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  start_ms: 184620\n  end_ms: 186770\n- text: New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  start_ms: 186770\n  end_ms: 190020\n- text: Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n  start_ms: 190020\n  end_ms: 191730\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 191730\n  end_ms: 194540\n- text: Slow down baby\n  start_ms: 194540\n  end_ms: 201230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201230\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":32774482,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Out Of Business (Double Limited Edition)","duration":229.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.98] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:11.77] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:36.82] You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n[00:39.03] Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n[00:41.12] You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n[00:43.31] You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n[00:45.59] So many often wonder if mds paid\n[00:47.41] You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n[00:49.73] 'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n[00:51.87] And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n[00:54.15] So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n[00:56.32] A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n[00:58.52] My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n[01:00.68] Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n[01:02.39] 'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n[01:04.50] Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n[01:07.03] That's spanish terminology for friend\n[01:09.46] Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n[01:11.46] Bass funk with beats that thump\n[01:13.49] Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n[01:15.62] My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n[01:17.89] Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n[01:19.78] Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n[01:22.26] 'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n[01:24.43] I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n[01:26.83] I like to write but then again some bite\n[01:28.84] While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n[01:31.07] Yeah slow down baby\n[01:40.05] The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n[01:41.99] Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n[01:44.18] I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n[01:46.43] Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n[01:48.36] You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n[01:50.20] Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n[01:52.47] Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n[01:54.08] So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n[01:57.21] Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n[01:59.57] I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n[02:01.70] Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n[02:03.85] You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n[02:06.04] No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n[02:08.15] You and your squad better praise the real god\n[02:10.27] The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n[02:12.37] When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n[02:14.44] So lay the mike down slow and careful\n[02:16.37] 'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n[02:18.77] A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n[02:21.19] Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n[02:23.14] Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n[02:25.43] I'm down so that you clowns will know\n[02:27.08] Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n[02:29.56] I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n[02:32.02] Yeah slow down baby\n[02:41.07] When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n[02:43.02] I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n[02:45.26] When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n[02:47.40] Rap sees danger, can't roam\n[02:49.07] Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n[02:51.33] A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n[02:53.96] My microphone is filled with premium\n[02:55.86] Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n[02:58.21] Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n[03:00.19] When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n[03:02.83] Underneath fatigue at my peak\n[03:04.62] You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n[03:06.77] New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n[03:10.02] Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n[03:11.73] Yeah slow down baby\n[03:14.54] Slow down baby\n[03:21.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Out Of Business (Double Limited Edition)\n  duration_ms: 229000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 9980\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 36820\n- text: You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  start_ms: 36820\n  end_ms: 39030\n- text: Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  start_ms: 39030\n  end_ms: 41120\n- text: You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  start_ms: 41120\n  end_ms: 43310\n- text: You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  start_ms: 43310\n  end_ms: 45590\n- text: So many often wonder if mds paid\n  start_ms: 45590\n  end_ms: 47410\n- text: You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  start_ms: 47410\n  end_ms: 49730\n- text: '''cause I clock gs while you clock zs'\n  start_ms: 49730\n  end_ms: 51870\n- text: And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  start_ms: 51870\n  end_ms: 54150\n- text: So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  start_ms: 54150\n  end_ms: 56320\n- text: A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  start_ms: 56320\n  end_ms: 58520\n- text: My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  start_ms: 58520\n  end_ms: 60680\n- text: Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  start_ms: 60680\n  end_ms: 62390\n- text: '''cause I clock pesos, don''t sell ileyo'\n  start_ms: 62390\n  end_ms: 64500\n- text: Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  start_ms: 64500\n  end_ms: 67030\n- text: That's spanish terminology for friend\n  start_ms: 67030\n  end_ms: 69460\n- text: Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  