[{"id":9112601,"name":"UNITY","trackName":"UNITY","artistName":"Frank Ocean","albumName":"Endless","duration":174.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"U-N-I-T\nU-N-I—\nMy head fatiguing off the opus\nKept it underground to focus\nI feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\nNiggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\nNothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\nYou still are no match, you get no rematch\nBoy, you missed your moment\nPerusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\nOn his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\nWhere's the shaman? Ayahuasca\nI had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\nI never ever trust the pre-rolled\nI never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\nI never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\nNever fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\nIt forever seemed like time's up\nWhen we swerved in the Honda\nNow forever seems like no time\nI mean, time flies when you have some\nBoth nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\nMy crew saved your crew\nLike niggas came through with the Groupons\nCookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\nAre you slowin' down?\nAre you holdin' down whoever held you down?\nWhoever propped you up, built the structures with you\nSwished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\nReally brothers when you needed that?\nWhen you see 'em now is it forced black?\nHail Mary on the fourth down\nHands to the sky, yeah\nPeace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\nPiece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\nPeace to the boys that we used to be though\nGeto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\nPeace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\nPiece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\nHands to the sky\n♪\nU-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\nChiraq, Palestine like\nIberville, 1995\nYou'd think that was airstrikes on outside\nI put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\nAll this space Atlanta\nPlace order McMansion and two apple pies\nI want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\nSilicon Valley, new venture is tits up\nHow do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\nSick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\nEl Chapo, de facto\nBell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\nGreen emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.00] U-N-I-T\n[00:01.59] U-N-I—\n[00:08.84] My head fatiguing off the opus\n[00:10.59] Kept it underground to focus\n[00:12.47] I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n[00:15.76] Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n[00:19.13] Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n[00:22.80] You still are no match, you get no rematch\n[00:24.97] Boy, you missed your moment\n[00:26.00] Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n[00:29.28] On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n[00:32.40] Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n[00:34.10] I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n[00:36.32] I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n[00:39.78] I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n[00:43.16] I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n[00:46.75] Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n[00:49.99] It forever seemed like time's up\n[00:51.74] When we swerved in the Honda\n[00:53.49] Now forever seems like no time\n[00:54.81] I mean, time flies when you have some\n[00:56.94] Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n[01:00.27] My crew saved your crew\n[01:01.72] Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n[01:03.69] Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n[01:07.10] Are you slowin' down?\n[01:07.95] Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n[01:10.74] Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n[01:12.49] Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n[01:14.15] Really brothers when you needed that?\n[01:16.15] When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n[01:17.48] Hail Mary on the fourth down\n[01:21.36] Hands to the sky, yeah\n[01:24.65] Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n[01:28.02] Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n[01:31.47] Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n[01:35.23] Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n[01:38.17] Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n[01:41.80] Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n[01:44.97] Hands to the sky\n[01:47.24] ♪\n[01:58.64] U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n[02:08.96] Chiraq, Palestine like\n[02:11.48] Iberville, 1995\n[02:14.55] You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n[02:18.26] I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n[02:22.49] All this space Atlanta\n[02:24.45] Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n[02:27.82] I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n[02:31.28] Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n[02:34.56] How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n[02:38.06] Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n[02:43.39] El Chapo, de facto\n[02:46.00] Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n[02:48.90] Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n[02:53.00] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: UNITY\n  artist: Frank Ocean\n  album: Endless\n  duration_ms: 174000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: U-N-I-T\n  start_ms: 0\n  end_ms: 1590\n- text: U-N-I—\n  start_ms: 1590\n  end_ms: 8840\n- text: My head fatiguing off the opus\n  start_ms: 8840\n  end_ms: 10590\n- text: Kept it underground to focus\n  start_ms: 10590\n  end_ms: 12470\n- text: I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  start_ms: 12470\n  end_ms: 15760\n- text: Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  start_ms: 15760\n  end_ms: 19130\n- text: Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  start_ms: 19130\n  end_ms: 22800\n- text: You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  start_ms: 22800\n  end_ms: 24970\n- text: Boy, you missed your moment\n  start_ms: 24970\n  end_ms: 26000\n- text: Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  start_ms: 26000\n  end_ms: 29280\n- text: On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  start_ms: 29280\n  end_ms: 32400\n- text: Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  start_ms: 32400\n  end_ms: 34100\n- text: I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  start_ms: 34100\n  end_ms: 36320\n- text: I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  start_ms: 36320\n  end_ms: 39780\n- text: I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  start_ms: 39780\n  end_ms: 43160\n- text: I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  start_ms: 43160\n  end_ms: 46750\n- text: Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  start_ms: 46750\n  end_ms: 49990\n- text: It forever seemed like time's up\n  start_ms: 49990\n  end_ms: 51740\n- text: When we swerved in the Honda\n  start_ms: 51740\n  end_ms: 53490\n- text: Now forever seems like no time\n  start_ms: 53490\n  end_ms: 54810\n- text: I mean, time flies when you have some\n  start_ms: 54810\n  end_ms: 56940\n- text: Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  start_ms: 56940\n  end_ms: 60270\n- text: My crew saved your crew\n  start_ms: 60270\n  end_ms: 61720\n- text: Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  start_ms: 61720\n  end_ms: 63690\n- text: Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  start_ms: 63690\n  end_ms: 67100\n- text: Are you slowin' down?\n  start_ms: 67100\n  end_ms: 67950\n- text: Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  start_ms: 67950\n  end_ms: 70740\n- text: Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  start_ms: 70740\n  end_ms: 72490\n- text: Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  start_ms: 72490\n  end_ms: 74150\n- text: Really brothers when you needed that?\n  start_ms: 74150\n  end_ms: 76150\n- text: When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  start_ms: 76150\n  end_ms: 77480\n- text: Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  start_ms: 77480\n  end_ms: 81360\n- text: Hands to the sky, yeah\n  start_ms: 81360\n  end_ms: 84650\n- text: Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  start_ms: 84650\n  end_ms: 88020\n- text: Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  start_ms: 88020\n  end_ms: 91470\n- text: Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  start_ms: 91470\n  end_ms: 95230\n- text: Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  start_ms: 95230\n  end_ms: 98170\n- text: Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  start_ms: 98170\n  end_ms: 101800\n- text: Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  start_ms: 101800\n  end_ms: 104970\n- text: Hands to the sky\n  start_ms: 104970\n  end_ms: 107240\n- text: ♪\n  start_ms: 107240\n  end_ms: 118640\n- text: U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  start_ms: 118640\n  end_ms: 128960\n- text: Chiraq, Palestine like\n  start_ms: 128960\n  end_ms: 131480\n- text: Iberville, 1995\n  start_ms: 131480\n  end_ms: 134550\n- text: You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  start_ms: 134550\n  end_ms: 138260\n- text: I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  start_ms: 138260\n  end_ms: 142490\n- text: All this space Atlanta\n  start_ms: 142490\n  end_ms: 144450\n- text: Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  start_ms: 144450\n  end_ms: 147820\n- text: I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  start_ms: 147820\n  end_ms: 151280\n- text: Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  start_ms: 151280\n  end_ms: 154560\n- text: How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  start_ms: 154560\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 163390\n- text: El Chapo, de facto\n  start_ms: 163390\n  end_ms: 166000\n- text: Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  start_ms: 166000\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 173000\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 173000\nplain: |\n  U-N-I-T\n  U-N-I—\n  My head fatiguing off the opus\n  Kept it underground to focus\n  I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  Boy, you missed your moment\n  Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  It forever seemed like time's up\n  When we swerved in the Honda\n  Now forever seems like no time\n  I mean, time flies when you have some\n  Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  My crew saved your crew\n  Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  Are you slowin' down?