[{"id":30418836,"name":"Run For Cover","trackName":"Run For Cover","artistName":"Flipmode Squad","albumName":"The Imperial [by Hillside]","duration":209.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, motherfuckers wanna talk shit in the motherfucking room\nI got something for your motherfucking ass, nigga\nCheck it out\n\nRampage upcoming express, through your chest (Chest)\nIn your Lex GS, stop talking BS\nMy watch is still flooded (What?), eight-fifty for the budget\nI'm rugged (Uh), cats get gutted\nRobbed and stabbed (Stabbed), send they rusty ass straight to the lab\nYou's a crab (Uh), I take mines off the top like fab (Uh)\nHit you with a jab for the '98 (Uh)\nNumber one in Billboard with the triangle shape\nFlipmode on every mixtape (Uh), watch you cats get scraped\nRampage, Alexander the Great (What?)\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nNow, who the chick to come ice the cake?\nWhere the fuck all y'all on my license plate? (Type shit)\nShitting on niggas done got a rap bitch fiending (Fiending)\nCeline type creaming (Creaming)\nMaking rappers poof like them crackers did Keenan\nMeaning, I run that\nWaiting on mine like I'm the LL comeback (What?)\nCorny ass crawled out some hole\nNow you sue 'cause you slither up the totem pole (What?)\nFlipmode Squad, affiliate of Tom Porter (Yeah)\nSend all you fucks back to decorate the corner\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\nYo, baby, 'Shan, take the safety off, ho\n\nThere's a lot of fake cats that jump in they mans Rolls (Word up)\nCome to my show with these fake Wallos (Yeah)\nTurquoise (What?), see it in voice with plans to blow\nSee me backstage with the gauge (What?) that blows my pants leg\nHandmade suits (Uh), contracts is in the briefcase\nLife negotiates, so when I split these pies, I'm fucking your dime\nBlow-for-blow battle in rhymes, talking some crime\nNow I got to split your time (What? What?)\nGet your shit pushed back like these seats recline (Yeah)\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nSpliff Star, throw on my skully, tipping my brim (Uh-huh)\nStand on the street corner, scuffing up my Timbs\nTake off my jacket, back the four-fifth, cause a racket (That's right)\nFreaky nigga, Jimmy Swaggart (What?), kill the fucker (Fucka)\nNiggas had it (Ha), contradiction (Uh), crucifixion\nFalse leadership, Richard Nixon\nBouncing and switching the lanes all up in the Range\nHere's a fifty for twenty dollars of gas, give me my change\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nFuck, it's the world's famous international\nSinner, irrational, nigga who dance with wolves (Awoo)\nMasterful, bash skulls\nCrack axles, peel out in black Fords (Ahh)\nSplatter brains on dashboards, start anthrax wars\nSeize cash like task force, die on the cross (Ha)\nJuly 4th, blow your hands off (Blaow), special delivery\nJam court with ghetto misery (Pray to\nGod), ghetto killer, breeze a K-9\nLast days, heard it through the grapevine\nKilling your blood, millennium bug\nUnited States divide with hate crime\nRoll snake eyes in the concrete jungle of Hell\nWhile Lord Have' stay super like the son of Jor-El\n\nWhat? You know we got it locked way outta state\nWhat? Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late\nWhat? You know we got it locked way outta state\n\nI be the last nigga, be quick to bust your ass, nigga\nDo anything in this world to get the cash, nigga\nI might even get mad and even slash a nigga\nRob him and get away in a car and crash, nigga\nFuck the world gon' do when I drop the smash, nigga?\nEyein' all in your face, don't make me pull the trigger\nAnother reason for me to have to pour my whole swigga\nThought I was posing for word up, but a fed took my picture\nSurgeon general, I represent the underneath\nI ask my nigga Keith, the world's greatest fucking thief\nBricklayer, hardcore, smash your front teeth\nNiggas is wilding and straight giving they mother mad grief\nRob a nigga, strip him down, leave him in his brief\nDo so much dirt, the priest asked me to turn another leaf\nMade the priest flip, change his whole belief\nStarted wilding in the crowd with\nThem niggas to start beef (That fool)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Run For Cover\n  artist: Flipmode Squad\n  album: The Imperial [by Hillside]\n  duration_ms: 209000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, motherfuckers wanna talk shit in the motherfucking room\n  I got something for your motherfucking ass, nigga\n  Check it out\n\n  Rampage upcoming express, through your chest (Chest)\n  In your Lex GS, stop talking BS\n  My watch is still flooded (What?), eight-fifty for the budget\n  I'm rugged (Uh), cats get gutted\n  Robbed and stabbed (Stabbed), send they rusty ass straight to the lab\n  You's a crab (Uh), I take mines off the top like fab (Uh)\n  Hit you with a jab for the '98 (Uh)\n  Number one in Billboard with the triangle shape\n  Flipmode on every mixtape (Uh), watch you cats get scraped\n  Rampage, Alexander the Great (What?)\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Now, who the chick to come ice the cake?\n  Where the fuck all y'all on my license plate? (Type shit)\n  Shitting on niggas done got a rap bitch fiending (Fiending)\n  Celine type creaming (Creaming)\n  Making rappers poof like them crackers did Keenan\n  Meaning, I run that\n  Waiting on mine like I'm the LL comeback (What?)