start_ms: 69460\n  end_ms: 71460\n- text: Bass funk with beats that thump\n  start_ms: 71460\n  end_ms: 73490\n- text: Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  start_ms: 73490\n  end_ms: 75620\n- text: My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  start_ms: 75620\n  end_ms: 77890\n- text: Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  start_ms: 77890\n  end_ms: 79780\n- text: Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  start_ms: 79780\n  end_ms: 82260\n- text: '''cause I''m the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice'\n  start_ms: 82260\n  end_ms: 84430\n- text: I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  start_ms: 84430\n  end_ms: 86830\n- text: I like to write but then again some bite\n  start_ms: 86830\n  end_ms: 88840\n- text: While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n  start_ms: 88840\n  end_ms: 91070\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 91070\n  end_ms: 100050\n- text: The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  start_ms: 100050\n  end_ms: 101990\n- text: Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  start_ms: 101990\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 108360\n- text: You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  start_ms: 108360\n  end_ms: 110200\n- text: Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  start_ms: 110200\n  end_ms: 112470\n- text: Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  start_ms: 112470\n  end_ms: 114080\n- text: So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  start_ms: 114080\n  end_ms: 117210\n- text: Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  start_ms: 117210\n  end_ms: 119570\n- text: I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  start_ms: 119570\n  end_ms: 121700\n- text: Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  start_ms: 121700\n  end_ms: 123850\n- text: You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  start_ms: 123850\n  end_ms: 126040\n- text: No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  start_ms: 126040\n  end_ms: 128150\n- text: You and your squad better praise the real god\n  start_ms: 128150\n  end_ms: 130270\n- text: The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  start_ms: 130270\n  end_ms: 132370\n- text: When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  start_ms: 132370\n  end_ms: 134440\n- text: So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  start_ms: 134440\n  end_ms: 136370\n- text: '''cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful'\n  start_ms: 136370\n  end_ms: 138770\n- text: A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  start_ms: 138770\n  end_ms: 141190\n- text: Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  start_ms: 141190\n  end_ms: 143140\n- text: Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  start_ms: 143140\n  end_ms: 145430\n- text: I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  start_ms: 145430\n  end_ms: 147080\n- text: Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  start_ms: 147080\n  end_ms: 149560\n- text: I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n  start_ms: 149560\n  end_ms: 152020\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 152020\n  end_ms: 161070\n- text: When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  start_ms: 161070\n  end_ms: 163020\n- text: I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  start_ms: 163020\n  end_ms: 165260\n- text: When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  start_ms: 165260\n  end_ms: 167400\n- text: Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  start_ms: 167400\n  end_ms: 169070\n- text: Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  start_ms: 169070\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173960\n- text: My microphone is filled with premium\n  start_ms: 173960\n  end_ms: 175860\n- text: Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  start_ms: 175860\n  end_ms: 178210\n- text: Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  start_ms: 178210\n  end_ms: 180190\n- text: When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  start_ms: 180190\n  end_ms: 182830\n- text: Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  start_ms: 182830\n  end_ms: 184620\n- text: You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  start_ms: 184620\n  end_ms: 186770\n- text: New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  start_ms: 186770\n  end_ms: 190020\n- text: Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n  start_ms: 190020\n  end_ms: 191730\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 191730\n  end_ms: 194540\n- text: Slow down baby\n  start_ms: 194540\n  end_ms: 201230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201230\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":14379466,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Icon","duration":231.915102,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Icon\n  duration_ms: 231915\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":22164380,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Business As Usual (Japan Remastered)","duration":231.8,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Business As Usual (Japan Remastered)\n  duration_ms: 231800\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":21483960,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Out of Business Disc 2","duration":229.433469,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Out of Business Disc 2\n  duration_ms: 229433\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":22872678,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Business As Usual (Explicit)","duration":234.13551,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Business As Usual (Explicit)\n  duration_ms: 234136\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":9894231,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Business As Usual","duration":234.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Business As Usual\n  duration_ms: 234000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":10250052,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Out of Business","duration":229.