\n  Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  Really brothers when you needed that?\n  When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  Hands to the sky, yeah\n  Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  Hands to the sky\n  ♪\n  U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  Chiraq, Palestine like\n  Iberville, 1995\n  You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  All this space Atlanta\n  Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  El Chapo, de facto\n  Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n"},{"id":18715788,"name":"Unity","trackName":"Unity","artistName":"Frank Ocean","albumName":"Endless","duration":167.7236992,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"U-N-I-T\nU-N-I—\nMy head fatiguing off the opus\nKept it underground to focus\nI feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\nNiggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\nNothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\nYou still are no match, you get no rematch\nBoy, you missed your moment\nPerusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\nOn his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\nWhere's the shaman? Ayahuasca\nI had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\nI never ever trust the pre-rolled\nI never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\nI never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\nNever fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\nIt forever seemed like time's up\nWhen we swerved in the Honda\nNow forever seems like no time\nI mean, time flies when you have some\nBoth nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\nMy crew saved your crew\nLike niggas came through with the Groupons\nCookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\nAre you slowin' down?\nAre you holdin' down whoever held you down?\nWhoever propped you up, built the structures with you\nSwished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\nReally brothers when you needed that?\nWhen you see 'em now is it forced black?\nHail Mary on the fourth down\nHands to the sky, yeah\nPeace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\nPiece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\nPeace to the boys that we used to be though\nGeto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\nPeace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\nPiece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\nHands to the sky\n♪\nU-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\nChiraq, Palestine like\nIberville, 1995\nYou'd think that was airstrikes on outside\nI put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\nAll this space Atlanta\nPlace order McMansion and two apple pies\nI want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\nSilicon Valley, new venture is tits up\nHow do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\nSick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\nEl Chapo, de facto\nBell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\nGreen emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.00] U-N-I-T\n[00:01.59] U-N-I—\n[00:08.84] My head fatiguing off the opus\n[00:10.59] Kept it underground to focus\n[00:12.47] I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n[00:15.76] Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n[00:19.13] Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n[00:22.80] You still are no match, you get no rematch\n[00:24.97] Boy, you missed your moment\n[00:26.00] Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n[00:29.28] On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n[00:32.40] Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n[00:34.10] I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n[00:36.32] I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n[00:39.78] I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n[00:43.16] I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n[00:46.75] Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n[00:49.99] It forever seemed like time's up\n[00:51.74] When we swerved in the Honda\n[00:53.49] Now forever seems like no time\n[00:54.81] I mean, time flies when you have some\n[00:56.94] Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n[01:00.27] My crew saved your crew\n[01:01.72] Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n[01:03.69] Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n[01:07.10] Are you slowin' down?\n[01:07.95] Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n[01:10.74] Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n[01:12.49] Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n[01:14.15] Really brothers when you needed that?\n[01:16.15] When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n[01:17.48] Hail Mary on the fourth down\n[01:21.36] Hands to the sky, yeah\n[01:24.65] Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n[01:28.02] Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n[01:31.47] Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n[01:35.23] Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n[01:38.17] Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n[01:41.80] Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n[01:44.97] Hands to the sky\n[01:47.24] ♪\n[01:58.64] U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n[02:08.96] Chiraq, Palestine like\n[02:11.48] Iberville, 1995\n[02:14.55] You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n[02:18.26] I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n[02:22.49] All this space Atlanta\n[02:24.45] Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n[02:27.82] I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n[02:31.28] Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n[02:34.56] How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n[02:38.06] Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n[02:43.39] El Chapo, de facto\n[02:46.00] Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n[02:48.90] Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n[02:53.00] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Unity\n  artist: Frank Ocean\n  album: Endless\n  duration_ms: 167724\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: U-N-I-T\n  start_ms: 0\n  end_ms: 1590\n- text: U-N-I—\n  start_ms: 1590\n  end_ms: 8840\n- text: My head fatiguing off the opus\n  start_ms: 8840\n  end_ms: 10590\n- text: Kept it underground to focus\n  start_ms: 10590\n  end_ms: 12470\n- text: I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  start_ms: 12470\n  end_ms: 15760\n- text: Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  start_ms: 15760\n  end_ms: 19130\n- text: Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  start_ms: 19130\n  end_ms: 22800\n- text: You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  start_ms: 22800\n  end_ms: 24970\n- text: Boy, you missed your moment\n  start_ms: 24970\n  end_ms: 26000\n- text: Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  start_ms: 26000\n  end_ms: 29280\n- text: On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  start_ms: 29280\n  end_ms: 32400\n- text: Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  start_ms: 32400\n  end_ms: 34100\n- text: I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  start_ms: 34100\n  end_ms: 36320\n- text: I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  start_ms: 36320\n  end_ms: 39780\n- text: I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  start_ms: 39780\n  end_ms: 43160\n- text: I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  start_ms: 43160\n  end_ms: 46750\n- text: Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  start_ms: 46750\n  end_ms: 49990\n- text: It forever seemed like time's up\n  start_ms: 49990\n  end_ms: 51740\n- text: When we swerved in the Honda\n  start_ms: 51740\n  end_ms: 53490\n- text: Now forever seems like no time\n  start_ms: 53490\n  end_ms: 54810\n- text: I mean, time flies when you have some\n  start_ms: 54810\n  end_ms: 56940\n- text: Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  start_ms: 56940\n  end_ms: 60270\n- text: My crew saved your crew\n  start_ms: 60270\n  end_ms: 61720\n- text: Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  start_ms: 61720\n  end_ms: 63690\n- text: Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  start_ms: 63690\n  end_ms: 67100\n- text: Are you slowin' down?\n  start_ms: 67100\n  end_ms: 67950\n- text: Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  start_ms: 67950\n  end_ms: 70740\n- text: Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  start_ms: 70740\n  end_ms: 72490\n- text: Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  start_ms: 72490\n  end_ms: 74150\n- text: Really brothers when you needed that?