[{"id":27109983,"name":"The Score (Album Version)","trackName":"The Score (Album Version)","artistName":"The Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":302.106122,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You rockin' live but you ain't sayin' nothing\nIt's time to settle the score\n(I play my enemies like a game of chess)\n(Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka)\nHa, ha, ha, ha, ha, you shouldn't diss Refugees\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score)\n\nLook into the rhyme\nRum to the ripple\nSing boo\nBut at times I come in triple\n\nBlaow, blaow put the heater to your head\nNow you dead\nWyclef don't give a oooh if you dead\nRaaaaah, raaaah\nLet me attack just like the black cat\n\nYou in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.\nHooo, you've got to go for backup\nTo do what you gotta do.\nSo you'll be back with France CU\nTraitor in your crew is mafo heat\n\nYou put the poison in my tea\nAnd kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede\nI'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo\nAwoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what\nCompetition, stimulation for the rap man\n\nLosers check your tooters\nWhile I'm suckin' on your girls hooters.\nDon't play macho, while you got the gun\nCause if you got to reload\n\nWyclef the multi-talented\nAverage heads can't handle it\nI'll bring it to you live\nOnly if you want it\n\nMe and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's\n(C'mon check out my melody)\nThe W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef\nThrough any contest\nI'm victorious\nStill keep it real, if you will and manifest\nThrough your skills, not by how many shells you peel.\n\nI'm a bring down the ruckus\nPlay the nutcracker\nRough-neck rednecks make me no bother\nTime after time, ask Cyndi Lauper\nBoss, you don't want to fuck with my partners\n\nMotion, commotion, what's your proposal\nUphold two-fold, the crew is disposal\nLike utensil, false idental,\nI autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil\n\nI'm the L, Won't you pull it\nStraight to the head\nWith the speed of a bullet\nCuttin' niggas off at the meeky-freeky gullet\nLyrical sedative, keep niggas medative\n\nHead rushers I give to creative kids and fiends\nDreams of euphoria\nAurora\nTo another galaxy\nPhallic-sy\n\nBe this microphone, but get lifted\nLyrically I'm gifted\nBurn on in without the roach clip (it)\nHenders, mind-bender\nPleasure sender\n\nSo frequently your nerve endings belong to me\nWrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke\nWack niggas choke\nFrom the fumes that I emote,\nOr emit shit\n\nSee even I feel the mahogany L\nNatural hallucinogen\nTurning boys to men again\nWith estrogen dreams\nRelease blues, yellows and greens\nFrom Brownsville to Queens\n\nYou rockin' live but you ain't saying nothing\nIt's time to settle the score\nReady or not. Refugees taking over\n'Cause we soft spoken\nDoesn't mean that we've forgotten\nNow we permanently one\nAnd one day you will be forgotten\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score)\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score) Diamond D\n\nI creep like a thief, no doubt the man's swift\nI'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff\nYou stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff\n(We know where to run)\nAnd start flakin' like dandruff\n\nC'mon son my steelo's tight\nCause by far I'm the best producer on the mic\nOn the right, analytical conceptions\nWith precision and leave lyrical incisions\nBing! ha, ha, ha\n\nAll they do is front and lie man\nYo' i'mma go get some drink\nYou alright? You straight?\nYeah I'm straight, I'll be right back\n\nHey yo' LJ I heard you fucked Michelle\nMan I been fucked Michelle\nMichelle Lesley Brown (Michelle Lesley Brown)\nFrom 225th Street?\n\nNigga Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th Street\nThat play ball in the park\nNigga, Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street, that play ball in the park\nMan I been fuckin' her\n\nWhat happened?\nWhat he say? What he say about her?\nHe said he fucked her\nBut, there go Michelle right there, call her over here\n\nHey yo' Michelle, come here for a second baby\nCome here, come her\nAsk her...\nYo', you fuck Jay?\nHell no, eeeuw. What?\n\nNigga not that Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street\nThat play ball in the park, the other Michelle Lesley Brown\nNigga that's the only one\nHow many Michelle's is there?\nShe got a cousin or some shit like that\nKnow what I'm saying...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Score (Album Version)\n  artist: The Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 302106\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You rockin' live but you ain't sayin' nothing\n  It's time to settle the score\n  (I play my enemies like a game of chess)\n  (Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka)\n  Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, you shouldn't diss Refugees\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n\n  Look into the rhyme\n  Rum to the ripple\n  Sing boo\n  But at times I come in triple\n\n  Blaow, blaow put the heater to your head\n  Now you dead\n  Wyclef don't give a oooh if you dead\n  Raaaaah, raaaah\n  Let me attack just like the black cat\n\n  You in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.\n  Hooo, you've got to go for backup\n  To do what you gotta do.\n  So you'll be back with France CU\n  Traitor in your crew is mafo heat\n\n  You put the poison in my tea\n  And kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede\n  I'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo\n  Awoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what\n  Competition, stimulation for the rap man\n\n  Losers check your tooters\n  While I'm suckin' on your girls hooters.\n  Don't play macho, while you got the gun\n  Cause if you got to reload\n\n  Wyclef the multi-talented\n  Average heads can't handle it\n  I'll bring it to you live\n  Only if you want it\n\n  Me and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's\n  (C'mon check out my melody)\n  The W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef\n  Through any contest\n  I'm victorious\n  Still keep it real, if you will and manifest\n  Through your skills, not by how many shells you peel.