\n  Corny ass crawled out some hole\n  Now you sue 'cause you slither up the totem pole (What?)\n  Flipmode Squad, affiliate of Tom Porter (Yeah)\n  Send all you fucks back to decorate the corner\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n  Yo, baby, 'Shan, take the safety off, ho\n\n  There's a lot of fake cats that jump in they mans Rolls (Word up)\n  Come to my show with these fake Wallos (Yeah)\n  Turquoise (What?), see it in voice with plans to blow\n  See me backstage with the gauge (What?) that blows my pants leg\n  Handmade suits (Uh), contracts is in the briefcase\n  Life negotiates, so when I split these pies, I'm fucking your dime\n  Blow-for-blow battle in rhymes, talking some crime\n  Now I got to split your time (What? What?)\n  Get your shit pushed back like these seats recline (Yeah)\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Spliff Star, throw on my skully, tipping my brim (Uh-huh)\n  Stand on the street corner, scuffing up my Timbs\n  Take off my jacket, back the four-fifth, cause a racket (That's right)\n  Freaky nigga, Jimmy Swaggart (What?), kill the fucker (Fucka)\n  Niggas had it (Ha), contradiction (Uh), crucifixion\n  False leadership, Richard Nixon\n  Bouncing and switching the lanes all up in the Range\n  Here's a fifty for twenty dollars of gas, give me my change\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Fuck, it's the world's famous international\n  Sinner, irrational, nigga who dance with wolves (Awoo)\n  Masterful, bash skulls\n  Crack axles, peel out in black Fords (Ahh)\n  Splatter brains on dashboards, start anthrax wars\n  Seize cash like task force, die on the cross (Ha)\n  July 4th, blow your hands off (Blaow), special delivery\n  Jam court with ghetto misery (Pray to\n  God), ghetto killer, breeze a K-9\n  Last days, heard it through the grapevine\n  Killing your blood, millennium bug\n  United States divide with hate crime\n  Roll snake eyes in the concrete jungle of Hell\n  While Lord Have' stay super like the son of Jor-El\n\n  What? You know we got it locked way outta state\n  What? Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late\n  What? You know we got it locked way outta state\n\n  I be the last nigga, be quick to bust your ass, nigga\n  Do anything in this world to get the cash, nigga\n  I might even get mad and even slash a nigga\n  Rob him and get away in a car and crash, nigga\n  Fuck the world gon' do when I drop the smash, nigga?\n  Eyein' all in your face, don't make me pull the trigger\n  Another reason for me to have to pour my whole swigga\n  Thought I was posing for word up, but a fed took my picture\n  Surgeon general, I represent the underneath\n  I ask my nigga Keith, the world's greatest fucking thief\n  Bricklayer, hardcore, smash your front teeth\n  Niggas is wilding and straight giving they mother mad grief\n  Rob a nigga, strip him down, leave him in his brief\n  Do so much dirt, the priest asked me to turn another leaf\n  Made the priest flip, change his whole belief\n  Started wilding in the crowd with\n  Them niggas to start beef (That fool)\n"},{"id":29766375,"name":"Run for Cover","trackName":"Run for Cover","artistName":"Flipmode Squad","albumName":"The Imperial","duration":209.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, motherfuckers wanna talk shit in the motherfucking room\nI got something for your motherfucking ass, nigga\nCheck it out\n\nRampage upcoming express, through your chest (Chest)\nIn your Lex GS, stop talking BS\nMy watch is still flooded (What?), eight-fifty for the budget\nI'm rugged (Uh), cats get gutted\nRobbed and stabbed (Stabbed), send they rusty ass straight to the lab\nYou's a crab (Uh), I take mines off the top like fab (Uh)\nHit you with a jab for the '98 (Uh)\nNumber one in Billboard with the triangle shape\nFlipmode on every mixtape (Uh), watch you cats get scraped\nRampage, Alexander the Great (What?)\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nNow, who the chick to come ice the cake?\nWhere the fuck all y'all on my license plate? (Type shit)\nShitting on niggas done got a rap bitch fiending (Fiending)\nCeline type creaming (Creaming)\nMaking rappers poof like them crackers did Keenan\nMeaning, I run that\nWaiting on mine like I'm the LL comeback (What?)\nCorny ass crawled out some hole\nNow you sue 'cause you slither up the totem pole (What?)\nFlipmode Squad, affiliate of Tom Porter (Yeah)\nSend all you fucks back to decorate the corner\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\nYo, baby, 'Shan, take the safety off, ho\n\nThere's a lot of fake cats that jump in they mans Rolls (Word up)\nCome to my show with these fake Wallos (Yeah)\nTurquoise (What?), see it in voice with plans to blow\nSee me backstage with the gauge (What?) that blows my pants leg\nHandmade suits (Uh), contracts is in the briefcase\nLife negotiates, so when I split these pies, I'm fucking your dime\nBlow-for-blow battle in rhymes, talking some crime\nNow I got to split your time (What? What?)