\n  start_ms: 74150\n  end_ms: 76150\n- text: When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  start_ms: 76150\n  end_ms: 77480\n- text: Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  start_ms: 77480\n  end_ms: 81360\n- text: Hands to the sky, yeah\n  start_ms: 81360\n  end_ms: 84650\n- text: Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  start_ms: 84650\n  end_ms: 88020\n- text: Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  start_ms: 88020\n  end_ms: 91470\n- text: Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  start_ms: 91470\n  end_ms: 95230\n- text: Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  start_ms: 95230\n  end_ms: 98170\n- text: Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  start_ms: 98170\n  end_ms: 101800\n- text: Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  start_ms: 101800\n  end_ms: 104970\n- text: Hands to the sky\n  start_ms: 104970\n  end_ms: 107240\n- text: ♪\n  start_ms: 107240\n  end_ms: 118640\n- text: U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  start_ms: 118640\n  end_ms: 128960\n- text: Chiraq, Palestine like\n  start_ms: 128960\n  end_ms: 131480\n- text: Iberville, 1995\n  start_ms: 131480\n  end_ms: 134550\n- text: You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  start_ms: 134550\n  end_ms: 138260\n- text: I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  start_ms: 138260\n  end_ms: 142490\n- text: All this space Atlanta\n  start_ms: 142490\n  end_ms: 144450\n- text: Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  start_ms: 144450\n  end_ms: 147820\n- text: I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  start_ms: 147820\n  end_ms: 151280\n- text: Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  start_ms: 151280\n  end_ms: 154560\n- text: How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  start_ms: 154560\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 163390\n- text: El Chapo, de facto\n  start_ms: 163390\n  end_ms: 166000\n- text: Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  start_ms: 166000\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 173000\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 173000\nplain: |\n  U-N-I-T\n  U-N-I—\n  My head fatiguing off the opus\n  Kept it underground to focus\n  I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  Boy, you missed your moment\n  Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  It forever seemed like time's up\n  When we swerved in the Honda\n  Now forever seems like no time\n  I mean, time flies when you have some\n  Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  My crew saved your crew\n  Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  Are you slowin' down?\n  Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  Really brothers when you needed that?\n  When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  Hands to the sky, yeah\n  Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  Hands to the sky\n  ♪\n  U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  Chiraq, Palestine like\n  Iberville, 1995\n  You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  All this space Atlanta\n  Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  El Chapo, de facto\n  Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n"},{"id":20543824,"name":"Unity","trackName":"Unity","artistName":"Frank Ocean","albumName":"Endless","duration":207.24,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"U-N-I-T\nU-N-I—\nMy head fatiguing off the opus\nKept it underground to focus\nI feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\nNiggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\nNothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\nYou still are no match, you get no rematch\nBoy, you missed your moment\nPerusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\nOn his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\nWhere's the shaman? Ayahuasca\nI had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\nI never ever trust the pre-rolled\nI never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\nI never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\nNever fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\nIt forever seemed like time's up\nWhen we swerved in the Honda\nNow forever seems like no time\nI mean, time flies when you have some\nBoth nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\nMy crew saved your crew\nLike niggas came through with the Groupons\nCookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\nAre you slowin' down?\nAre you holdin' down whoever held you down?\nWhoever propped you up, built the structures with you\nSwished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\nReally brothers when you needed that?\nWhen you see 'em now is it forced black?\nHail Mary on the fourth down\nHands to the sky, yeah\nPeace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\nPiece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\nPeace to the boys that we used to be though\nGeto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\nPeace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\nPiece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\nHands to the sky\n♪\nU-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\nChiraq, Palestine like\nIberville, 1995\nYou'd think that was airstrikes on outside\nI put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\nAll this space Atlanta\nPlace order McMansion and two apple pies\nI want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\nSilicon Valley, new venture is tits up\nHow do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\nSick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\nEl Chapo, de facto\nBell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\nGreen emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.00] U-N-I-T\n[00:01.59] U-N-I—\n[00:08.84] My head fatiguing off the opus\n[00:10.59] Kept it underground to focus\n[00:12.47] I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n[00:15.76] Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n[00:19.13] Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n[00:22.80] You still are no match, you get no rematch\n[00:24.97] Boy, you missed your moment\n[00:26.00] Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n[00:29.28] On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n[00:32.40] Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n[00:34.10] I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n[00:36.32] I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n[00:39.78] I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n[00:43.16] I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n[00:46.75] Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n[00:49.99] It forever seemed like time's up\n[00:51.74] When we swerved in the Honda\n[00:53.49] Now forever seems like no time\n[00:54.81] I mean, time flies when you have some\n[00:56.94] Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n[01:00.27] My crew saved your crew\n[01:01.72] Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n[01:03.69] Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n[01:07.10] Are you slowin' down?\n[01:07.95] Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n[01:10.74] Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n[01:12.49] Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n[01:14.15] Really brothers when you needed that?\n[01:16.15] When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n[01:17.48] Hail Mary on the fourth down\n[01:21.36] Hands to the sky, yeah\n[01:24.65] Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n[01:28.02] Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n[01:31.47] Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n[01:35.23] Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n[01:38.17] Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n[01:41.80] Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n[01:44.97] Hands to the sky\n[01:47.24] ♪\n[01:58.64] U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n[02:08.96] Chiraq, Palestine like\n[02:11.48] Iberville, 1995\n[02:14.55] You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n[02:18.26] I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n[02:22.49] All this space Atlanta\n[02:24.45] Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n[02:27.82] I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n[02:31.28] Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n[02:34.56] How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n[02:38.06] Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n[02:43.39] El Chapo, de facto\n[02:46.00] Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n[02:48.90] Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n[02:53.00] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Unity\n  artist: Frank Ocean\n  album: Endless\n  duration_ms: 207240\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: U-N-I-T\n  start_ms: 0\n  end_ms: 1590\n- text: U-N-I—\n  start_ms: 1590\n  end_ms: 8840\n- text: My head fatiguing off the opus\n  start_ms: 8840\n  end_ms: 10590\n- text: Kept it underground to focus\n  start_ms: 10590\n  end_ms: 12470\n- text: I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  start_ms: 12470\n  end_ms: 15760\n- text: Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  start_ms: 15760\n  end_ms: 19130\n- text: Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  start_ms: 19130\n  end_ms: 22800\n- text: You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  start_ms: 22800\n  end_ms: 24970\n- text: Boy, you missed your moment\n  start_ms: 24970\n  end_ms: 26000\n- text: Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  start_ms: 26000\n  end_ms: 29280\n- text: On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  start_ms: 29280\n  end_ms: 32400\n- text: Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  start_ms: 32400\n  end_ms: 34100\n- text: I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  start_ms: 34100\n  end_ms: 36320\n- text: I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  start_ms: 36320\n  end_ms: 39780\n- text: I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  start_ms: 39780\n  end_ms: 43160\n- text: I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  start_ms: 43160\n  end_ms: 46750\n- text: Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  start_ms: 46750\n  end_ms: 49990\n- text: It forever seemed like time's up\n  start_ms: 49990\n  end_ms: 51740\n- text: When we swerved in the Honda\n  start_ms: 51740\n  end_ms: 53490\n- text: Now forever seems like no time\n  start_ms: 53490\n  end_ms: 54810\n- text: I mean, time flies when you have some\n  start_ms: 54810\n  end_ms: 56940\n- text: Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  start_ms: 56940\n  end_ms: 60270\n- text: My crew saved your crew\n  start_ms: 60270\n  end_ms: 61720\n- text: Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  start_ms: 61720\n  end_ms: 63690\n- text: Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  start_ms: 63690\n  end_ms: 67100\n- text: Are you slowin' down?