\n\n  I'm a bring down the ruckus\n  Play the nutcracker\n  Rough-neck rednecks make me no bother\n  Time after time, ask Cyndi Lauper\n  Boss, you don't want to fuck with my partners\n\n  Motion, commotion, what's your proposal\n  Uphold two-fold, the crew is disposal\n  Like utensil, false idental,\n  I autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil\n\n  I'm the L, Won't you pull it\n  Straight to the head\n  With the speed of a bullet\n  Cuttin' niggas off at the meeky-freeky gullet\n  Lyrical sedative, keep niggas medative\n\n  Head rushers I give to creative kids and fiends\n  Dreams of euphoria\n  Aurora\n  To another galaxy\n  Phallic-sy\n\n  Be this microphone, but get lifted\n  Lyrically I'm gifted\n  Burn on in without the roach clip (it)\n  Henders, mind-bender\n  Pleasure sender\n\n  So frequently your nerve endings belong to me\n  Wrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke\n  Wack niggas choke\n  From the fumes that I emote,\n  Or emit shit\n\n  See even I feel the mahogany L\n  Natural hallucinogen\n  Turning boys to men again\n  With estrogen dreams\n  Release blues, yellows and greens\n  From Brownsville to Queens\n\n  You rockin' live but you ain't saying nothing\n  It's time to settle the score\n  Ready or not. Refugees taking over\n  'Cause we soft spoken\n  Doesn't mean that we've forgotten\n  Now we permanently one\n  And one day you will be forgotten\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score) Diamond D\n\n  I creep like a thief, no doubt the man's swift\n  I'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff\n  You stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff\n  (We know where to run)\n  And start flakin' like dandruff\n\n  C'mon son my steelo's tight\n  Cause by far I'm the best producer on the mic\n  On the right, analytical conceptions\n  With precision and leave lyrical incisions\n  Bing! ha, ha, ha\n\n  All they do is front and lie man\n  Yo' i'mma go get some drink\n  You alright? You straight?\n  Yeah I'm straight, I'll be right back\n\n  Hey yo' LJ I heard you fucked Michelle\n  Man I been fucked Michelle\n  Michelle Lesley Brown (Michelle Lesley Brown)\n  From 225th Street?\n\n  Nigga Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th Street\n  That play ball in the park\n  Nigga, Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street, that play ball in the park\n  Man I been fuckin' her\n\n  What happened?\n  What he say? What he say about her?\n  He said he fucked her\n  But, there go Michelle right there, call her over here\n\n  Hey yo' Michelle, come here for a second baby\n  Come here, come her\n  Ask her...\n  Yo', you fuck Jay?\n  Hell no, eeeuw. What?\n\n  Nigga not that Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street\n  That play ball in the park, the other Michelle Lesley Brown\n  Nigga that's the only one\n  How many Michelle's is there?\n  She got a cousin or some shit like that\n  Know what I'm saying...\n"},{"id":35480648,"name":"The Score (Album Version)","trackName":"The Score (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":302.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You rockin' live but you ain't sayin' nothing\nIt's time to settle the score\n(I play my enemies like a game of chess)\n(Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka)\nHa, ha, ha, ha, ha, you shouldn't diss Refugees\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score)\n\nLook into the rhyme\nRum to the ripple\nSing boo\nBut at times I come in triple\n\nBlaow, blaow put the heater to your head\nNow you dead\nWyclef don't give a oooh if you dead\nRaaaaah, raaaah\nLet me attack just like the black cat\n\nYou in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.\nHooo, you've got to go for backup\nTo do what you gotta do.\nSo you'll be back with France CU\nTraitor in your crew is mafo heat\n\nYou put the poison in my tea\nAnd kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede\nI'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo\nAwoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what\nCompetition, stimulation for the rap man\n\nLosers check your tooters\nWhile I'm suckin' on your girls hooters.\nDon't play macho, while you got the gun\nCause if you got to reload\n\nWyclef the multi-talented\nAverage heads can't handle it\nI'll bring it to you live\nOnly if you want it\n\nMe and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's\n(C'mon check out my melody)\nThe W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef\nThrough any contest\nI'm victorious\nStill keep it real, if you will and manifest\nThrough your skills, not by how many shells you peel.\n\nI'm a bring down the ruckus\nPlay the nutcracker\nRough-neck rednecks make me no bother\nTime after time, ask Cyndi Lauper\nBoss, you don't want to fuck with my partners\n\nMotion, commotion, what's your proposal\nUphold two-fold, the crew is disposal\nLike utensil, false idental,\nI autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil\n\nI'm the L, Won't you pull it\nStraight to the head\nWith the speed of a bullet\nCuttin' niggas off at the meeky-freeky gullet\nLyrical sedative, keep niggas medative\n\nHead rushers I give to creative kids and fiends\nDreams of euphoria\nAurora\nTo another galaxy\nPhallic-sy\n\nBe this microphone, but get lifted\nLyrically I'm gifted\nBurn on in without the roach clip (it)\nHenders, mind-bender\nPleasure sender\n\nSo frequently your nerve endings belong to me\nWrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke\nWack niggas choke\nFrom the fumes that I emote,\nOr emit shit\n\nSee even I feel the mahogany L\nNatural hallucinogen\nTurning boys to men again\nWith estrogen dreams\nRelease blues, yellows and greens\nFrom Brownsville to Queens\n\nYou rockin' live but you ain't saying nothing\nIt's time to settle the score\nReady or not. Refugees taking over\n'Cause we soft spoken\nDoesn't mean that we've forgotten\nNow we permanently one\nAnd one day you will be forgotten\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score)\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score) Diamond D\n\nI creep like a thief, no doubt the man's swift\nI'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff\nYou stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff\n(We know where to run)\nAnd start flakin' like dandruff\n\nC'mon son my steelo's tight\nCause by far I'm the best producer on the mic\nOn the right, analytical conceptions\nWith precision and leave lyrical incisions\nBing! ha, ha, ha\n\nAll they do is front and lie man\nYo' i'mma go get some drink\nYou alright? You straight?