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.98] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:11.77] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:36.82] You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n[00:39.03] Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n[00:41.12] You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n[00:43.31] You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n[00:45.59] So many often wonder if mds paid\n[00:47.41] You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n[00:49.73] 'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n[00:51.87] And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n[00:54.15] So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n[00:56.32] A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n[00:58.52] My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n[01:00.68] Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n[01:02.39] 'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n[01:04.50] Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n[01:07.03] That's spanish terminology for friend\n[01:09.46] Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n[01:11.46] Bass funk with beats that thump\n[01:13.49] Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n[01:15.62] My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n[01:17.89] Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n[01:19.78] Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n[01:22.26] 'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n[01:24.43] I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n[01:26.83] I like to write but then again some bite\n[01:28.84] While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n[01:31.07] Yeah slow down baby\n[01:40.05] The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n[01:41.99] Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n[01:44.18] I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n[01:46.43] Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n[01:48.36] You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n[01:50.20] Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n[01:52.47] Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n[01:54.08] So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n[01:57.21] Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n[01:59.57] I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n[02:01.70] Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n[02:03.85] You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n[02:06.04] No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n[02:08.15] You and your squad better praise the real god\n[02:10.27] The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n[02:12.37] When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n[02:14.44] So lay the mike down slow and careful\n[02:16.37] 'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n[02:18.77] A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n[02:21.19] Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n[02:23.14] Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n[02:25.43] I'm down so that you clowns will know\n[02:27.08] Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n[02:29.56] I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n[02:32.02] Yeah slow down baby\n[02:41.07] When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n[02:43.02] I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n[02:45.26] When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n[02:47.40] Rap sees danger, can't roam\n[02:49.07] Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n[02:51.33] A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n[02:53.96] My microphone is filled with premium\n[02:55.86] Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n[02:58.21] Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n[03:00.19] When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n[03:02.83] Underneath fatigue at my peak\n[03:04.62] You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n[03:06.77] New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n[03:10.02] Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n[03:11.73] Yeah slow down baby\n[03:14.54] Slow down baby\n[03:21.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Out of Business\n  duration_ms: 229000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 9980\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 36820\n- text: You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  start_ms: 36820\n  end_ms: 39030\n- text: Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  start_ms: 39030\n  end_ms: 41120\n- text: You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  start_ms: 41120\n  end_ms: 43310\n- text: You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  start_ms: 43310\n  end_ms: 45590\n- text: So many often wonder if mds paid\n  start_ms: 45590\n  end_ms: 47410\n- text: You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  start_ms: 47410\n  end_ms: 49730\n- text: '''cause I clock gs while you clock zs'\n  start_ms: 49730\n  end_ms: 51870\n- text: And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  start_ms: 51870\n  end_ms: 54150\n- text: So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  start_ms: 54150\n  end_ms: 56320\n- text: A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  start_ms: 56320\n  end_ms: 58520\n- text: My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  start_ms: 58520\n  end_ms: 60680\n- text: Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  start_ms: 60680\n  end_ms: 62390\n- text: '''cause I clock pesos, don''t sell ileyo'\n  start_ms: 62390\n  end_ms: 64500\n- text: Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  start_ms: 64500\n  end_ms: 67030\n- text: That's spanish terminology for friend\n  start_ms: 67030\n  end_ms: 69460\n- text: Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  start_ms: 69460\n  end_ms: 71460\n- text: Bass funk with beats that thump\n  start_ms: 71460\n  end_ms: 73490\n- text: Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  start_ms: 73490\n  end_ms: 75620\n- text: My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  start_ms: 75620\n  end_ms: 77890\n- text: Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  start_ms: 77890\n  end_ms: 79780\n- text: Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  start_ms: 79780\n  end_ms: 82260\n- text: '''cause I''m the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice'\n  start_ms: 82260\n  end_ms: 84430\n- text: I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  start_ms: 84430\n  end_ms: 86830\n- text: I like to write but then again some bite\n  start_ms: 86830\n  end_ms: 88840\n- text: While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n  start_ms: 88840\n  end_ms: 91070\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 91070\n  end_ms: 100050\n- text: The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  start_ms: 100050\n  end_ms: 