\n  start_ms: 67100\n  end_ms: 67950\n- text: Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  start_ms: 67950\n  end_ms: 70740\n- text: Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  start_ms: 70740\n  end_ms: 72490\n- text: Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  start_ms: 72490\n  end_ms: 74150\n- text: Really brothers when you needed that?\n  start_ms: 74150\n  end_ms: 76150\n- text: When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  start_ms: 76150\n  end_ms: 77480\n- text: Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  start_ms: 77480\n  end_ms: 81360\n- text: Hands to the sky, yeah\n  start_ms: 81360\n  end_ms: 84650\n- text: Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  start_ms: 84650\n  end_ms: 88020\n- text: Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  start_ms: 88020\n  end_ms: 91470\n- text: Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  start_ms: 91470\n  end_ms: 95230\n- text: Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  start_ms: 95230\n  end_ms: 98170\n- text: Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  start_ms: 98170\n  end_ms: 101800\n- text: Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  start_ms: 101800\n  end_ms: 104970\n- text: Hands to the sky\n  start_ms: 104970\n  end_ms: 107240\n- text: ♪\n  start_ms: 107240\n  end_ms: 118640\n- text: U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  start_ms: 118640\n  end_ms: 128960\n- text: Chiraq, Palestine like\n  start_ms: 128960\n  end_ms: 131480\n- text: Iberville, 1995\n  start_ms: 131480\n  end_ms: 134550\n- text: You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  start_ms: 134550\n  end_ms: 138260\n- text: I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  start_ms: 138260\n  end_ms: 142490\n- text: All this space Atlanta\n  start_ms: 142490\n  end_ms: 144450\n- text: Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  start_ms: 144450\n  end_ms: 147820\n- text: I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  start_ms: 147820\n  end_ms: 151280\n- text: Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  start_ms: 151280\n  end_ms: 154560\n- text: How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  start_ms: 154560\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 163390\n- text: El Chapo, de facto\n  start_ms: 163390\n  end_ms: 166000\n- text: Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  start_ms: 166000\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 173000\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 173000\nplain: |\n  U-N-I-T\n  U-N-I—\n  My head fatiguing off the opus\n  Kept it underground to focus\n  I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  Boy, you missed your moment\n  Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  It forever seemed like time's up\n  When we swerved in the Honda\n  Now forever seems like no time\n  I mean, time flies when you have some\n  Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  My crew saved your crew\n  Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  Are you slowin' down?\n  Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  Really brothers when you needed that?\n  When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  Hands to the sky, yeah\n  Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  Hands to the sky\n  ♪\n  U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  Chiraq, Palestine like\n  Iberville, 1995\n  You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  All this space Atlanta\n  Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  El Chapo, de facto\n  Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n"},{"id":22416368,"name":"Unity","trackName":"Unity","artistName":"Frank Ocean","albumName":"Endless","duration":86.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"U-N-I-T\nU-N-I—\nMy head fatiguing off the opus\nKept it underground to focus\nI feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\nNiggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\nNothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\nYou still are no match, you get no rematch\nBoy, you missed your moment\nPerusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\nOn his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\nWhere's the shaman? Ayahuasca\nI had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\nI never ever trust the pre-rolled\nI never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\nI never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\nNever fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\nIt forever seemed like time's up\nWhen we swerved in the Honda\nNow forever seems like no time\nI mean, time flies when you have some\nBoth nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\nMy crew saved your crew\nLike niggas came through with the Groupons\nCookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\nAre you slowin' down?\nAre you holdin' down whoever held you down?\nWhoever propped you up, built the structures with you\nSwished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\nReally brothers when you needed that?\nWhen you see 'em now is it forced black?\nHail Mary on the fourth down\nHands to the sky, yeah\nPeace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\nPiece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\nPeace to the boys that we used to be though\nGeto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\nPeace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\nPiece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\nHands to the sky\n♪\nU-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\nChiraq, Palestine like\nIberville, 1995\nYou'd think that was airstrikes on outside\nI put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\nAll this space Atlanta\nPlace order McMansion and two apple pies\nI want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\nSilicon Valley, new venture is tits up\nHow do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\nSick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\nEl Chapo, de facto\nBell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\nGreen emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.00] U-N-I-T\n[00:01.59] U-N-I—\n[00:08.84] My head fatiguing off the opus\n[00:10.59] Kept it underground to focus\n[00:12.47] I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n[00:15.76] Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n[00:19.13] Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n[00:22.80] You still are no match, you get no rematch\n[00:24.97] Boy, you missed your moment\n[00:26.00] Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n[00:29.28] On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n[00:32.40] Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n[00:34.10] I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n[00:36.32] I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n[00:39.78] I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n[00:43.16] I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n[00:46.75] Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n[00:49.99] It forever seemed like time's up\n[00:51.74] When we swerved in the Honda\n[00:53.49] Now forever seems like no time\n[00:54.81] I mean, time flies when you have some\n[00:56.94] Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n[01:00.27] My crew saved your crew\n[01:01.72] Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n[01:03.69] Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n[01:07.10] Are you slowin' down?\n[01:07.95] Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n[01:10.74] Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n[01:12.49] Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n[01:14.15] Really brothers when you needed that?\n[01:16.15] When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n[01:17.48] Hail Mary on the fourth down\n[01:21.36] Hands to the sky, yeah\n[01:24.65] Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n[01:28.02] Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n[01:31.47] Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n[01:35.23] Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n[01:38.17] Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n[01:41.80] Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n[01:44.97] Hands to the sky\n[01:47.24] ♪\n[01:58.64] U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n[02:08.96] Chiraq, Palestine like\n[02:11.48] Iberville, 1995\n[02:14.55] You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n[02:18.26] I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n[02:22.49] All this space Atlanta\n[02:24.45] Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n[02:27.82] I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n[02:31.28] Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n[02:34.56] How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n[02:38.06] Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n[02:43.39] El Chapo, de facto\n[02:46.00] Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n[02:48.90] Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n[02:53.00] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Unity\n  artist: Frank Ocean\n  album: Endless\n  duration_ms: 86000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: U-N-I-T\n  start_ms: 0\n  end_ms: 1590\n- text: U-N-I—\n  start_ms: 1590\n  end_ms: 8840\n- text: My head fatiguing off the opus\n  start_ms: 8840\n  end_ms: 10590\n- text: Kept it underground to focus\n  start_ms: 10590\n  end_ms: 12470\n- text: I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  start_ms: 12470\n  end_ms: 15760\n- text: Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  start_ms: 15760\n  end_ms: 19130\n- text: Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  start_ms: 19130\n  end_ms: 22800\n- text: You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  start_ms: 22800\n  end_ms: 24970\n- text: Boy, you missed your moment\n  start_ms: 24970\n  end_ms: 26000\n- text: Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  start_ms: 26000\n  end_ms: 29280\n- text: On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  start_ms: 29280\n  end_ms: 32400\n- text: Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  start_ms: 32400\n  end_ms: 34100\n- text: I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  start_ms: 34100\n  end_ms: 36320\n- text: I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  start_ms: 36320\n  end_ms: 39780\n- text: I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  start_ms: 39780\n  end_ms: 43160\n- text: I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  start_ms: 43160\n  end_ms: 46750\n- text: Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  start_ms: 46750\n  end_ms: 49990\n- text: It forever seemed like time's up\n  start_ms: 49990\n  end_ms: 51740\n- text: When we swerved in the Honda\n  start_ms: 51740\n  end_ms: 53490\n- text: Now forever seems like no time\n  start_ms: 53490\n  end_ms: 54810\n- text: I mean, time flies when you have some\n  start_ms: 54810\n  end_ms: 56940\n- text: Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  start_ms: 56940\n  end_ms: 60270\n- text: My crew saved your crew\n  start_ms: 60270\n  end_ms: 61720\n- text: Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  start_ms: 61720\n  end_ms: 63690\n- text: Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  start_ms: 63690\n  end_ms: 67100\n- text: Are you slowin' down?