\nYeah I'm straight, I'll be right back\n\nHey yo' LJ I heard you fucked Michelle\nMan I been fucked Michelle\nMichelle Lesley Brown (Michelle Lesley Brown)\nFrom 225th Street?\n\nNigga Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th Street\nThat play ball in the park\nNigga, Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street, that play ball in the park\nMan I been fuckin' her\n\nWhat happened?\nWhat he say? What he say about her?\nHe said he fucked her\nBut, there go Michelle right there, call her over here\n\nHey yo' Michelle, come here for a second baby\nCome here, come her\nAsk her...\nYo', you fuck Jay?\nHell no, eeeuw. What?\n\nNigga not that Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street\nThat play ball in the park, the other Michelle Lesley Brown\nNigga that's the only one\nHow many Michelle's is there?\nShe got a cousin or some shit like that\nKnow what I'm saying...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Score (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 302000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You rockin' live but you ain't sayin' nothing\n  It's time to settle the score\n  (I play my enemies like a game of chess)\n  (Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka)\n  Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, you shouldn't diss Refugees\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n\n  Look into the rhyme\n  Rum to the ripple\n  Sing boo\n  But at times I come in triple\n\n  Blaow, blaow put the heater to your head\n  Now you dead\n  Wyclef don't give a oooh if you dead\n  Raaaaah, raaaah\n  Let me attack just like the black cat\n\n  You in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.\n  Hooo, you've got to go for backup\n  To do what you gotta do.\n  So you'll be back with France CU\n  Traitor in your crew is mafo heat\n\n  You put the poison in my tea\n  And kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede\n  I'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo\n  Awoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what\n  Competition, stimulation for the rap man\n\n  Losers check your tooters\n  While I'm suckin' on your girls hooters.\n  Don't play macho, while you got the gun\n  Cause if you got to reload\n\n  Wyclef the multi-talented\n  Average heads can't handle it\n  I'll bring it to you live\n  Only if you want it\n\n  Me and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's\n  (C'mon check out my melody)\n  The W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef\n  Through any contest\n  I'm victorious\n  Still keep it real, if you will and manifest\n  Through your skills, not by how many shells you peel.\n\n  I'm a bring down the ruckus\n  Play the nutcracker\n  Rough-neck rednecks make me no bother\n  Time after time, ask Cyndi Lauper\n  Boss, you don't want to fuck with my partners\n\n  Motion, commotion, what's your proposal\n  Uphold two-fold, the crew is disposal\n  Like utensil, false idental,\n  I autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil\n\n  I'm the L, Won't you pull it\n  Straight to the head\n  With the speed of a bullet\n  Cuttin' niggas off at the meeky-freeky gullet\n  Lyrical sedative, keep niggas medative\n\n  Head rushers I give to creative kids and fiends\n  Dreams of euphoria\n  Aurora\n  To another galaxy\n  Phallic-sy\n\n  Be this microphone, but get lifted\n  Lyrically I'm gifted\n  Burn on in without the roach clip (it)\n  Henders, mind-bender\n  Pleasure sender\n\n  So frequently your nerve endings belong to me\n  Wrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke\n  Wack niggas choke\n  From the fumes that I emote,\n  Or emit shit\n\n  See even I feel the mahogany L\n  Natural hallucinogen\n  Turning boys to men again\n  With estrogen dreams\n  Release blues, yellows and greens\n  From Brownsville to Queens\n\n  You rockin' live but you ain't saying nothing\n  It's time to settle the score\n  Ready or not. Refugees taking over\n  'Cause we soft spoken\n  Doesn't mean that we've forgotten\n  Now we permanently one\n  And one day you will be forgotten\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score) Diamond D\n\n  I creep like a thief, no doubt the man's swift\n  I'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff\n  You stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff\n  (We know where to run)\n  And start flakin' like dandruff\n\n  C'mon son my steelo's tight\n  Cause by far I'm the best producer on the mic\n  On the right, analytical conceptions\n  With precision and leave lyrical incisions\n  Bing! ha, ha, ha\n\n  All they do is front and lie man\n  Yo' i'mma go get some drink\n  You alright? You straight?\n  Yeah I'm straight, I'll be right back\n\n  Hey yo' LJ I heard you fucked Michelle\n  Man I been fucked Michelle\n  Michelle Lesley Brown (Michelle Lesley Brown)\n  From 225th Street?\n\n  Nigga Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th Street\n  That play ball in the park\n  Nigga, Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street, that play ball in the park\n  Man I been fuckin' her\n\n  What happened?\n  What he say? What he say about her?\n  He said he fucked her\n  But, there go Michelle right there, call her over here\n\n  Hey yo' Michelle, come here for a second baby\n  Come here, come her\n  Ask her...\n  Yo', you fuck Jay?\n  Hell no, eeeuw. What?\n\n  Nigga not that Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street\n  That play ball in the park, the other Michelle Lesley Brown\n  Nigga that's the only one\n  How many Michelle's is there?\n  She got a cousin or some shit like that\n  Know what I'm saying...\n"},{"id":27167050,"name":"The Score (Album Version)","trackName":"The Score (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score (Expanded Edition)","duration":305.188571,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You rockin' live but you ain't sayin' nothing\nIt's time to settle the score\n(I play my enemies like a game of chess)\n(Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka)\nHa, ha, ha, ha, ha, you shouldn't diss Refugees\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score)\n\nLook into the rhyme\nRum to the ripple\nSing boo\nBut at times I come in triple\n\nBlaow, blaow put the heater to your head\nNow you dead\nWyclef don't give a oooh if you dead\nRaaaaah, raaaah\nLet me attack just like the black cat\n\nYou in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.