101990\n- text: Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  start_ms: 101990\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 108360\n- text: You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  start_ms: 108360\n  end_ms: 110200\n- text: Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  start_ms: 110200\n  end_ms: 112470\n- text: Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  start_ms: 112470\n  end_ms: 114080\n- text: So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  start_ms: 114080\n  end_ms: 117210\n- text: Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  start_ms: 117210\n  end_ms: 119570\n- text: I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  start_ms: 119570\n  end_ms: 121700\n- text: Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  start_ms: 121700\n  end_ms: 123850\n- text: You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  start_ms: 123850\n  end_ms: 126040\n- text: No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  start_ms: 126040\n  end_ms: 128150\n- text: You and your squad better praise the real god\n  start_ms: 128150\n  end_ms: 130270\n- text: The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  start_ms: 130270\n  end_ms: 132370\n- text: When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  start_ms: 132370\n  end_ms: 134440\n- text: So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  start_ms: 134440\n  end_ms: 136370\n- text: '''cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful'\n  start_ms: 136370\n  end_ms: 138770\n- text: A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  start_ms: 138770\n  end_ms: 141190\n- text: Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  start_ms: 141190\n  end_ms: 143140\n- text: Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  start_ms: 143140\n  end_ms: 145430\n- text: I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  start_ms: 145430\n  end_ms: 147080\n- text: Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  start_ms: 147080\n  end_ms: 149560\n- text: I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n  start_ms: 149560\n  end_ms: 152020\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 152020\n  end_ms: 161070\n- text: When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  start_ms: 161070\n  end_ms: 163020\n- text: I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  start_ms: 163020\n  end_ms: 165260\n- text: When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  start_ms: 165260\n  end_ms: 167400\n- text: Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  start_ms: 167400\n  end_ms: 169070\n- text: Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  start_ms: 169070\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173960\n- text: My microphone is filled with premium\n  start_ms: 173960\n  end_ms: 175860\n- text: Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  start_ms: 175860\n  end_ms: 178210\n- text: Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  start_ms: 178210\n  end_ms: 180190\n- text: When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  start_ms: 180190\n  end_ms: 182830\n- text: Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  start_ms: 182830\n  end_ms: 184620\n- text: You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  start_ms: 184620\n  end_ms: 186770\n- text: New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  start_ms: 186770\n  end_ms: 190020\n- text: Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n  start_ms: 190020\n  end_ms: 191730\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 191730\n  end_ms: 194540\n- text: Slow down baby\n  start_ms: 194540\n  end_ms: 201230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201230\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":12335329,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Out Of Business","duration":234.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Out Of Business\n  duration_ms: 234000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":12025250,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Best Of","duration":232.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Best Of\n  duration_ms: 232000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":11922532,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Out Of Business (Deluxe Edition)","duration":229.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.98] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:11.77] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:36.82] You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n[00:39.03] Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n[00:41.12] You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n[00:43.31] You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n[00:45.59] So many often wonder if mds paid\n[00:47.41] You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n[00:49.73] 'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n[00:51.87] And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n[00:54.15] So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n[00:56.32] A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n[00:58.52] My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n[01:00.68] Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n[01:02.39] 'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n[01:04.50] Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n[01:07.03] That's spanish terminology for friend\n[01:09.46] Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n[01:11.46] Bass funk with beats that thump\n[01:13.49] Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n[01:15.62] My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n[01:17.89] Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n[01:19.78] Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n[01:22.26] 'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n[01:24.43] I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n[01:26.83] I like to write but then again some bite\n[01:28.84] While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n[01:31.07] Yeah slow down baby\n[01:40.05] The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n[01:41.99] Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n[01:44.18] I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n[01:46.43] Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n[01:48.36] You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n[01:50.20] Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n[01:52.47] Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n[01:54.08] So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n[01:57.21] Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n[01:59.57] I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n[02:01.70] Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n[02:03.85] You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n[02:06.04] No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n[02:08.15] You