\n  start_ms: 67100\n  end_ms: 67950\n- text: Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  start_ms: 67950\n  end_ms: 70740\n- text: Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  start_ms: 70740\n  end_ms: 72490\n- text: Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  start_ms: 72490\n  end_ms: 74150\n- text: Really brothers when you needed that?\n  start_ms: 74150\n  end_ms: 76150\n- text: When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  start_ms: 76150\n  end_ms: 77480\n- text: Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  start_ms: 77480\n  end_ms: 81360\n- text: Hands to the sky, yeah\n  start_ms: 81360\n  end_ms: 84650\n- text: Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  start_ms: 84650\n  end_ms: 88020\n- text: Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  start_ms: 88020\n  end_ms: 91470\n- text: Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  start_ms: 91470\n  end_ms: 95230\n- text: Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  start_ms: 95230\n  end_ms: 98170\n- text: Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  start_ms: 98170\n  end_ms: 101800\n- text: Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  start_ms: 101800\n  end_ms: 104970\n- text: Hands to the sky\n  start_ms: 104970\n  end_ms: 107240\n- text: ♪\n  start_ms: 107240\n  end_ms: 118640\n- text: U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  start_ms: 118640\n  end_ms: 128960\n- text: Chiraq, Palestine like\n  start_ms: 128960\n  end_ms: 131480\n- text: Iberville, 1995\n  start_ms: 131480\n  end_ms: 134550\n- text: You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  start_ms: 134550\n  end_ms: 138260\n- text: I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  start_ms: 138260\n  end_ms: 142490\n- text: All this space Atlanta\n  start_ms: 142490\n  end_ms: 144450\n- text: Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  start_ms: 144450\n  end_ms: 147820\n- text: I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  start_ms: 147820\n  end_ms: 151280\n- text: Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  start_ms: 151280\n  end_ms: 154560\n- text: How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  start_ms: 154560\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 163390\n- text: El Chapo, de facto\n  start_ms: 163390\n  end_ms: 166000\n- text: Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  start_ms: 166000\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 173000\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 173000\nplain: |\n  U-N-I-T\n  U-N-I—\n  My head fatiguing off the opus\n  Kept it underground to focus\n  I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  Boy, you missed your moment\n  Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  It forever seemed like time's up\n  When we swerved in the Honda\n  Now forever seems like no time\n  I mean, time flies when you have some\n  Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  My crew saved your crew\n  Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  Are you slowin' down?\n  Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  Really brothers when you needed that?\n  When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  Hands to the sky, yeah\n  Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  Hands to the sky\n  ♪\n  U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  Chiraq, Palestine like\n  Iberville, 1995\n  You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  All this space Atlanta\n  Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  El Chapo, de facto\n  Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n"},{"id":34905257,"name":"Unity","trackName":"Unity","artistName":"Frank Ocean","albumName":"Endless","duration":177.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"U-N-I-T\nU-N-I—\nMy head fatiguing off the opus\nKept it underground to focus\nI feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\nNiggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\nNothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\nYou still are no match, you get no rematch\nBoy, you missed your moment\nPerusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\nOn his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\nWhere's the shaman? Ayahuasca\nI had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\nI never ever trust the pre-rolled\nI never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\nI never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\nNever fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\nIt forever seemed like time's up\nWhen we swerved in the Honda\nNow forever seems like no time\nI mean, time flies when you have some\nBoth nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\nMy crew saved your crew\nLike niggas came through with the Groupons\nCookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\nAre you slowin' down?\nAre you holdin' down whoever held you down?\nWhoever propped you up, built the structures with you\nSwished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\nReally brothers when you needed that?\nWhen you see 'em now is it forced black?\nHail Mary on the fourth down\nHands to the sky, yeah\nPeace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\nPiece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\nPeace to the boys that we used to be though\nGeto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\nPeace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\nPiece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\nHands to the sky\n♪\nU-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\nChiraq, Palestine like\nIberville, 1995\nYou'd think that was airstrikes on outside\nI put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\nAll this space Atlanta\nPlace order McMansion and two apple pies\nI want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\nSilicon Valley, new venture is tits up\nHow do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\nSick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\nEl Chapo, de facto\nBell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\nGreen emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.00] U-N-I-T\n[00:01.59] U-N-I—\n[00:08.84] My head fatiguing off the opus\n[00:10.59] Kept it underground to focus\n[00:12.47] I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n[00:15.76] Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n[00:19.13] Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n[00:22.80] You still are no match, you get no rematch\n[00:24.97] Boy, you missed your moment\n[00:26.00] Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n[00:29.28] On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n[00:32.40] Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n[00:34.10] I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n[00:36.32] I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n[00:39.78] I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n[00:43.16] I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n[00:46.75] Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n[00:49.99] It forever seemed like time's up\n[00:51.74] When we swerved in the Honda\n[00:53.49] Now forever seems like no time\n[00:54.81] I mean, time flies when you have some\n[00:56.94] Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n[01:00.27] My crew saved your crew\n[01:01.72] Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n[01:03.69] Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n[01:07.10] Are you slowin' down?\n[01:07.95] Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n[01:10.74] Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n[01:12.49] Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n[01:14.15] Really brothers when you needed that?