\nGet your shit pushed back like these seats recline (Yeah)\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nSpliff Star, throw on my skully, tipping my brim (Uh-huh)\nStand on the street corner, scuffing up my Timbs\nTake off my jacket, back the four-fifth, cause a racket (That's right)\nFreaky nigga, Jimmy Swaggart (What?), kill the fucker (Fucka)\nNiggas had it (Ha), contradiction (Uh), crucifixion\nFalse leadership, Richard Nixon\nBouncing and switching the lanes all up in the Range\nHere's a fifty for twenty dollars of gas, give me my change\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nFuck, it's the world's famous international\nSinner, irrational, nigga who dance with wolves (Awoo)\nMasterful, bash skulls\nCrack axles, peel out in black Fords (Ahh)\nSplatter brains on dashboards, start anthrax wars\nSeize cash like task force, die on the cross (Ha)\nJuly 4th, blow your hands off (Blaow), special delivery\nJam court with ghetto misery (Pray to\nGod), ghetto killer, breeze a K-9\nLast days, heard it through the grapevine\nKilling your blood, millennium bug\nUnited States divide with hate crime\nRoll snake eyes in the concrete jungle of Hell\nWhile Lord Have' stay super like the son of Jor-El\n\nWhat? You know we got it locked way outta state\nWhat? Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late\nWhat? You know we got it locked way outta state\n\nI be the last nigga, be quick to bust your ass, nigga\nDo anything in this world to get the cash, nigga\nI might even get mad and even slash a nigga\nRob him and get away in a car and crash, nigga\nFuck the world gon' do when I drop the smash, nigga?\nEyein' all in your face, don't make me pull the trigger\nAnother reason for me to have to pour my whole swigga\nThought I was posing for word up, but a fed took my picture\nSurgeon general, I represent the underneath\nI ask my nigga Keith, the world's greatest fucking thief\nBricklayer, hardcore, smash your front teeth\nNiggas is wilding and straight giving they mother mad grief\nRob a nigga, strip him down, leave him in his brief\nDo so much dirt, the priest asked me to turn another leaf\nMade the priest flip, change his whole belief\nStarted wilding in the crowd with\nThem niggas to start beef (That fool)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Run for Cover\n  artist: Flipmode Squad\n  album: The Imperial\n  duration_ms: 209000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, motherfuckers wanna talk shit in the motherfucking room\n  I got something for your motherfucking ass, nigga\n  Check it out\n\n  Rampage upcoming express, through your chest (Chest)\n  In your Lex GS, stop talking BS\n  My watch is still flooded (What?), eight-fifty for the budget\n  I'm rugged (Uh), cats get gutted\n  Robbed and stabbed (Stabbed), send they rusty ass straight to the lab\n  You's a crab (Uh), I take mines off the top like fab (Uh)\n  Hit you with a jab for the '98 (Uh)\n  Number one in Billboard with the triangle shape\n  Flipmode on every mixtape (Uh), watch you cats get scraped\n  Rampage, Alexander the Great (What?)\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Now, who the chick to come ice the cake?\n  Where the fuck all y'all on my license plate? (Type shit)\n  Shitting on niggas done got a rap bitch fiending (Fiending)\n  Celine type creaming (Creaming)\n  Making rappers poof like them crackers did Keenan\n  Meaning, I run that\n  Waiting on mine like I'm the LL comeback (What?)\n  Corny ass crawled out some hole\n  Now you sue 'cause you slither up the totem pole (What?)\n  Flipmode Squad, affiliate of Tom Porter (Yeah)\n  Send all you fucks back to decorate the corner\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n  Yo, baby, 'Shan, take the safety off, ho\n\n  There's a lot of fake cats that jump in they mans Rolls (Word up)\n  Come to my show with these fake Wallos (Yeah)\n  Turquoise (What?), see it in voice with plans to blow\n  See me backstage with the gauge (What?) that blows my pants leg\n  Handmade suits (Uh), contracts is in the briefcase\n  Life negotiates, so when I split these pies, I'm fucking your dime\n  Blow-for-blow battle in rhymes, talking some crime\n  Now I got to split your time (What? What?)\n  Get your shit pushed back like these seats recline (Yeah)\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Spliff Star, throw on my skully, tipping my brim (Uh-huh)\n  Stand on the street corner, scuffing up my Timbs\n  Take off my jacket, back the four-fifth, cause a racket (That's right)\n  Freaky nigga, Jimmy Swaggart (What?), kill the fucker (Fucka)\n  Niggas had it (Ha), contradiction (Uh), crucifixion\n  False leadership, Richard Nixon\n  Bouncing and switching the lanes all up in the Range\n  Here's a fifty for twenty dollars of gas, give me my change\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Fuck, it's the world's famous international\n  Sinner, irrational, nigga who dance with wolves (Awoo)\n  Masterful, bash skulls\n  Crack axles, peel out in black Fords (Ahh)\n  Splatter brains on dashboards, start anthrax wars\n  Seize cash like task force, die on the cross (Ha)\n  July 4th, blow your hands off (Blaow), special delivery\n  Jam court with ghetto misery (Pray to\n  God), ghetto killer, breeze a K-9\n  Last days, heard it through the grapevine\n  Killing your blood, millennium bug\n  United States divide with hate crime\n  Roll snake eyes in the concrete jungle of Hell\n  While Lord Have' stay super like the son of Jor-El\n\n  What? You know we got it locked way outta state\n  What? Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late\n  What? You know we got it locked way outta state\n\n  I be the last nigga, be quick to bust your ass, nigga\n  Do anything in this world to get the cash, nigga\n  I might even get mad and even slash a nigga\n  Rob him and get away in a car and crash, nigga\n  Fuck the world gon' do when I drop the smash, nigga?\n  Eyein' all in your face, don't make me pull the trigger\n  Another reason for me to have to pour my whole swigga\n  Thought I was posing for word up, but a fed took my picture\n  Surgeon general, I represent the underneath\n  I ask my nigga Keith, the world's greatest fucking thief\n  Bricklayer, hardcore, smash your front teeth\n  Niggas is wilding and straight giving they mother mad grief\n  Rob a nigga, strip him down, leave him in his brief\n  Do so much dirt, the priest asked me to turn another leaf\n  Made the priest flip, change his whole belief\n  Started wilding in the crowd with\n  Them niggas to start beef (That fool)\n"},{"id":29534187,"name":"Run For Cover","trackName":"Run For Cover","artistName":"Flipmode Squad","albumName":"The Imperial","duration":212.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, motherfuckers wanna talk shit in the motherfucking room\nI got something for your motherfucking ass, nigga\nCheck it out\n\nRampage upcoming express, through your chest (Chest)\nIn your Lex GS, stop talking BS\nMy watch is still flooded (What?), eight-fifty for the budget\nI'm rugged (Uh), cats get gutted\nRobbed and stabbed (Stabbed), send they rusty ass straight to the lab\nYou's a crab (Uh), I take mines off the top like fab (Uh)\nHit you with a jab for the '98 (Uh)\nNumber one in Billboard with the triangle shape\nFlipmode on every mixtape (Uh), watch you cats get scraped\nRampage, Alexander the Great (What?)\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nNow, who the chick to come ice the cake?\nWhere the fuck all y'all on my license plate? (Type shit)\nShitting on niggas done got a rap bitch fiending (Fiending)\nCeline type creaming (Creaming)\nMaking rappers poof like them crackers did Keenan\nMeaning, I run that\nWaiting on mine like I'm the LL comeback (What?)\nCorny ass crawled out some hole\nNow you sue 'cause you slither up the totem pole (What?)\nFlipmode Squad, affiliate of Tom Porter (Yeah)\nSend all you fucks back to decorate the corner\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\nYo, baby, 'Shan, take the safety off, ho\n\nThere's a lot of fake cats that jump in they mans Rolls (Word up)\nCome to my show with these fake Wallos (Yeah)\nTurquoise (What?), see it in voice with plans to blow\nSee me backstage with the gauge (What?) that blows my pants leg\nHandmade suits (Uh), contracts is in the briefcase\nLife negotiates, so when I split these pies, I'm fucking your dime\nBlow-for-blow battle in rhymes, talking some crime\nNow I got to split your time (What? What?)\nGet your shit pushed back like these seats recline (Yeah)\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nSpliff Star, throw on my skully, tipping my brim (Uh-huh)\nStand on the street corner, scuffing up my Timbs\nTake off my jacket, back the four-fifth, cause a racket (That's right)\nFreaky nigga, Jimmy Swaggart (What?), kill the fucker (Fucka)\nNiggas had it (Ha), contradiction (Uh), crucifixion\nFalse leadership, Richard Nixon\nBouncing and switching the lanes all up in the Range\nHere's a fifty for twenty dollars of gas, give me my change\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nFuck, it's the world's famous international\nSinner, irrational, nigga who dance with wolves (Awoo)\nMasterful, bash skulls\nCrack axles, peel out in black Fords (Ahh)\nSplatter brains on dashboards, start anthrax wars\nSeize cash like task force, die on the cross (Ha)\nJuly 4th, blow your hands off (Blaow), special delivery\nJam court with ghetto misery (Pray to\nGod), ghetto killer, breeze a K-9\nLast days, heard it through the grapevine\nKilling your blood, millennium bug\nUnited States divide with hate crime\nRoll snake eyes in the concrete jungle of Hell\nWhile Lord Have' stay super like the son of Jor-El\n\nWhat? You know we got it locked way outta state\nWhat? Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late\nWhat? You know we got it locked way outta state\n\nI be the last nigga, be quick to bust your ass, nigga\nDo anything in this world to get the cash, nigga\nI might even get mad and even slash a nigga\nRob him and get away in a car and crash, nigga\nFuck the world gon' do when I drop the smash, nigga?\nEyein' all in your face, don't make me pull the trigger\nAnother reason for me to have to pour my whole swigga\nThought I was posing for word up, but a fed took my picture\nSurgeon general, I represent the underneath\nI ask my nigga Keith, the world's greatest fucking thief\nBricklayer, hardcore, smash your front teeth\nNiggas is wilding and straight giving they mother mad grief\nRob a nigga, strip him down, leave him in his brief\nDo so much dirt, the priest asked me to turn another leaf\nMade the priest flip, change his whole belief\nStarted wilding in the crowd with\nThem niggas to start beef (That fool)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Run For Cover\n  artist: Flipmode Squad\n  album: The Imperial\n  duration_ms: 212000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, motherfuckers wanna talk shit in the motherfucking room\n  I got something for your motherfucking ass, nigga\n  Check it out\n\n  Rampage upcoming express, through your chest (Chest)\n  In your Lex GS, stop talking BS\n  My watch is still flooded (What?), eight-fifty for the budget\n  I'm rugged (Uh), cats get gutted\n  Robbed and stabbed (Stabbed), send they rusty ass straight to the lab\n  You's a crab (Uh), I take mines off the top like fab (Uh)\n  Hit you with a jab for the '98 (Uh)\n  Number one in Billboard with the triangle shape\n  Flipmode on every mixtape (Uh), watch you cats get scraped\n  Rampage, Alexander the Great (What?)