and your squad better praise the real god\n[02:10.27] The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n[02:12.37] When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n[02:14.44] So lay the mike down slow and careful\n[02:16.37] 'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n[02:18.77] A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n[02:21.19] Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n[02:23.14] Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n[02:25.43] I'm down so that you clowns will know\n[02:27.08] Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n[02:29.56] I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n[02:32.02] Yeah slow down baby\n[02:41.07] When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n[02:43.02] I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n[02:45.26] When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n[02:47.40] Rap sees danger, can't roam\n[02:49.07] Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n[02:51.33] A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n[02:53.96] My microphone is filled with premium\n[02:55.86] Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n[02:58.21] Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n[03:00.19] When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n[03:02.83] Underneath fatigue at my peak\n[03:04.62] You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n[03:06.77] New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n[03:10.02] Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n[03:11.73] Yeah slow down baby\n[03:14.54] Slow down baby\n[03:21.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Out Of Business (Deluxe Edition)\n  duration_ms: 229000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 9980\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 36820\n- text: You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  start_ms: 36820\n  end_ms: 39030\n- text: Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  start_ms: 39030\n  end_ms: 41120\n- text: You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  start_ms: 41120\n  end_ms: 43310\n- text: You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  start_ms: 43310\n  end_ms: 45590\n- text: So many often wonder if mds paid\n  start_ms: 45590\n  end_ms: 47410\n- text: You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  start_ms: 47410\n  end_ms: 49730\n- text: '''cause I clock gs while you clock zs'\n  start_ms: 49730\n  end_ms: 51870\n- text: And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  start_ms: 51870\n  end_ms: 54150\n- text: So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  start_ms: 54150\n  end_ms: 56320\n- text: A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  start_ms: 56320\n  end_ms: 58520\n- text: My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  start_ms: 58520\n  end_ms: 60680\n- text: Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  start_ms: 60680\n  end_ms: 62390\n- text: '''cause I clock pesos, don''t sell ileyo'\n  start_ms: 62390\n  end_ms: 64500\n- text: Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  start_ms: 64500\n  end_ms: 67030\n- text: That's spanish terminology for friend\n  start_ms: 67030\n  end_ms: 69460\n- text: Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  start_ms: 69460\n  end_ms: 71460\n- text: Bass funk with beats that thump\n  start_ms: 71460\n  end_ms: 73490\n- text: Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  start_ms: 73490\n  end_ms: 75620\n- text: My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  start_ms: 75620\n  end_ms: 77890\n- text: Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  start_ms: 77890\n  end_ms: 79780\n- text: Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  start_ms: 79780\n  end_ms: 82260\n- text: '''cause I''m the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice'\n  start_ms: 82260\n  end_ms: 84430\n- text: I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  start_ms: 84430\n  end_ms: 86830\n- text: I like to write but then again some bite\n  start_ms: 86830\n  end_ms: 88840\n- text: While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n  start_ms: 88840\n  end_ms: 91070\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 91070\n  end_ms: 100050\n- text: The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  start_ms: 100050\n  end_ms: 101990\n- text: Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  start_ms: 101990\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 108360\n- text: You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  start_ms: 108360\n  end_ms: 110200\n- text: Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  start_ms: 110200\n  end_ms: 112470\n- text: Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  start_ms: 112470\n  end_ms: 114080\n- text: So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  start_ms: 114080\n  end_ms: 117210\n- text: Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  start_ms: 117210\n  end_ms: 119570\n- text: I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  start_ms: 119570\n  end_ms: 121700\n- text: Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  start_ms: 121700\n  end_ms: 123850\n- text: You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  start_ms: 123850\n  end_ms: 126040\n- text: No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  start_ms: 126040\n  end_ms: 128150\n- text: You and your squad better praise the real god\n  start_ms: 128150\n  end_ms: 130270\n- text: The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  start_ms: 130270\n  end_ms: 132370\n- text: When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  start_ms: 132370\n  end_ms: 134440\n- text: So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  start_ms: 134440\n  end_ms: 136370\n- text: '''cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful'\n  start_ms: 136370\n  end_ms: 138770\n- text: A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  start_ms: 138770\n  end_ms: 141190\n- text: Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  start_ms: 141190\n  end_ms: 143140\n- text: Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  start_ms: 143140\n  end_ms: 145430\n- text: I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  start_ms: 145430\n  end_ms: 147080\n- text: Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  start_ms: 147080\n  end_ms: 149560\n- text: I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n  start_ms: 149560\n  end_ms: 152020\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 152020\n  end_ms: 161070\n- text: When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  start_ms: 161070\n  end_ms: 163020\n- text: I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  start_ms: 163020\n  end_ms: 165260\n- text: When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  start_ms: 165260\n  end_ms: 167400\n- text: Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  start_ms: 167400\n  end_ms: 169070\n- text: Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  start_ms: 169070\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173960\n- text: My microphone is filled with premium\n  start_ms: 173960\n  end_ms: 175860\n- text: Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  start_ms: 175860\n  end_ms: 178210\n- text: Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  start_ms: 178210\n  end_ms: 180190\n- text: When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  start_ms: 180190\n  end_ms: 182830\n- text: Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  start_ms: 182830\n  end_ms: 184620\n- text: You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  start_ms: 184620\n  end_ms: 186770\n- text: New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  start_ms: 186770\n  end_ms: 190020\n- text: Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n  start_ms: 190020\n  end_ms: 191730\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 191730\n  end_ms: 194540\n- text: Slow down baby\n  start_ms: 194540\n  end_ms: 201230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201230\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":27445658,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Greatest Hits","duration":229.444083,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Greatest Hits\n  duration_ms: 229444\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":27835907,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"LL Cool J Essentials","duration":232.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.98] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:11.77] Slow down baby uhh\n[00:36.82] You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n[00:39.03] Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n[00:41.12] You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n[00:43.31] You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n[00:45.59] So many often wonder if mds paid\n[00:47.41] You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n[00:49.73] 'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n[00:51.87] And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n[00:54.15] So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n[00:56.32] A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n[00:58.52] My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n[01:00.68] Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n[01:02.39] 'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n[01:04.50] Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n[01:07.03] That's spanish terminology for friend\n[01:09.46] Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n[01:11.46] Bass funk with beats that thump\n[01:13.49] Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n[01:15.62] My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n[01:17.89] Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n[01:19.78] Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n[01:22.26] 'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n[01:24.43] I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n[01:26.83] I like to write but then again some bite\n[01:28.84] While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n[01:31.07] Yeah slow down baby\n[01:40.05] The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n[01:41.99] Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n[01:44.18] I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n[01:46.43] Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n[01:48.36] You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n[01:50.20] Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n[01:52.47] Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n[01:54.08] So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n[01:57.21] Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n[01:59.57] I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n[02:01.70] Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n[02:03.85] You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n[02:06.04] No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n[02:08.15] You and your squad better praise the real god\n[02:10.27] The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n[02:12.37] When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n[02:14.44] So lay the mike down slow and careful\n[02:16.37] 'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n[02:18.77] A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n[02:21.19] Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n[02:23.14] Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n[02:25.43] I'm down so that you clowns will know\n[02:27.08] Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n[02:29.56] I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n[02:32.02] Yeah slow down baby\n[02:41.07] When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n[02:43.02] I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n[02:45.26] When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n[02:47.40] Rap sees danger, can't roam\n[02:49.07] Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n[02:51.33] A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n[02:53.96] My microphone is filled with premium\n[02:55.86] Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n[02:58.21] Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n[03:00.19] When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n[03:02.83] Underneath fatigue at my peak\n[03:04.62] You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n[03:06.77] New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n[03:10.02] Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n[03:11.73] Yeah slow down baby\n[03:14.54] Slow down baby\n[03:21.