\n[01:16.15] When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n[01:17.48] Hail Mary on the fourth down\n[01:21.36] Hands to the sky, yeah\n[01:24.65] Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n[01:28.02] Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n[01:31.47] Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n[01:35.23] Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n[01:38.17] Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n[01:41.80] Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n[01:44.97] Hands to the sky\n[01:47.24] ♪\n[01:58.64] U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n[02:08.96] Chiraq, Palestine like\n[02:11.48] Iberville, 1995\n[02:14.55] You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n[02:18.26] I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n[02:22.49] All this space Atlanta\n[02:24.45] Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n[02:27.82] I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n[02:31.28] Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n[02:34.56] How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n[02:38.06] Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n[02:43.39] El Chapo, de facto\n[02:46.00] Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n[02:48.90] Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n[02:53.00] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Unity\n  artist: Frank Ocean\n  album: Endless\n  duration_ms: 177000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: U-N-I-T\n  start_ms: 0\n  end_ms: 1590\n- text: U-N-I—\n  start_ms: 1590\n  end_ms: 8840\n- text: My head fatiguing off the opus\n  start_ms: 8840\n  end_ms: 10590\n- text: Kept it underground to focus\n  start_ms: 10590\n  end_ms: 12470\n- text: I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  start_ms: 12470\n  end_ms: 15760\n- text: Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  start_ms: 15760\n  end_ms: 19130\n- text: Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  start_ms: 19130\n  end_ms: 22800\n- text: You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  start_ms: 22800\n  end_ms: 24970\n- text: Boy, you missed your moment\n  start_ms: 24970\n  end_ms: 26000\n- text: Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  start_ms: 26000\n  end_ms: 29280\n- text: On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  start_ms: 29280\n  end_ms: 32400\n- text: Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  start_ms: 32400\n  end_ms: 34100\n- text: I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  start_ms: 34100\n  end_ms: 36320\n- text: I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  start_ms: 36320\n  end_ms: 39780\n- text: I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  start_ms: 39780\n  end_ms: 43160\n- text: I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  start_ms: 43160\n  end_ms: 46750\n- text: Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  start_ms: 46750\n  end_ms: 49990\n- text: It forever seemed like time's up\n  start_ms: 49990\n  end_ms: 51740\n- text: When we swerved in the Honda\n  start_ms: 51740\n  end_ms: 53490\n- text: Now forever seems like no time\n  start_ms: 53490\n  end_ms: 54810\n- text: I mean, time flies when you have some\n  start_ms: 54810\n  end_ms: 56940\n- text: Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  start_ms: 56940\n  end_ms: 60270\n- text: My crew saved your crew\n  start_ms: 60270\n  end_ms: 61720\n- text: Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  start_ms: 61720\n  end_ms: 63690\n- text: Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  start_ms: 63690\n  end_ms: 67100\n- text: Are you slowin' down?\n  start_ms: 67100\n  end_ms: 67950\n- text: Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  start_ms: 67950\n  end_ms: 70740\n- text: Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  start_ms: 70740\n  end_ms: 72490\n- text: Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  start_ms: 72490\n  end_ms: 74150\n- text: Really brothers when you needed that?\n  start_ms: 74150\n  end_ms: 76150\n- text: When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  start_ms: 76150\n  end_ms: 77480\n- text: Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  start_ms: 77480\n  end_ms: 81360\n- text: Hands to the sky, yeah\n  start_ms: 81360\n  end_ms: 84650\n- text: Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  start_ms: 84650\n  end_ms: 88020\n- text: Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  start_ms: 88020\n  end_ms: 91470\n- text: Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  start_ms: 91470\n  end_ms: 95230\n- text: Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  start_ms: 95230\n  end_ms: 98170\n- text: Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  start_ms: 98170\n  end_ms: 101800\n- text: Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  start_ms: 101800\n  end_ms: 104970\n- text: Hands to the sky\n  start_ms: 104970\n  end_ms: 107240\n- text: ♪\n  start_ms: 107240\n  end_ms: 118640\n- text: U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  start_ms: 118640\n  end_ms: 128960\n- text: Chiraq, Palestine like\n  start_ms: 128960\n  end_ms: 131480\n- text: Iberville, 1995\n  start_ms: 131480\n  end_ms: 134550\n- text: You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  start_ms: 134550\n  end_ms: 138260\n- text: I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  start_ms: 138260\n  end_ms: 142490\n- text: All this space Atlanta\n  start_ms: 142490\n  end_ms: 144450\n- text: Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  start_ms: 144450\n  end_ms: 147820\n- text: I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  start_ms: 147820\n  end_ms: 151280\n- text: Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  start_ms: 151280\n  end_ms: 154560\n- text: How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  start_ms: 154560\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 163390\n- text: El Chapo, de facto\n  start_ms: 163390\n  end_ms: 166000\n- text: Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  start_ms: 166000\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 173000\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 173000\nplain: |\n  U-N-I-T\n  U-N-I—\n  My head fatiguing off the opus\n  Kept it underground to focus\n  I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  Boy, you missed your moment\n  Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  It forever seemed like time's up\n  When we swerved in the Honda\n  Now forever seems like no time\n  I mean, time flies when you have some\n  Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  My crew saved your crew\n  Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  Are you slowin' down?\n  Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  Really brothers when you needed that?\n  When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  Hands to the sky, yeah\n  Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  Hands to the sky\n  ♪\n  U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  Chiraq, Palestine like\n  Iberville, 1995\n  You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  All this space Atlanta\n  Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  El Chapo, de facto\n  Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n"},{"id":34289119,"name":"Unity","trackName":"Unity","artistName":"Frank Ocean","albumName":"ENDLESS","duration":189.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"U-N-I-T\nU-N-I—\nMy head fatiguing off the opus\nKept it underground to focus\nI feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\nNiggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\nNothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\nYou still are no match, you get no rematch\nBoy, you missed your moment\nPerusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\nOn his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\nWhere's the shaman? Ayahuasca\nI had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\nI never ever trust the pre-rolled\nI never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\nI never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\nNever fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\nIt forever seemed like time's up\nWhen we swerved in the Honda\nNow forever seems like no time\nI mean, time flies when you have some\nBoth nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\nMy crew saved your crew\nLike niggas came through with the Groupons\nCookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\nAre you slowin' down?\nAre you holdin' down whoever held you down?\nWhoever propped you up, built the structures with you\nSwished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\nReally brothers when you needed that?\nWhen you see 'em now is it forced black?\nHail Mary on the fourth down\nHands to the sky, yeah\nPeace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\nPiece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\nPeace to the boys that we used to be though\nGeto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\nPeace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\nPiece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\nHands to the sky\n♪\nU-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\nChiraq, Palestine like\nIberville, 1995\nYou'd think that was airstrikes on outside\nI put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\nAll this space Atlanta\nPlace order McMansion and two apple pies\nI want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\nSilicon Valley, new venture is tits up\nHow do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\nSick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\nEl Chapo, de facto\nBell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\nGreen emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.00] U-N-I-T\n[00:01.59] U-N-I—\n[00:08.84] My head fatiguing off the opus\n[00:10.59] Kept it underground to focus\n[00:12.47] I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n[00:15.76] Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n[00:19.13] Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n[00:22.80] You still are no match, you get no rematch\n[00:24.97] Boy, you missed your moment\n[00:26.00] Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n[00:29.28] On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n[00:32.40] Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n[00:34.10] I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n[00:36.32] I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n[00:39.78] I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n[00:43.16] I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n[00:46.75] Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n[00:49.99] It forever seemed like time's up\n[00:51.74] When we swerved in the Honda\n[00:53.49] Now forever seems like no time\n[00:54.81] I mean, time flies when you have some\n[00:56.94] Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n[01:00.27] My crew saved your crew\n[01:01.72] Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n[01:03.69] Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n[01:07.10] Are you slowin' down?