\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Now, who the chick to come ice the cake?\n  Where the fuck all y'all on my license plate? (Type shit)\n  Shitting on niggas done got a rap bitch fiending (Fiending)\n  Celine type creaming (Creaming)\n  Making rappers poof like them crackers did Keenan\n  Meaning, I run that\n  Waiting on mine like I'm the LL comeback (What?)\n  Corny ass crawled out some hole\n  Now you sue 'cause you slither up the totem pole (What?)\n  Flipmode Squad, affiliate of Tom Porter (Yeah)\n  Send all you fucks back to decorate the corner\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n  Yo, baby, 'Shan, take the safety off, ho\n\n  There's a lot of fake cats that jump in they mans Rolls (Word up)\n  Come to my show with these fake Wallos (Yeah)\n  Turquoise (What?), see it in voice with plans to blow\n  See me backstage with the gauge (What?) that blows my pants leg\n  Handmade suits (Uh), contracts is in the briefcase\n  Life negotiates, so when I split these pies, I'm fucking your dime\n  Blow-for-blow battle in rhymes, talking some crime\n  Now I got to split your time (What? What?)\n  Get your shit pushed back like these seats recline (Yeah)\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Spliff Star, throw on my skully, tipping my brim (Uh-huh)\n  Stand on the street corner, scuffing up my Timbs\n  Take off my jacket, back the four-fifth, cause a racket (That's right)\n  Freaky nigga, Jimmy Swaggart (What?), kill the fucker (Fucka)\n  Niggas had it (Ha), contradiction (Uh), crucifixion\n  False leadership, Richard Nixon\n  Bouncing and switching the lanes all up in the Range\n  Here's a fifty for twenty dollars of gas, give me my change\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Fuck, it's the world's famous international\n  Sinner, irrational, nigga who dance with wolves (Awoo)\n  Masterful, bash skulls\n  Crack axles, peel out in black Fords (Ahh)\n  Splatter brains on dashboards, start anthrax wars\n  Seize cash like task force, die on the cross (Ha)\n  July 4th, blow your hands off (Blaow), special delivery\n  Jam court with ghetto misery (Pray to\n  God), ghetto killer, breeze a K-9\n  Last days, heard it through the grapevine\n  Killing your blood, millennium bug\n  United States divide with hate crime\n  Roll snake eyes in the concrete jungle of Hell\n  While Lord Have' stay super like the son of Jor-El\n\n  What? You know we got it locked way outta state\n  What? Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late\n  What? You know we got it locked way outta state\n\n  I be the last nigga, be quick to bust your ass, nigga\n  Do anything in this world to get the cash, nigga\n  I might even get mad and even slash a nigga\n  Rob him and get away in a car and crash, nigga\n  Fuck the world gon' do when I drop the smash, nigga?\n  Eyein' all in your face, don't make me pull the trigger\n  Another reason for me to have to pour my whole swigga\n  Thought I was posing for word up, but a fed took my picture\n  Surgeon general, I represent the underneath\n  I ask my nigga Keith, the world's greatest fucking thief\n  Bricklayer, hardcore, smash your front teeth\n  Niggas is wilding and straight giving they mother mad grief\n  Rob a nigga, strip him down, leave him in his brief\n  Do so much dirt, the priest asked me to turn another leaf\n  Made the priest flip, change his whole belief\n  Started wilding in the crowd with\n  Them niggas to start beef (That fool)\n"},{"id":37190092,"name":"Run For Cover","trackName":"Run For Cover","artistName":"Flipmode Squad","albumName":"The Imperial Album","duration":209.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, motherfuckers wanna talk shit in the motherfucking room\nI got something for your motherfucking ass, nigga\nCheck it out\n\nRampage upcoming express, through your chest (Chest)\nIn your Lex GS, stop talking BS\nMy watch is still flooded (What?), eight-fifty for the budget\nI'm rugged (Uh), cats get gutted\nRobbed and stabbed (Stabbed), send they rusty ass straight to the lab\nYou's a crab (Uh), I take mines off the top like fab (Uh)\nHit you with a jab for the '98 (Uh)\nNumber one in Billboard with the triangle shape\nFlipmode on every mixtape (Uh), watch you cats get scraped\nRampage, Alexander the Great (What?)\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nNow, who the chick to come ice the cake?\nWhere the fuck all y'all on my license plate? (Type shit)\nShitting on niggas done got a rap bitch fiending (Fiending)\nCeline type creaming (Creaming)\nMaking rappers poof like them crackers did Keenan\nMeaning, I run that\nWaiting on mine like I'm the LL comeback (What?)\nCorny ass crawled out some hole\nNow you sue 'cause you slither up the totem pole (What?)