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: LL Cool J Essentials\n  duration_ms: 232000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 9980\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: Slow down baby uhh\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 36820\n- text: You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  start_ms: 36820\n  end_ms: 39030\n- text: Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  start_ms: 39030\n  end_ms: 41120\n- text: You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  start_ms: 41120\n  end_ms: 43310\n- text: You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  start_ms: 43310\n  end_ms: 45590\n- text: So many often wonder if mds paid\n  start_ms: 45590\n  end_ms: 47410\n- text: You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  start_ms: 47410\n  end_ms: 49730\n- text: '''cause I clock gs while you clock zs'\n  start_ms: 49730\n  end_ms: 51870\n- text: And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  start_ms: 51870\n  end_ms: 54150\n- text: So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  start_ms: 54150\n  end_ms: 56320\n- text: A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  start_ms: 56320\n  end_ms: 58520\n- text: My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  start_ms: 58520\n  end_ms: 60680\n- text: Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  start_ms: 60680\n  end_ms: 62390\n- text: '''cause I clock pesos, don''t sell ileyo'\n  start_ms: 62390\n  end_ms: 64500\n- text: Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  start_ms: 64500\n  end_ms: 67030\n- text: That's spanish terminology for friend\n  start_ms: 67030\n  end_ms: 69460\n- text: Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  start_ms: 69460\n  end_ms: 71460\n- text: Bass funk with beats that thump\n  start_ms: 71460\n  end_ms: 73490\n- text: Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  start_ms: 73490\n  end_ms: 75620\n- text: My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  start_ms: 75620\n  end_ms: 77890\n- text: Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  start_ms: 77890\n  end_ms: 79780\n- text: Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  start_ms: 79780\n  end_ms: 82260\n- text: '''cause I''m the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice'\n  start_ms: 82260\n  end_ms: 84430\n- text: I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  start_ms: 84430\n  end_ms: 86830\n- text: I like to write but then again some bite\n  start_ms: 86830\n  end_ms: 88840\n- text: While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n  start_ms: 88840\n  end_ms: 91070\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 91070\n  end_ms: 100050\n- text: The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  start_ms: 100050\n  end_ms: 101990\n- text: Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  start_ms: 101990\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106430\n- text: Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  start_ms: 106430\n  end_ms: 108360\n- text: You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  start_ms: 108360\n  end_ms: 110200\n- text: Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  start_ms: 110200\n  end_ms: 112470\n- text: Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  start_ms: 112470\n  end_ms: 114080\n- text: So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  start_ms: 114080\n  end_ms: 117210\n- text: Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  start_ms: 117210\n  end_ms: 119570\n- text: I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  start_ms: 119570\n  end_ms: 121700\n- text: Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  start_ms: 121700\n  end_ms: 123850\n- text: You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  start_ms: 123850\n  end_ms: 126040\n- text: No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  start_ms: 126040\n  end_ms: 128150\n- text: You and your squad better praise the real god\n  start_ms: 128150\n  end_ms: 130270\n- text: The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  start_ms: 130270\n  end_ms: 132370\n- text: When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  start_ms: 132370\n  end_ms: 134440\n- text: So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  start_ms: 134440\n  end_ms: 136370\n- text: '''cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful'\n  start_ms: 136370\n  end_ms: 138770\n- text: A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  start_ms: 138770\n  end_ms: 141190\n- text: Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  start_ms: 141190\n  end_ms: 143140\n- text: Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  start_ms: 143140\n  end_ms: 145430\n- text: I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  start_ms: 145430\n  end_ms: 147080\n- text: Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  start_ms: 147080\n  end_ms: 149560\n- text: I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n  start_ms: 149560\n  end_ms: 152020\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 152020\n  end_ms: 161070\n- text: When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  start_ms: 161070\n  end_ms: 163020\n- text: I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  start_ms: 163020\n  end_ms: 165260\n- text: When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  start_ms: 165260\n  end_ms: 167400\n- text: Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  start_ms: 167400\n  end_ms: 169070\n- text: Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  start_ms: 169070\n  end_ms: 171330\n- text: A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  start_ms: 171330\n  end_ms: 173960\n- text: My microphone is filled with premium\n  start_ms: 173960\n  end_ms: 175860\n- text: Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  start_ms: 175860\n  end_ms: 178210\n- text: Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  start_ms: 178210\n  end_ms: 180190\n- text: When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  start_ms: 180190\n  end_ms: 182830\n- text: Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  start_ms: 182830\n  end_ms: 184620\n- text: You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  start_ms: 184620\n  end_ms: 186770\n- text: New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  start_ms: 186770\n  end_ms: 190020\n- text: Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n  start_ms: 190020\n  end_ms: 191730\n- text: Yeah slow down baby\n  start_ms: 191730\n  end_ms: 194540\n- text: Slow down baby\n  start_ms: 194540\n  end_ms: 201230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201230\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"},{"id":37706647,"name":"Rampage","trackName":"Rampage","artistName":"EPMD","albumName":"Most Wanted Vol.1","duration":231.