\n[01:07.95] Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n[01:10.74] Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n[01:12.49] Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n[01:14.15] Really brothers when you needed that?\n[01:16.15] When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n[01:17.48] Hail Mary on the fourth down\n[01:21.36] Hands to the sky, yeah\n[01:24.65] Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n[01:28.02] Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n[01:31.47] Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n[01:35.23] Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n[01:38.17] Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n[01:41.80] Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n[01:44.97] Hands to the sky\n[01:47.24] ♪\n[01:58.64] U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n[02:08.96] Chiraq, Palestine like\n[02:11.48] Iberville, 1995\n[02:14.55] You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n[02:18.26] I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n[02:22.49] All this space Atlanta\n[02:24.45] Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n[02:27.82] I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n[02:31.28] Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n[02:34.56] How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n[02:38.06] Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n[02:43.39] El Chapo, de facto\n[02:46.00] Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n[02:48.90] Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n[02:53.00] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Unity\n  artist: Frank Ocean\n  album: ENDLESS\n  duration_ms: 189000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: U-N-I-T\n  start_ms: 0\n  end_ms: 1590\n- text: U-N-I—\n  start_ms: 1590\n  end_ms: 8840\n- text: My head fatiguing off the opus\n  start_ms: 8840\n  end_ms: 10590\n- text: Kept it underground to focus\n  start_ms: 10590\n  end_ms: 12470\n- text: I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  start_ms: 12470\n  end_ms: 15760\n- text: Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  start_ms: 15760\n  end_ms: 19130\n- text: Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  start_ms: 19130\n  end_ms: 22800\n- text: You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  start_ms: 22800\n  end_ms: 24970\n- text: Boy, you missed your moment\n  start_ms: 24970\n  end_ms: 26000\n- text: Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  start_ms: 26000\n  end_ms: 29280\n- text: On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  start_ms: 29280\n  end_ms: 32400\n- text: Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  start_ms: 32400\n  end_ms: 34100\n- text: I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  start_ms: 34100\n  end_ms: 36320\n- text: I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  start_ms: 36320\n  end_ms: 39780\n- text: I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  start_ms: 39780\n  end_ms: 43160\n- text: I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  start_ms: 43160\n  end_ms: 46750\n- text: Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  start_ms: 46750\n  end_ms: 49990\n- text: It forever seemed like time's up\n  start_ms: 49990\n  end_ms: 51740\n- text: When we swerved in the Honda\n  start_ms: 51740\n  end_ms: 53490\n- text: Now forever seems like no time\n  start_ms: 53490\n  end_ms: 54810\n- text: I mean, time flies when you have some\n  start_ms: 54810\n  end_ms: 56940\n- text: Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  start_ms: 56940\n  end_ms: 60270\n- text: My crew saved your crew\n  start_ms: 60270\n  end_ms: 61720\n- text: Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  start_ms: 61720\n  end_ms: 63690\n- text: Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  start_ms: 63690\n  end_ms: 67100\n- text: Are you slowin' down?\n  start_ms: 67100\n  end_ms: 67950\n- text: Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  start_ms: 67950\n  end_ms: 70740\n- text: Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  start_ms: 70740\n  end_ms: 72490\n- text: Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  start_ms: 72490\n  end_ms: 74150\n- text: Really brothers when you needed that?\n  start_ms: 74150\n  end_ms: 76150\n- text: When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  start_ms: 76150\n  end_ms: 77480\n- text: Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  start_ms: 77480\n  end_ms: 81360\n- text: Hands to the sky, yeah\n  start_ms: 81360\n  end_ms: 84650\n- text: Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  start_ms: 84650\n  end_ms: 88020\n- text: Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  start_ms: 88020\n  end_ms: 91470\n- text: Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  start_ms: 91470\n  end_ms: 95230\n- text: Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  start_ms: 95230\n  end_ms: 98170\n- text: Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  start_ms: 98170\n  end_ms: 101800\n- text: Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  start_ms: 101800\n  end_ms: 104970\n- text: Hands to the sky\n  start_ms: 104970\n  end_ms: 107240\n- text: ♪\n  start_ms: 107240\n  end_ms: 118640\n- text: U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  start_ms: 118640\n  end_ms: 128960\n- text: Chiraq, Palestine like\n  start_ms: 128960\n  end_ms: 131480\n- text: Iberville, 1995\n  start_ms: 131480\n  end_ms: 134550\n- text: You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  start_ms: 134550\n  end_ms: 138260\n- text: I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  start_ms: 138260\n  end_ms: 142490\n- text: All this space Atlanta\n  start_ms: 142490\n  end_ms: 144450\n- text: Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  start_ms: 144450\n  end_ms: 147820\n- text: I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  start_ms: 147820\n  end_ms: 151280\n- text: Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  start_ms: 151280\n  end_ms: 154560\n- text: How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  start_ms: 154560\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 163390\n- text: El Chapo, de facto\n  start_ms: 163390\n  end_ms: 166000\n- text: Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  start_ms: 166000\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 173000\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 173000\nplain: |\n  U-N-I-T\n  U-N-I—\n  My head fatiguing off the opus\n  Kept it underground to focus\n  I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  Boy, you missed your moment\n  Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  It forever seemed like time's up\n  When we swerved in the Honda\n  Now forever seems like no time\n  I mean, time flies when you have some\n  Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  My crew saved your crew\n  Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  Are you slowin' down?\n  Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  Really brothers when you needed that?\n  When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  Hands to the sky, yeah\n  Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  Hands to the sky\n  ♪\n  U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  Chiraq, Palestine like\n  Iberville, 1995\n  You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  All this space Atlanta\n  Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  El Chapo, de facto\n  Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n"},{"id":37660078,"name":"Unity","trackName":"Unity","artistName":"Frank Ocean","albumName":"Endless","duration":230.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"U-N-I-T\nU-N-I—\nMy head fatiguing off the opus\nKept it underground to focus\nI feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\nNiggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\nNothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\nYou still are no match, you get no rematch\nBoy, you missed your moment\nPerusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\nOn his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\nWhere's the shaman? Ayahuasca\nI had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\nI never ever trust the pre-rolled\nI never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\nI never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\nNever fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\nIt forever seemed like time's up\nWhen we swerved in the Honda\nNow forever seems like no time\nI mean, time flies when you have some\nBoth nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\nMy crew saved your crew\nLike niggas came through with the Groupons\nCookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\nAre you slowin' down?\nAre you holdin' down whoever held you down?\nWhoever propped you up, built the structures with you\nSwished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\nReally brothers when you needed that?\nWhen you see 'em now is it forced black?