\nFlipmode Squad, affiliate of Tom Porter (Yeah)\nSend all you fucks back to decorate the corner\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\nYo, baby, 'Shan, take the safety off, ho\n\nThere's a lot of fake cats that jump in they mans Rolls (Word up)\nCome to my show with these fake Wallos (Yeah)\nTurquoise (What?), see it in voice with plans to blow\nSee me backstage with the gauge (What?) that blows my pants leg\nHandmade suits (Uh), contracts is in the briefcase\nLife negotiates, so when I split these pies, I'm fucking your dime\nBlow-for-blow battle in rhymes, talking some crime\nNow I got to split your time (What? What?)\nGet your shit pushed back like these seats recline (Yeah)\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nSpliff Star, throw on my skully, tipping my brim (Uh-huh)\nStand on the street corner, scuffing up my Timbs\nTake off my jacket, back the four-fifth, cause a racket (That's right)\nFreaky nigga, Jimmy Swaggart (What?), kill the fucker (Fucka)\nNiggas had it (Ha), contradiction (Uh), crucifixion\nFalse leadership, Richard Nixon\nBouncing and switching the lanes all up in the Range\nHere's a fifty for twenty dollars of gas, give me my change\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nFuck, it's the world's famous international\nSinner, irrational, nigga who dance with wolves (Awoo)\nMasterful, bash skulls\nCrack axles, peel out in black Fords (Ahh)\nSplatter brains on dashboards, start anthrax wars\nSeize cash like task force, die on the cross (Ha)\nJuly 4th, blow your hands off (Blaow), special delivery\nJam court with ghetto misery (Pray to\nGod), ghetto killer, breeze a K-9\nLast days, heard it through the grapevine\nKilling your blood, millennium bug\nUnited States divide with hate crime\nRoll snake eyes in the concrete jungle of Hell\nWhile Lord Have' stay super like the son of Jor-El\n\nWhat? You know we got it locked way outta state\nWhat? Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late\nWhat? You know we got it locked way outta state\n\nI be the last nigga, be quick to bust your ass, nigga\nDo anything in this world to get the cash, nigga\nI might even get mad and even slash a nigga\nRob him and get away in a car and crash, nigga\nFuck the world gon' do when I drop the smash, nigga?\nEyein' all in your face, don't make me pull the trigger\nAnother reason for me to have to pour my whole swigga\nThought I was posing for word up, but a fed took my picture\nSurgeon general, I represent the underneath\nI ask my nigga Keith, the world's greatest fucking thief\nBricklayer, hardcore, smash your front teeth\nNiggas is wilding and straight giving they mother mad grief\nRob a nigga, strip him down, leave him in his brief\nDo so much dirt, the priest asked me to turn another leaf\nMade the priest flip, change his whole belief\nStarted wilding in the crowd with\nThem niggas to start beef (That fool)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Run For Cover\n  artist: Flipmode Squad\n  album: The Imperial Album\n  duration_ms: 209000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, motherfuckers wanna talk shit in the motherfucking room\n  I got something for your motherfucking ass, nigga\n  Check it out\n\n  Rampage upcoming express, through your chest (Chest)\n  In your Lex GS, stop talking BS\n  My watch is still flooded (What?), eight-fifty for the budget\n  I'm rugged (Uh), cats get gutted\n  Robbed and stabbed (Stabbed), send they rusty ass straight to the lab\n  You's a crab (Uh), I take mines off the top like fab (Uh)\n  Hit you with a jab for the '98 (Uh)\n  Number one in Billboard with the triangle shape\n  Flipmode on every mixtape (Uh), watch you cats get scraped\n  Rampage, Alexander the Great (What?)\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Now, who the chick to come ice the cake?\n  Where the fuck all y'all on my license plate? (Type shit)\n  Shitting on niggas done got a rap bitch fiending (Fiending)\n  Celine type creaming (Creaming)\n  Making rappers poof like them crackers did Keenan\n  Meaning, I run that\n  Waiting on mine like I'm the LL comeback (What?)\n  Corny ass crawled out some hole\n  Now you sue 'cause you slither up the totem pole (What?)\n  Flipmode Squad, affiliate of Tom Porter (Yeah)\n  Send all you fucks back to decorate the corner\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n  Yo, baby, 'Shan, take the safety off, ho\n\n  There's a lot of fake cats that jump in they mans Rolls (Word up)\n  Come to my show with these fake Wallos (Yeah)\n  Turquoise (What?), see it in voice with plans to blow\n  See me backstage with the gauge (What?) that blows my pants leg\n  Handmade suits (Uh), contracts is in the briefcase\n  Life negotiates, so when I split these pies, I'm fucking your dime\n  Blow-for-blow battle in rhymes, talking some crime\n  Now I got to split your time (What? What?)