\nHooo, you've got to go for backup\nTo do what you gotta do.\nSo you'll be back with France CU\nTraitor in your crew is mafo heat\n\nYou put the poison in my tea\nAnd kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede\nI'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo\nAwoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what\nCompetition, stimulation for the rap man\n\nLosers check your tooters\nWhile I'm suckin' on your girls hooters.\nDon't play macho, while you got the gun\nCause if you got to reload\n\nWyclef the multi-talented\nAverage heads can't handle it\nI'll bring it to you live\nOnly if you want it\n\nMe and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's\n(C'mon check out my melody)\nThe W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef\nThrough any contest\nI'm victorious\nStill keep it real, if you will and manifest\nThrough your skills, not by how many shells you peel.\n\nI'm a bring down the ruckus\nPlay the nutcracker\nRough-neck rednecks make me no bother\nTime after time, ask Cyndi Lauper\nBoss, you don't want to fuck with my partners\n\nMotion, commotion, what's your proposal\nUphold two-fold, the crew is disposal\nLike utensil, false idental,\nI autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil\n\nI'm the L, Won't you pull it\nStraight to the head\nWith the speed of a bullet\nCuttin' niggas off at the meeky-freeky gullet\nLyrical sedative, keep niggas medative\n\nHead rushers I give to creative kids and fiends\nDreams of euphoria\nAurora\nTo another galaxy\nPhallic-sy\n\nBe this microphone, but get lifted\nLyrically I'm gifted\nBurn on in without the roach clip (it)\nHenders, mind-bender\nPleasure sender\n\nSo frequently your nerve endings belong to me\nWrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke\nWack niggas choke\nFrom the fumes that I emote,\nOr emit shit\n\nSee even I feel the mahogany L\nNatural hallucinogen\nTurning boys to men again\nWith estrogen dreams\nRelease blues, yellows and greens\nFrom Brownsville to Queens\n\nYou rockin' live but you ain't saying nothing\nIt's time to settle the score\nReady or not. Refugees taking over\n'Cause we soft spoken\nDoesn't mean that we've forgotten\nNow we permanently one\nAnd one day you will be forgotten\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score)\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score) Diamond D\n\nI creep like a thief, no doubt the man's swift\nI'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff\nYou stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff\n(We know where to run)\nAnd start flakin' like dandruff\n\nC'mon son my steelo's tight\nCause by far I'm the best producer on the mic\nOn the right, analytical conceptions\nWith precision and leave lyrical incisions\nBing! ha, ha, ha\n\nAll they do is front and lie man\nYo' i'mma go get some drink\nYou alright? You straight?\nYeah I'm straight, I'll be right back\n\nHey yo' LJ I heard you fucked Michelle\nMan I been fucked Michelle\nMichelle Lesley Brown (Michelle Lesley Brown)\nFrom 225th Street?\n\nNigga Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th Street\nThat play ball in the park\nNigga, Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street, that play ball in the park\nMan I been fuckin' her\n\nWhat happened?\nWhat he say? What he say about her?\nHe said he fucked her\nBut, there go Michelle right there, call her over here\n\nHey yo' Michelle, come here for a second baby\nCome here, come her\nAsk her...\nYo', you fuck Jay?\nHell no, eeeuw. What?\n\nNigga not that Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street\nThat play ball in the park, the other Michelle Lesley Brown\nNigga that's the only one\nHow many Michelle's is there?\nShe got a cousin or some shit like that\nKnow what I'm saying...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Score (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score (Expanded Edition)\n  duration_ms: 305189\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You rockin' live but you ain't sayin' nothing\n  It's time to settle the score\n  (I play my enemies like a game of chess)\n  (Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka)\n  Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, you shouldn't diss Refugees\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n\n  Look into the rhyme\n  Rum to the ripple\n  Sing boo\n  But at times I come in triple\n\n  Blaow, blaow put the heater to your head\n  Now you dead\n  Wyclef don't give a oooh if you dead\n  Raaaaah, raaaah\n  Let me attack just like the black cat\n\n  You in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.\n  Hooo, you've got to go for backup\n  To do what you gotta do.\n  So you'll be back with France CU\n  Traitor in your crew is mafo heat\n\n  You put the poison in my tea\n  And kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede\n  I'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo\n  Awoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what\n  Competition, stimulation for the rap man\n\n  Losers check your tooters\n  While I'm suckin' on your girls hooters.\n  Don't play macho, while you got the gun\n  Cause if you got to reload\n\n  Wyclef the multi-talented\n  Average heads can't handle it\n  I'll bring it to you live\n  Only if you want it\n\n  Me and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's\n  (C'mon check out my melody)\n  The W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef\n  Through any contest\n  I'm victorious\n  Still keep it real, if you will and manifest\n  Through your skills, not by how many shells you peel.