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Slow down baby uhh\nSlow down baby uhh\n\nYou can get rugged, though, hard like p\nTrying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\nYou faggot to comp rapper on a quest\nYou get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\nSo many often wonder if mds paid\nYou're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\nAnd I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\nSo pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\nA rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\nMy style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\nRapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\nAnother name for cocaine, mi amigo\nThat's spanish terminology for friend\nNow sit back and rub my bozack as I send\nBass funk with beats that thump\nKickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\nMy system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\nBrother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\nDamn, how could a brother be so nice\n'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\nI choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\nI like to write but then again some bite\nWhile you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nThe ripper, the master, the overlordian\nPlaying m.c.s like a old accordion\nI get the inspiration from a necessary station\nThem sayin' I was vacationin'\nYou can't cope with your weak-ass throat\nTryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\nMajor m.c.s become minor b flats\nSo retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\nHere's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\nI'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\nPure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\nYou're quilty, face down on the pavement\nNo holds barred, it's time to get scarred\nYou and your squad better praise the real god\nThe undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\nWhen it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\nSo lay the mike down slow and careful\n'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\nA clip to slip in and start rippin'\nDivin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\nJust in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\nI'm down so that you clowns will know\nMe gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\nI got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\nYeah slow down baby\n\nWhen I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\nI master on the beat down, my style's rugged\nWhen I attack the microphone, close the zone\nRap sees danger, can't roam\nSecurity is packed and wall to wall can't fall\nA rap tank is full so I can't stall\nMy microphone is filled with premium\nAny whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\nNot with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\nWhen I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\nUnderneath fatigue at my peak\nYou still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\nNew method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\nLike bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\nYeah slow down baby\nSlow down baby","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rampage\n  artist: EPMD\n  album: Most Wanted Vol.1\n  duration_ms: 231000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Slow down baby uhh\n  Slow down baby uhh\n\n  You can get rugged, though, hard like p\n  Trying to play my man but you couldn't touch me\n  You faggot to comp rapper on a quest\n  You get your head flown, boy you must be smokin' sens\n  So many often wonder if mds paid\n  You're goddamn right, punk, stay outta my way\n  'cause I clock gs while you clock zs\n  And I don't smoke crack, I smoke m.c.s\n  So pick up a pen, cop a squat, and take notes\n  A rapper suffred from bleeding, sprains and slit throats\n  My style deadly psychopath or schizophrenic\n  Rapper choke like a curburetor, freeze up, and panic\n  'cause I clock pesos, don't sell ileyo\n  Another name for cocaine, mi amigo\n  That's spanish terminology for friend\n  Now sit back and rub my bozack as I send\n  Bass funk with beats that thump\n  Kickers and amps cold lined up in my trunk\n  My system cranking, my headlights are blinkin'\n  Brother ridin' my tip, l, at the same time thinkin'\n  Damn, how could a brother be so nice\n  'cause I'm the capital e-p twice m-d-e twice\n  I choose to squeeze, some choose to fight\n  I like to write but then again some bite\n  While you were bangin' on tables, I was bangin' snow white\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  The ripper, the master, the overlordian\n  Playing m.c.s like a old accordion\n  I get the inspiration from a necessary station\n  Them sayin' I was vacationin'\n  You can't cope with your weak-ass throat\n  Tryin' 'a sneak a peak in while I freak the notes\n  Major m.c.s become minor b flats\n  So retire the mike, get your chains and your bats\n  Here's your chance to advance, gettin' your stance\n  I'm 'a shoot the holster off your cowboy pants\n  Pure entertainment, tonight's your arraignment\n  You're quilty, face down on the pavement\n  No holds barred, it's time to get scarred\n  You and your squad better praise the real god\n  The undertaker droppin' thunder on fakers\n  When it comes to lyrics I'm as freaky as seka\n  So lay the mike down slow and careful\n  'cause mine is fully loaded and I have another handful\n  A clip to slip in and start rippin'\n  Divin' and dippin' and givin' punks a whippin'\n  Just in case you wanna go a few rounds and so\n  I'm down so that you clowns will know\n  Me gettin' burnt or hurt won't be tolerated\n  I got rhymes up the (huh) forget it, I'm constipated\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n\n  When I come around homeboy, watch your nugget\n  I master on the beat down, my style's rugged\n  When I attack the microphone, close the zone\n  Rap sees danger, can't roam\n  Security is packed and wall to wall can't fall\n  A rap tank is full so I can't stall\n  My microphone is filled with premium\n  Any whack m.c. that flexes, I'm creamin' 'em\n  Not with lotion, bust the motion, flotation\n  When I'm rockin' the mike I'm like coastin'\n  Underneath fatigue at my peak\n  You still seek the style 'cause yours is extra weak\n  New method, rip the stage at my age and get loose and kick\n  Like bruce in a rage-I'm on a rampage\n\n  Yeah slow down baby\n  Slow down baby\n"}]