\n  Get your shit pushed back like these seats recline (Yeah)\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Spliff Star, throw on my skully, tipping my brim (Uh-huh)\n  Stand on the street corner, scuffing up my Timbs\n  Take off my jacket, back the four-fifth, cause a racket (That's right)\n  Freaky nigga, Jimmy Swaggart (What?), kill the fucker (Fucka)\n  Niggas had it (Ha), contradiction (Uh), crucifixion\n  False leadership, Richard Nixon\n  Bouncing and switching the lanes all up in the Range\n  Here's a fifty for twenty dollars of gas, give me my change\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Fuck, it's the world's famous international\n  Sinner, irrational, nigga who dance with wolves (Awoo)\n  Masterful, bash skulls\n  Crack axles, peel out in black Fords (Ahh)\n  Splatter brains on dashboards, start anthrax wars\n  Seize cash like task force, die on the cross (Ha)\n  July 4th, blow your hands off (Blaow), special delivery\n  Jam court with ghetto misery (Pray to\n  God), ghetto killer, breeze a K-9\n  Last days, heard it through the grapevine\n  Killing your blood, millennium bug\n  United States divide with hate crime\n  Roll snake eyes in the concrete jungle of Hell\n  While Lord Have' stay super like the son of Jor-El\n\n  What? You know we got it locked way outta state\n  What? Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late\n  What? You know we got it locked way outta state\n\n  I be the last nigga, be quick to bust your ass, nigga\n  Do anything in this world to get the cash, nigga\n  I might even get mad and even slash a nigga\n  Rob him and get away in a car and crash, nigga\n  Fuck the world gon' do when I drop the smash, nigga?\n  Eyein' all in your face, don't make me pull the trigger\n  Another reason for me to have to pour my whole swigga\n  Thought I was posing for word up, but a fed took my picture\n  Surgeon general, I represent the underneath\n  I ask my nigga Keith, the world's greatest fucking thief\n  Bricklayer, hardcore, smash your front teeth\n  Niggas is wilding and straight giving they mother mad grief\n  Rob a nigga, strip him down, leave him in his brief\n  Do so much dirt, the priest asked me to turn another leaf\n  Made the priest flip, change his whole belief\n  Started wilding in the crowd with\n  Them niggas to start beef (That fool)\n"},{"id":35175430,"name":"Run for Cover","trackName":"Run for Cover","artistName":"Flipmode Squad (Starring Busta Rhymes, Rampage, Lord Have Mercy, Spliff Star, Rah Digga & Baby Sham)","albumName":"The Imperial","duration":212.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, motherfuckers wanna talk shit in the motherfucking room\nI got something for your motherfucking ass, nigga\nCheck it out\n\nRampage upcoming express, through your chest (Chest)\nIn your Lex GS, stop talking BS\nMy watch is still flooded (What?), eight-fifty for the budget\nI'm rugged (Uh), cats get gutted\nRobbed and stabbed (Stabbed), send they rusty ass straight to the lab\nYou's a crab (Uh), I take mines off the top like fab (Uh)\nHit you with a jab for the '98 (Uh)\nNumber one in Billboard with the triangle shape\nFlipmode on every mixtape (Uh), watch you cats get scraped\nRampage, Alexander the Great (What?)\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nNow, who the chick to come ice the cake?\nWhere the fuck all y'all on my license plate? (Type shit)\nShitting on niggas done got a rap bitch fiending (Fiending)\nCeline type creaming (Creaming)\nMaking rappers poof like them crackers did Keenan\nMeaning, I run that\nWaiting on mine like I'm the LL comeback (What?)\nCorny ass crawled out some hole\nNow you sue 'cause you slither up the totem pole (What?)\nFlipmode Squad, affiliate of Tom Porter (Yeah)\nSend all you fucks back to decorate the corner\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\nYo, baby, 'Shan, take the safety off, ho\n\nThere's a lot of fake cats that jump in they mans Rolls (Word up)\nCome to my show with these fake Wallos (Yeah)\nTurquoise (What?), see it in voice with plans to blow\nSee me backstage with the gauge (What?) that blows my pants leg\nHandmade suits (Uh), contracts is in the briefcase\nLife negotiates, so when I split these pies, I'm fucking your dime\nBlow-for-blow battle in rhymes, talking some crime\nNow I got to split your time (What? What?)\nGet your shit pushed back like these seats recline (Yeah)\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nSpliff Star, throw on my skully, tipping my brim (Uh-huh)\nStand on the street corner, scuffing up my Timbs\nTake off my jacket, back the four-fifth, cause a racket (That's right)\nFreaky nigga, Jimmy Swaggart (What?), kill the fucker (Fucka)\nNiggas had it (Ha), contradiction (Uh), crucifixion\nFalse leadership, Richard Nixon\nBouncing and switching the lanes all up in the Range\nHere's a fifty for twenty dollars of gas, give me my change\n\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\nNiggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\nYou know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\nFuck, it's the world's famous international\nSinner, irrational, nigga who dance with wolves (Awoo)\nMasterful, bash skulls\nCrack axles, peel out in black Fords (Ahh)\nSplatter brains on dashboards, start anthrax wars\nSeize cash like task force, die on the cross (Ha)\nJuly 4th, blow your hands off (Blaow), special delivery\nJam court with ghetto misery (Pray to\nGod), ghetto killer, breeze a K-9\nLast days, heard it through the grapevine\nKilling your blood, millennium bug\nUnited States divide with hate crime\nRoll snake eyes in the concrete jungle of Hell\nWhile Lord Have' stay super like the son of Jor-El\n\nWhat? You know we got it locked way outta state\nWhat? Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late\nWhat? You know we got it locked way outta state\n\nI be the last nigga, be quick to bust your ass, nigga\nDo anything in this world to get the cash, nigga\nI might even get mad and even slash a nigga\nRob him and get away in a car and crash, nigga\nFuck the world gon' do when I drop the smash, nigga?\nEyein' all in your face, don't make me pull the trigger\nAnother reason for me to have to pour my whole swigga\nThought I was posing for word up, but a fed took my picture\nSurgeon general, I represent the underneath\nI ask my nigga Keith, the world's greatest fucking thief\nBricklayer, hardcore, smash your front teeth\nNiggas is wilding and straight giving they mother mad grief\nRob a nigga, strip him down, leave him in his brief\nDo so much dirt, the priest asked me to turn another leaf\nMade the priest flip, change his whole belief\nStarted wilding in the crowd with\nThem niggas to start beef (That fool)","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Run for Cover\n  artist: Flipmode Squad (Starring Busta Rhymes, Rampage, Lord Have Mercy, Spliff Star, Rah Digga & Baby Sham)\n  album: The Imperial\n  duration_ms: 212000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, motherfuckers wanna talk shit in the motherfucking room\n  I got something for your motherfucking ass, nigga\n  Check it out\n\n  Rampage upcoming express, through your chest (Chest)\n  In your Lex GS, stop talking BS\n  My watch is still flooded (What?), eight-fifty for the budget\n  I'm rugged (Uh), cats get gutted\n  Robbed and stabbed (Stabbed), send they rusty ass straight to the lab\n  You's a crab (Uh), I take mines off the top like fab (Uh)\n  Hit you with a jab for the '98 (Uh)\n  Number one in Billboard with the triangle shape\n  Flipmode on every mixtape (Uh), watch you cats get scraped\n  Rampage, Alexander the Great (What?)\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Now, who the chick to come ice the cake?\n  Where the fuck all y'all on my license plate? (Type shit)\n  Shitting on niggas done got a rap bitch fiending (Fiending)\n  Celine type creaming (Creaming)\n  Making rappers poof like them crackers did Keenan\n  Meaning, I run that\n  Waiting on mine like I'm the LL comeback (What?)\n  Corny ass crawled out some hole\n  Now you sue 'cause you slither up the totem pole (What?)\n  Flipmode Squad, affiliate of Tom Porter (Yeah)\n  Send all you fucks back to decorate the corner\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n  Yo, baby, 'Shan, take the safety off, ho\n\n  There's a lot of fake cats that jump in they mans Rolls (Word up)\n  Come to my show with these fake Wallos (Yeah)\n  Turquoise (What?), see it in voice with plans to blow\n  See me backstage with the gauge (What?) that blows my pants leg\n  Handmade suits (Uh), contracts is in the briefcase\n  Life negotiates, so when I split these pies, I'm fucking your dime\n  Blow-for-blow battle in rhymes, talking some crime\n  Now I got to split your time (What? What?)\n  Get your shit pushed back like these seats recline (Yeah)\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Spliff Star, throw on my skully, tipping my brim (Uh-huh)\n  Stand on the street corner, scuffing up my Timbs\n  Take off my jacket, back the four-fifth, cause a racket (That's right)\n  Freaky nigga, Jimmy Swaggart (What?), kill the fucker (Fucka)\n  Niggas had it (Ha), contradiction (Uh), crucifixion\n  False leadership, Richard Nixon\n  Bouncing and switching the lanes all up in the Range\n  Here's a fifty for twenty dollars of gas, give me my change\n\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n  Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late (What?)\n  You know we got it locked way outta state (What?)\n\n  Fuck, it's the world's famous international\n  Sinner, irrational, nigga who dance with wolves (Awoo)\n  Masterful, bash skulls\n  Crack axles, peel out in black Fords (Ahh)\n  Splatter brains on dashboards, start anthrax wars\n  Seize cash like task force, die on the cross (Ha)\n  July 4th, blow your hands off (Blaow), special delivery\n  Jam court with ghetto misery (Pray to\n  God), ghetto killer, breeze a K-9\n  Last days, heard it through the grapevine\n  Killing your blood, millennium bug\n  United States divide with hate crime\n  Roll snake eyes in the concrete jungle of Hell\n  While Lord Have' stay super like the son of Jor-El\n\n  What? You know we got it locked way outta state\n  What? Niggas run for cover 'fore it's too late\n  What? You know we got it locked way outta state\n\n  I be the last nigga, be quick to bust your ass, nigga\n  Do anything in this world to get the cash, nigga\n  I might even get mad and even slash a nigga\n  Rob him and get away in a car and crash, nigga\n  Fuck the world gon' do when I drop the smash, nigga?\n  Eyein' all in your face, don't make me pull the trigger\n  Another reason for me to have to pour my whole swigga\n  Thought I was posing for word up, but a fed took my picture\n  Surgeon general, I represent the underneath\n  I ask my nigga Keith, the world's greatest fucking thief\n  Bricklayer, hardcore, smash your front teeth\n  Niggas is wilding and straight giving they mother mad grief\n  Rob a nigga, strip him down, leave him in his brief\n  Do so much dirt, the priest asked me to turn another leaf\n  Made the priest flip, change his whole belief\n  Started wilding in the crowd with\n  Them niggas to start beef (That fool)\n"}]