\n\n  I'm a bring down the ruckus\n  Play the nutcracker\n  Rough-neck rednecks make me no bother\n  Time after time, ask Cyndi Lauper\n  Boss, you don't want to fuck with my partners\n\n  Motion, commotion, what's your proposal\n  Uphold two-fold, the crew is disposal\n  Like utensil, false idental,\n  I autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil\n\n  I'm the L, Won't you pull it\n  Straight to the head\n  With the speed of a bullet\n  Cuttin' niggas off at the meeky-freeky gullet\n  Lyrical sedative, keep niggas medative\n\n  Head rushers I give to creative kids and fiends\n  Dreams of euphoria\n  Aurora\n  To another galaxy\n  Phallic-sy\n\n  Be this microphone, but get lifted\n  Lyrically I'm gifted\n  Burn on in without the roach clip (it)\n  Henders, mind-bender\n  Pleasure sender\n\n  So frequently your nerve endings belong to me\n  Wrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke\n  Wack niggas choke\n  From the fumes that I emote,\n  Or emit shit\n\n  See even I feel the mahogany L\n  Natural hallucinogen\n  Turning boys to men again\n  With estrogen dreams\n  Release blues, yellows and greens\n  From Brownsville to Queens\n\n  You rockin' live but you ain't saying nothing\n  It's time to settle the score\n  Ready or not. Refugees taking over\n  'Cause we soft spoken\n  Doesn't mean that we've forgotten\n  Now we permanently one\n  And one day you will be forgotten\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score) Diamond D\n\n  I creep like a thief, no doubt the man's swift\n  I'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff\n  You stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff\n  (We know where to run)\n  And start flakin' like dandruff\n\n  C'mon son my steelo's tight\n  Cause by far I'm the best producer on the mic\n  On the right, analytical conceptions\n  With precision and leave lyrical incisions\n  Bing! ha, ha, ha\n\n  All they do is front and lie man\n  Yo' i'mma go get some drink\n  You alright? You straight?\n  Yeah I'm straight, I'll be right back\n\n  Hey yo' LJ I heard you fucked Michelle\n  Man I been fucked Michelle\n  Michelle Lesley Brown (Michelle Lesley Brown)\n  From 225th Street?\n\n  Nigga Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th Street\n  That play ball in the park\n  Nigga, Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street, that play ball in the park\n  Man I been fuckin' her\n\n  What happened?\n  What he say? What he say about her?\n  He said he fucked her\n  But, there go Michelle right there, call her over here\n\n  Hey yo' Michelle, come here for a second baby\n  Come here, come her\n  Ask her...\n  Yo', you fuck Jay?\n  Hell no, eeeuw. What?\n\n  Nigga not that Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street\n  That play ball in the park, the other Michelle Lesley Brown\n  Nigga that's the only one\n  How many Michelle's is there?\n  She got a cousin or some shit like that\n  Know what I'm saying...\n"},{"id":26658274,"name":"The Beast (Album Version)","trackName":"The Beast (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":337.240816,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Warn the town the beast is loose,\nWord 'em up y'all\nC'mon\n\nConflicts with night sticks illegal sales districts,\nHand-picked lunatics, keep poli-TRICK-cians rich\nHeretics push narcotics amidst its risks and frisks\nCool cliques throw bricks but seldom get targets\nPrivate-DIC sell hits, like porno-flicks do chicks\nThe 666 cut W.I.C. like Newt Gingrich sucks dick\n\nMeanwhile the government brings Star Wars from glocks to glockers\nC.O.P. has an APB out on Chewbacca\nMista Mayor, can I say something in yo honor\nYesterday in Central Park they got the Jogger (Okay, okay)\nLet's get the confusion straight in ghetto Gotham\nThe man behind the mask you thought was Batman is Bill Clinton\nWho soon retire, the roof is on fire\nConnie Chung brung the bomb as it comes from Oklahoma\nThings are getting serious, Kuumbaya\nOn a mountain satan offered me, Manhattan help me Jah Jah\n\nI can't sleep at night\n\nYou can't search me without probable cause\nOr that proper ammunition they call reasonable suspicion\nListen I bring friction to your whole jurisdiction\nYou planted seeds in my seat when I wasn't lookin\nNow you ask me for my license/registration\n\"WHAT THE F**K\" is my name, \"WHAT THE F**K\" is my occupation\nWell I'm an MC, I'm down with the Fugees\nMother Mary caught a flashback like Rodney now the cops got Lolly\n\nThe subconscious psychology that you use against me\nIf I lose control will send me to the penetentiary\nSuch as Alcatraz, or shot up like al Hajj Malik Shabazz\nHigh class get bypassed while my ass gets harrassed\nAnd the fuzz treat bruh's like they manhood never was\nAnd if you too powerful, you get bugged like Peter Tosh and Marley was\nAnd my word does nothing against the feds\nSo my eyes stay red as I chase crazy bald heads, WORD UP\n\nWarn the town the beast is loose\nAh - ah, Ah - ah Word 'em up y'all\nWarn the town the beast is loose\nAh - ah, Ah - ah Word 'em up y'all\n\nThe chase is on I feel like the bad guy\nFifth gear 125 like New Jersey drive\nLooked in my rear view mirror, police was getting closer\nHeard a roar in the sky, looked up and saw the Blue Thunder\nMy inner conscious says throw your handkerchief and surrender\nBUT TO WHO? The star spangled banner ooh\nSay can't you see cops more crooked than we\nBy the dawn early night robbing niggas for kis\nEasy low key crooked military\nPay taxes out my ass but they still harass me.\n\nThe streets of corruption got me busting and cussin' in the concrete jungle\nThoughts being dribbled like that tall kid Mutumbo\nHandled by Hannibal\nSoon I'm gonna be a fugitive like Dr. Kimble\n(Hey yo should I slow down?) Nah kid go faster,\nJust cause they got a badge, they could still be impostors\nProbable cause, got flaws like dirty draws\nMeet me at the corner store so we can start the street wars\n\nWarn the town the beast is loose\nAh - ah, Ah - ah,\nWarn the town\nWarn the town\n\nI can't sleep at night? to the beast\ncomin' to get me\nRefugee Camp\nWatch out for Gestapo","syncedLyrics":"[00:12.10] Warn the town the beast is loose,\n[00:16.93] Word 'em up y'all\n[00:22.91] C'mon\n[00:23.61] Conflicts with night sticks illegal sales districts,\n[00:26.68] Hand-picked lunatics, keep poli-TRICK-cians rich\n[00:29.40] Heretics push narcotics amidst its risks and frisks\n[00:32.75] Cool cliques throw bricks but seldom get targets\n[00:35.45] Private-DIC sell hits, like porno-flicks do chicks\n[00:38.56] The 666 cut W.I.C. like Newt Gingrich sucks dick\n[00:41.95] Meanwhile the government brings Star Wars from glocks to glockers\n[00:46.28] C.O.P. has an APB out on Chewbacca\n[00:48.52] Mista Mayor, can I say something in yo honor\n[00:51.42] Yesterday in Central Park they got the Jogger (Okay, okay)\n[00:54.63] Let's get the confusion straight in ghetto Gotham\n[00:57.38] The man behind the mask you thought was Batman is Bill Clinton\n[01:00.33] Who soon retire, the roof is on fire\n[01:02.70] Connie Chung brung the bomb as it comes from Oklahoma\n[01:06.02] Things are getting serious, Kuumbaya\n[01:08.73] On a mountain satan offered me, Manhattan