\nHail Mary on the fourth down\nHands to the sky, yeah\nPeace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\nPiece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\nPeace to the boys that we used to be though\nGeto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\nPeace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\nPiece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\nHands to the sky\n♪\nU-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\nChiraq, Palestine like\nIberville, 1995\nYou'd think that was airstrikes on outside\nI put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\nAll this space Atlanta\nPlace order McMansion and two apple pies\nI want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\nSilicon Valley, new venture is tits up\nHow do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\nSick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\nEl Chapo, de facto\nBell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\nGreen emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.00]U-N-I-T\n[00:01.59]U-N-I—\n[00:08.84]My head fatiguing off the opus\n[00:10.59]Kept it underground to focus\n[00:12.47]I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n[00:15.76]Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n[00:19.13]Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n[00:22.80]You still are no match, you get no rematch\n[00:24.97]Boy, you missed your moment\n[00:26.00]Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n[00:29.28]On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n[00:32.40]Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n[00:34.10]I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n[00:36.32]I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n[00:39.78]I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n[00:43.16]I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n[00:46.75]Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n[00:49.99]It forever seemed like time's up\n[00:51.74]When we swerved in the Honda\n[00:53.49]Now forever seems like no time\n[00:54.81]I mean, time flies when you have some\n[00:56.94]Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n[01:00.27]My crew saved your crew\n[01:01.72]Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n[01:03.69]Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n[01:07.10]Are you slowin' down?\n[01:07.95]Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n[01:10.74]Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n[01:12.49]Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n[01:14.15]Really brothers when you needed that?\n[01:16.15]When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n[01:17.48]Hail Mary on the fourth down\n[01:21.36]Hands to the sky, yeah\n[01:24.65]Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n[01:28.02]Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n[01:31.47]Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n[01:35.23]Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n[01:38.17]Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n[01:41.80]Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n[01:44.97]Hands to the sky\n[01:47.24]♪\n[01:58.64]U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n[02:08.96]Chiraq, Palestine like\n[02:11.48]Iberville, 1995\n[02:14.55]You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n[02:18.26]I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n[02:22.49]All this space Atlanta\n[02:24.45]Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n[02:27.82]I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n[02:31.28]Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n[02:34.56]How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n[02:38.06]Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n[02:43.39]El Chapo, de facto\n[02:46.00]Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n[02:48.90]Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n[02:53.00]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Unity\n  artist: Frank Ocean\n  album: Endless\n  duration_ms: 230000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: U-N-I-T\n  start_ms: 0\n  end_ms: 1590\n- text: U-N-I—\n  start_ms: 1590\n  end_ms: 8840\n- text: My head fatiguing off the opus\n  start_ms: 8840\n  end_ms: 10590\n- text: Kept it underground to focus\n  start_ms: 10590\n  end_ms: 12470\n- text: I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  start_ms: 12470\n  end_ms: 15760\n- text: Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  start_ms: 15760\n  end_ms: 19130\n- text: Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  start_ms: 19130\n  end_ms: 22800\n- text: You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  start_ms: 22800\n  end_ms: 24970\n- text: Boy, you missed your moment\n  start_ms: 24970\n  end_ms: 26000\n- text: Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  start_ms: 26000\n  end_ms: 29280\n- text: On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  start_ms: 29280\n  end_ms: 32400\n- text: Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  start_ms: 32400\n  end_ms: 34100\n- text: I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  start_ms: 34100\n  end_ms: 36320\n- text: I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  start_ms: 36320\n  end_ms: 39780\n- text: I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  start_ms: 39780\n  end_ms: 43160\n- text: I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  start_ms: 43160\n  end_ms: 46750\n- text: Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  start_ms: 46750\n  end_ms: 49990\n- text: It forever seemed like time's up\n  start_ms: 49990\n  end_ms: 51740\n- text: When we swerved in the Honda\n  start_ms: 51740\n  end_ms: 53490\n- text: Now forever seems like no time\n  start_ms: 53490\n  end_ms: 54810\n- text: I mean, time flies when you have some\n  start_ms: 54810\n  end_ms: 56940\n- text: Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  start_ms: 56940\n  end_ms: 60270\n- text: My crew saved your crew\n  start_ms: 60270\n  end_ms: 61720\n- text: Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  start_ms: 61720\n  end_ms: 63690\n- text: Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  start_ms: 63690\n  end_ms: 67100\n- text: Are you slowin' down?\n  start_ms: 67100\n  end_ms: 67950\n- text: Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  start_ms: 67950\n  end_ms: 70740\n- text: Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  start_ms: 70740\n  end_ms: 72490\n- text: Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  start_ms: 72490\n  end_ms: 74150\n- text: Really brothers when you needed that?\n  start_ms: 74150\n  end_ms: 76150\n- text: When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  start_ms: 76150\n  end_ms: 77480\n- text: Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  start_ms: 77480\n  end_ms: 81360\n- text: Hands to the sky, yeah\n  start_ms: 81360\n  end_ms: 84650\n- text: Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  start_ms: 84650\n  end_ms: 88020\n- text: Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  start_ms: 88020\n  end_ms: 91470\n- text: Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  start_ms: 91470\n  end_ms: 95230\n- text: Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  start_ms: 95230\n  end_ms: 98170\n- text: Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  start_ms: 98170\n  end_ms: 101800\n- text: Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  start_ms: 101800\n  end_ms: 104970\n- text: Hands to the sky\n  start_ms: 104970\n  end_ms: 107240\n- text: ♪\n  start_ms: 107240\n  end_ms: 118640\n- text: U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  start_ms: 118640\n  end_ms: 128960\n- text: Chiraq, Palestine like\n  start_ms: 128960\n  end_ms: 131480\n- text: Iberville, 1995\n  start_ms: 131480\n  end_ms: 134550\n- text: You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  start_ms: 134550\n  end_ms: 138260\n- text: I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  start_ms: 138260\n  end_ms: 142490\n- text: All this space Atlanta\n  start_ms: 142490\n  end_ms: 144450\n- text: Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  start_ms: 144450\n  end_ms: 147820\n- text: I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  start_ms: 147820\n  end_ms: 151280\n- text: Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  start_ms: 151280\n  end_ms: 154560\n- text: How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  start_ms: 154560\n  end_ms: 158060\n- text: Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  start_ms: 158060\n  end_ms: 163390\n- text: El Chapo, de facto\n  start_ms: 163390\n  end_ms: 166000\n- text: Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  start_ms: 166000\n  end_ms: 168900\n- text: Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n  start_ms: 168900\n  end_ms: 173000\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 173000\nplain: |\n  U-N-I-T\n  U-N-I—\n  My head fatiguing off the opus\n  Kept it underground to focus\n  I feel afterlife, six under oath, don't want no hocus-pocus\n  Niggas tryna go pop, I draw contact, rip my facemask\n  Nothin' but, nothin' but net, is you Roger or Novak?\n  You still are no match, you get no rematch\n  Boy, you missed your moment\n  Perusing the MoMA, I'm on all my lonely, burst in tears\n  On his shoulder and it's so cold 'cause he's sculpture\n  Where's the shaman? Ayahuasca\n  I had WhatsApp'd him for atonement\n  I never ever trust the pre-rolled\n  I never let a random motherfucker shoot the B-roll\n  I never ask advice from him 'cause what could he know?\n  Never fuck someone you wouldn't wanna be though\n  It forever seemed like time's up\n  When we swerved in the Honda\n  Now forever seems like no time\n  I mean, time flies when you have some\n  Both nuts weigh two pounds, all on your bitch like futons\n  My crew saved your crew\n  Like niggas came through with the Groupons\n  Cookin' with the grease now, truffle fries and Cholula\n  Are you slowin' down?\n  Are you holdin' down whoever held you down?\n  Whoever propped you up, built the structures with you\n  Swished the buckets with ya, who was fuckin' with ya?\n  Really brothers when you needed that?\n  When you see 'em now is it forced black?\n  Hail Mary on the fourth down\n  Hands to the sky, yeah\n  Peace to the holy, peace to the people that think they know me\n  Piece of Moschino, cover your ass, your rectum showing\n  Peace to the boys that we used to be though\n  Geto Boy, North Face too cold on these hoes\n  Peace out to Willie D, Bushwick Billy and 'Face\n  Piece of steak grillin' in Jesus' name, speakin' his grace\n  Hands to the sky\n  ♪\n  U-N-I-T-Y, Neptunes and peace signs\n  Chiraq, Palestine like\n  Iberville, 1995\n  You'd think that was airstrikes on outside\n  I put refugees in my villa, play kids the Fu-Gee-La\n  All this space Atlanta\n  Place order McMansion and two apple pies\n  I want the Porsche, a Bugatti-design\n  Silicon Valley, new venture is tits up\n  How do I crop your new bitch out my Vine?\n  Sick, blue nose pit foamin' white like frappo jacko\n  El Chapo, de facto\n  Bell nacho, shell taco, crunch-crackle\n  Green emerald, pink diamonds like Apple Jack bowl\n"}]