help me Jah Jah\n[01:19.18] I can't sleep at night\n[01:20.37] You can't search me without probable cause\n[01:23.85] Or that proper ammunition they call reasonable suspicion\n[01:27.19] Listen I bring friction to your whole jurisdiction\n[01:30.03] You planted seeds in my seat when I wasn't lookin\n[01:33.17] Now you ask me for my license/registration\n[01:35.16] \"WHAT THE F**K\" is my name, \"WHAT THE F**K\" is my occupation\n[01:39.35] Well I'm an MC, I'm down with the Fugees\n[01:41.73] Mother Mary caught a flashback like Rodney now the cops got Lolly\n[01:45.15] The subconscious psychology that you use against me\n[01:47.94] If I lose control will send me to the penetentiary\n[01:49.90] Such as Alcatraz, or shot up like al Hajj Malik Shabazz\n[01:54.26] High class get bypassed while my ass gets harrassed\n[01:57.27] And the fuzz treat bruh's like they manhood never was\n[01:59.81] And if you too powerful, you get bugged like Peter Tosh and Marley was\n[02:03.38] And my word does nothing against the feds\n[02:05.35] So my eyes stay red as I chase crazy bald heads, WORD UP\n[02:09.11] Warn the town the beast is loose\n[02:12.44] Ah - ah, Ah - ah Word 'em up y'all\n[02:15.01] Warn the town the beast is loose\n[02:18.48] Ah - ah, Ah - ah Word 'em up y'all\n[02:21.29] The chase is on I feel like the bad guy\n[02:23.70] Fifth gear 125 like New Jersey drive\n[02:26.99] Looked in my rear view mirror, police was getting closer\n[02:29.72] Heard a roar in the sky, looked up and saw the Blue Thunder\n[02:33.33] My inner conscious says throw your handkerchief and surrender\n[02:36.49] BUT TO WHO? The star spangled banner ooh\n[02:39.15] Say can't you see cops more crooked than we\n[02:41.75] By the dawn early night robbing niggas for kis\n[02:44.80] Easy low key crooked military\n[02:47.79] Pay taxes out my ass but they still harass me.\n[02:56.72] The streets of corruption got me busting and cussin' in the concrete jungle\n[03:01.48] Thoughts being dribbled like that tall kid Mutumbo\n[03:04.45] Handled by Hannibal\n[03:05.92] Soon I'm gonna be a fugitive like Dr. Kimble\n[03:08.71] (Hey yo should I slow down?) Nah kid go faster,\n[03:11.72] Just cause they got a badge, they could still be impostors\n[03:14.89] Probable cause, got flaws like dirty draws\n[03:17.57] Meet me at the corner store so we can start the street wars\n[03:27.05] Warn the town the beast is loose\n[03:30.14] Ah - ah, Ah - ah,\n[03:33.21] Warn the town\n[03:36.05] Warn the town\n[03:37.60] I can't sleep at night? to the beast\n[03:54.38] comin' to get me\n[04:37.46] Refugee Camp\n[04:59.28] Watch out for Gestapo\n[05:27.94] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Beast (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 337241\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Warn the town the beast is loose,\n  start_ms: 12100\n  end_ms: 16930\n- text: Word 'em up y'all\n  start_ms: 16930\n  end_ms: 22910\n- text: C'mon\n  start_ms: 22910\n  end_ms: 23610\n- text: Conflicts with night sticks illegal sales districts,\n  start_ms: 23610\n  end_ms: 26680\n- text: Hand-picked lunatics, keep poli-TRICK-cians rich\n  start_ms: 26680\n  end_ms: 29400\n- text: Heretics push narcotics amidst its risks and frisks\n  start_ms: 29400\n  end_ms: 32750\n- text: Cool cliques throw bricks but seldom get targets\n  start_ms: 32750\n  end_ms: 35450\n- text: Private-DIC sell hits, like porno-flicks do chicks\n  start_ms: 35450\n  end_ms: 38560\n- text: The 666 cut W.I.C. like Newt Gingrich sucks dick\n  start_ms: 38560\n  end_ms: 41950\n- text: Meanwhile the government brings Star Wars from glocks to glockers\n  start_ms: 41950\n  end_ms: 46280\n- text: C.O.P. has an APB out on Chewbacca\n  start_ms: 46280\n  end_ms: 48520\n- text: Mista Mayor, can I say something in yo honor\n  start_ms: 48520\n  end_ms: 51420\n- text: Yesterday in Central Park they got the Jogger (Okay, okay)\n  start_ms: 51420\n  end_ms: 54630\n- text: Let's get the confusion straight in ghetto Gotham\n  start_ms: 54630\n  end_ms: 57380\n- text: The man behind the mask you thought was Batman is Bill Clinton\n  start_ms: 57380\n  end_ms: 60330\n- text: Who soon retire, the roof is on fire\n  start_ms: 60330\n  end_ms: 62700\n- text: Connie Chung brung the bomb as it comes from Oklahoma\n  start_ms: 62700\n  end_ms: 66020\n- text: Things are getting serious, Kuumbaya\n  start_ms: 66020\n  end_ms: 68730\n- text: On a mountain satan offered me, Manhattan help me Jah Jah\n  start_ms: 68730\n  end_ms: 79180\n- text: I can't sleep at night\n  start_ms: 79180\n  end_ms: 80370\n- text: You can't search me without probable cause\n  start_ms: 80370\n  end_ms: 83850\n- text: Or that proper ammunition they call reasonable suspicion\n  start_ms: 83850\n  end_ms: 87190\n- text: Listen I bring friction to your whole jurisdiction\n  start_ms: 87190\n  end_ms: 90030\n- text: You planted seeds in my seat when I wasn't lookin\n  start_ms: 90030\n  end_ms: 93170\n- text: Now you ask me for my license/registration\n  start_ms: 93170\n  end_ms: 95160\n- text: '\"WHAT THE F**K\" is my name, \"WHAT THE F**K\" is my occupation'\n  start_ms: 95160\n  end_ms: 99350\n- text: Well I'm an MC, I'm down with the Fugees\n  start_ms: 99350\n  end_ms: 101730\n- text: Mother Mary caught a flashback like Rodney now the cops got Lolly\n  start_ms: 101730\n  end_ms: 105150\n- text: The subconscious psychology that you use against me\n  start_ms: 105150\n  end_ms: 107940\n- text: If I lose control will send me to the penetentiary\n  start_ms: 107940\n  end_ms: 109900\n- text: Such as Alcatraz, or shot up like al Hajj Malik Shabazz\n  start_ms: 109900\n  end_ms: 114260\n- text: High class get bypassed while my ass gets harrassed\n  start_ms: 114260\n  end_ms: 117270\n- text: And the fuzz treat bruh's like they manhood never was\n  start_ms: 117270\n  end_ms: 119810\n- text: And if you too powerful, you get bugged like Peter Tosh and Marley was\n  start_ms: 119810\n  end_ms: 123380\n- text: And my word does nothing against the feds\n  start_ms: 123380\n  end_ms: 125350\n- text: So my eyes stay red as I chase crazy bald heads, WORD UP\n  start_ms: 125350\n  end_ms: 129110\n- text: Warn the town the beast is loose\n  start_ms: 129110\n  end_ms: 132440\n- text: Ah - ah, Ah - ah Word 'em up y'all\n  start_ms: 132440\n  end_ms: 135010\n- text: Warn the town the beast is loose\n  start_ms: 135010\n  end_ms: 138480\n- text: Ah - ah, Ah - ah Word 'em up y'all\n  start_ms: 138480\n  end_ms: 141290\n- text: The chase is on I feel like the bad guy\n  start_ms: 141290\n  end_ms: 143700\n- text: Fifth gear 125 like New Jersey drive\n  start_ms: 143700\n  end_ms: 146990\n- text: Looked in my rear view mirror, police was getting closer\n  start_ms: 146990\n  end_ms: 149720\n- text: Heard a roar in the sky, looked up and saw the Blue Thunder\n  start_ms: 149720\n  end_ms: 153330\n- text: My inner conscious says throw your handkerchief and surrender\n  start_ms: 153330\n  end_ms: 156490\n- text: BUT TO WHO? The star spangled banner ooh\n  start_ms: 156490\n  end_ms: 159150\n- text: Say can't you see cops more crooked than we\n  start_ms: 159150\n  end_ms: 161750\n- text: By the dawn early night robbing niggas for kis\n  start_ms: 161750\n  end_ms: 164800\n- text: Easy low key crooked military\n  start_ms: 164800\n  end_ms: 167790\n- text: Pay taxes out my ass but they still harass me.\n  start_ms: 167790\n  end_ms: 176720\n- text: The streets of corruption got me busting and cussin' in the concrete jungle\n  start_ms: 176720\n  end_ms: 181480\n- text: Thoughts being dribbled like that tall kid Mutumbo\n  start_ms: 181480\n  end_ms: 184450\n- text: Handled by Hannibal\n  start_ms: 184450\n  end_ms: 185920\n- text: Soon I'm gonna be a fugitive like Dr. Kimble\n  start_ms: 185920\n  end_ms: 188710\n- text: (Hey yo should I slow down?) Nah kid go faster,\n  start_ms: 188710\n  end_ms: 191720\n- text: Just cause they got a badge, they could still be impostors\n  start_ms: 191720\n  end_ms: 194890\n- text: Probable cause, got flaws like dirty draws\n  start_ms: 194890\n  end_ms: 197570\n- text: Meet me at the corner store so we can start the street wars\n  start_ms: 197570\n  end_ms: 207050\n- text: Warn the town the beast is loose\n  start_ms: 207050\n  end_ms: 210140\n- text: Ah - ah, Ah - ah,\n  start_ms: 210140\n  end_ms: 213210\n- text: Warn the town\n  start_ms: 213210\n  end_ms: 216050\n- text: Warn the town\n  start_ms: 216050\n  end_ms: 217600\n- text: I can't sleep at night? to the beast\n  start_ms: 217600\n  end_ms: 234380\n- text: comin' to get me\n  start_ms: 234380\n  end_ms: 277460\n- text: Refugee Camp\n  start_ms: 277460\n  end_ms: 299280\n- text: Watch out for Gestapo\n  start_ms: 299280\n  end_ms: 327940\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 327940\nplain: |-\n  Warn the town the beast is loose,\n  Word 'em up y'all\n  C'mon\n\n  Conflicts with night sticks illegal sales districts,\n  Hand-picked lunatics, keep poli-TRICK-cians rich\n  Heretics push narcotics amidst its risks and frisks\n  Cool cliques throw bricks but seldom get targets\n  Private-DIC sell hits, like porno-flicks do chicks\n  The 666 cut W.I.C. like Newt Gingrich sucks dick\n\n  Meanwhile the government brings Star Wars from glocks to glockers\n  C.O.P. has an APB out on Chewbacca\n  Mista Mayor, can I say something in yo honor\n  Yesterday in Central Park they got the Jogger (Okay, okay)\n  Let's get the confusion straight in ghetto Gotham\n  The man behind the mask you thought was Batman is Bill Clinton\n  Who soon retire, the roof is on fire\n  Connie Chung brung the bomb as it comes from Oklahoma\n  Things are getting serious, Kuumbaya\n  On a mountain satan offered me, Manhattan help me Jah Jah\n\n  I can't sleep at night\n\n  You can't search me without probable cause\n  Or that proper ammunition they call reasonable suspicion\n  Listen I bring friction to your whole jurisdiction\n  You planted seeds in my seat when I wasn't lookin\n  Now you ask me for my license/registration\n  \"WHAT THE F**K\" is my name, \"WHAT THE F**K\" is my occupation\n  Well I'm an MC, I'm down with the Fugees\n  Mother Mary caught a flashback like Rodney now the cops got Lolly\n\n  The subconscious psychology that you use against me\n  If I lose control will send me to the penetentiary\n  Such as Alcatraz, or shot up like al Hajj Malik Shabazz\n  High class get bypassed while my ass gets harrassed\n  And the fuzz treat bruh's like they manhood never was\n  And if you too powerful, you get bugged like Peter Tosh and Marley was\n  And my word does nothing against the feds\n  So my eyes stay red as I chase crazy bald heads, WORD UP\n\n  Warn the town the beast is loose\n  Ah - ah, Ah - ah Word 'em up y'all\n  Warn the town the beast is loose\n  Ah - ah, Ah - ah Word 'em up y'all\n\n  The chase is on I feel like the bad guy\n  Fifth gear 125 like New Jersey drive\n  Looked in my rear view mirror, police was getting closer\n  Heard a roar in the sky, looked up and saw the Blue Thunder\n  My inner conscious says throw your handkerchief and surrender\n  BUT TO WHO? The star spangled banner ooh\n  Say can't you see cops more crooked than we\n  By the dawn early night robbing niggas for kis\n  Easy low key crooked military\n  Pay taxes out my ass but they still harass me.\n\n  The streets of corruption got me busting and cussin' in the concrete jungle\n  Thoughts being dribbled like that tall kid Mutumbo\n  Handled by Hannibal\n  Soon I'm gonna be a fugitive like Dr. Kimble\n  (Hey yo should I slow down?) Nah kid go faster,\n  Just cause they got a badge, they could still be impostors\n  Probable cause, got flaws like dirty draws\n  Meet me at the corner store so we can start the street wars\n\n  Warn the town the beast is loose\n  Ah - ah, Ah - ah,\n  Warn the town\n  Warn the town\n\n  I can't sleep at night? to the beast\n  comin' to get me\n  Refugee Camp\n  Watch out for Gestapo\n"},{"id":28383857,"name":"The Mask (Album Version)","trackName":"The Mask (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":291.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Have you ever worn the mask? Yeah\nOne-two, one-two\n\nM to the A to the S to the K\nPut the mask upon the face just to make the next day\nFeds be hawkin' me, jokers be stalking m\nI walk the streets and camouflage my identity\nMy posse in the Brooklyn wear the mask\nMy crew in the Jersey wears the mask\nStick up kids doing boogie woogie wear the mask\nYeah, everybody wears the mask, but how long will it last? (Yo, yo)\n\nI used to work at Burger King, a king taking orders\nPunching my clock, now I'm wanted by the manager\nSouping me up, saying, \"You're a good worker\nHow would you like a quarter raise, move up to the register?\nLarge in charge, but ya gotta be a spy\nCome back and tell me who's bagging my fries\nGettin' high on company time\"\n\nHell no, siree, wrong MC\nWhy should I be a spy when you're spying me?\nAnd you see what ya thought ya saw but never seen (bing)\nYou missed the last move, checkmate, crown me king\nPulled my .22, pistol-whipped him in his face\nHired, now I'm fired, sober, now I'm wired\nEyes pitch red but the beat bop my head\nHit the streets for relief (oh my God), I bumped into feds\nI got kidnapped, they took me to D.C\nHad me workin' underground, building missiles for World War III\n\nM to the A to the S to the K\nPut the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\nBrothers be gaming, ladies be claiming\nI walk the streets and camouflage my identity\nMy posse Uptown wear the mask\nMy crew in the Queens wear the mask\nStick up kids with the Tommy Hil' wear the mask\nYeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last?\n\nI thought he was the wonder, and I was stun-gunned by his lips\nTaking sips of an Amaretto Sour with a twist\nShook my hips to the bassline, this joker grabbed my waistline\nPuttin' pressure on my spine, tryna get L-Boog to wind (bing)\nI backed up off him, then I caught him with five fingers to his face\nI had to put him in his place, this kid's invadin' my space\nBut then I recognized the smile, but I couldn't place the style\nSo many fronts in his mouth, I thought he was the Golden Child\n\nThen it hit me, that's Tariq from off the street around my grams\nI haven't seen him since 15 when he got booked for doing scams\nI tried to walk away, but he wouldn't let me leave\nHe ran up quick behind me asking, \"Yo, what happened to my nigga Steve?\"\nSteve was like this kid I went with back in grammar school\nI chuckled, knucklehead, I seen him yesterday, he's cool\nBusted, \"So who you checking for now? Probably some intellectual\"\nI kept the conversation straight (c'mon), but he kept tryna make it sexual\nThen his old lady tried to play me, waved her hands up in my face\nYo, I told her, \"Check your man, 'cause bitch, you acting out of place\" (come on)\n\nM to the A to the S to the K\nPut the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\nBrothers be frontin', then they be runnin'\nI walk the streets and camouflage my identity\nMy posse in the Bronx wear the mask\nMy crew on the Isle wear the mask\nStick up kids rolling in the Omni wear the mask\nYeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last?\n\n3 a.m. in the morning (watch it) on the boulevard\nI'm still at large, engaged with my entourage ('rage)\nMe and Godfather and a '67 Dodge\nI stepped out then looked, then post up my guard\nSearching for my car that was stolen from Scotland Yard (Puerto Ricans got the car)\nMy first instinct was to check the chop shop garage\nAs I rung the bell, someone tapped me on my back\nI turned around to look, it was a rookie in a mask (what?)\n\nHe said, \"I got a itchin' on my trigger\nDon't move, nigga, I'm taking you for murder\"\nSee cops, got two faces like two laces on my Reeboks\nMy knees knock as I step back for a clear shot (well, did you shoot him?)\nNah, kid, I didn't have the balls\nThat's when I realized I'm bumpin' too much Biggie Smalls\n\nM to the A to the S to the K\nPut the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\nRunners be beefin', cops be thiefin'\nBrothers be scheming, they should be teaming (c'mon)\nJokers be smoking and staying broken\nBitches be teasing, their money skeezin'\nNiggas be creeping, baby mothers be weeping\nI walk the street and camouflage my identity\n\nMy posse in the Haiti wear the mask\nMy crew in Jamaica wear the mask\nStick up kids bumping \"Fu-Gee-La\" wear the mask\nYeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last? (Yeah, y'all)\n\nSaid\nM to the A to the S to the K\n\nYo, man, we just rolled up there, shit was ill, man, it was ill\nYo, bullets everywhere, guns, smoke (yo, we put-, we puttin' motherfuckers on their ass)\nJokers fallin' off they porches just shootin', straight cowboys, man (you know what I'm sayin'? Yo, yo, you my nigga)\nStraight motherfuckin' cowboys (yo, you always been my nigga)","syncedLyrics":"[00:04.53] Have you ever worn the mask? Yeah\n[00:12.54] One-two, one-two\n[00:14.17] \n[00:22.38] M to the A to the S to the K\n[00:24.85] Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day\n[00:27.85] Feds be hawkin' me, jokers be stalking m\n[00:30.87] I walk the streets and camouflage my identity\n[00:33.72] My posse in the Brooklyn wear the mask\n[00:36.51] My crew in the Jersey wears the mask\n[00:38.71] Stick up kids doing boogie woogie wear the mask\n[00:40.84] Yeah, everybody wears the mask, but how long will it last? (Yo, yo)\n[00:43.66] I used to work at Burger King, a king taking orders\n[00:46.92] Punching my clock, now I'm wanted by the manager\n[00:49.62] Souping me up, saying, \"You're a good worker\n[00:52.33] How would you like a quarter raise, move up to the register?\n[00:55.11] Large in charge, but ya gotta be a spy\n[00:57.37] Come back and tell me who's bagging my fries\n[00:58.82] Gettin' high on company time\"\n[01:00.23] Hell no, siree, wrong MC\n[01:03.03] Why should I be a spy when you're spying me?\n[01:05.68] And you see what ya thought ya saw but never seen (bing)\n[01:08.45] You missed the last move, checkmate, crown me king\n[01:11.30] Pulled my .22, pistol-whipped him in his face\n[01:13.95] Hired, now I'm fired, sober, now I'm wired\n[01:16.79] Eyes pitch red but the beat bop my head\n[01:19.17] Hit the streets for relief (oh my God), I bumped into feds\n[01:22.18] I got kidnapped, they took me to D.C\n[01:24.68] Had me workin' underground, building missiles for World War III\n[01:27.50] M to the A to the S to the K\n[01:29.94] Put the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\n[01:33.38] Brothers be gaming, ladies be claiming\n[01:35.97] I walk the streets and camouflage my identity\n[01:38.96] My posse Uptown wear the mask\n[01:41.61] My crew in the Queens wear the mask\n[01:43.94] Stick up kids with the Tommy Hil' wear the mask\n[01:46.22] Yeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last?\n[01:49.28] I thought he was the wonder, and I was stun-gunned by his lips\n[01:51.81] Taking sips of an Amaretto Sour with a twist\n[01:54.45] Shook my hips to the bassline, this joker grabbed my waistline\n[01:57.28] Puttin' pressure on my spine, tryna get L-Boog to wind (bing)\n[01:59.83] I backed up off him, then I caught him with five fingers to his face\n[02:02.39] I had to put him in his place, this kid's invadin' my space\n[02:04.95] But then I recognized the smile, but I couldn't place the style\n[02:07.86] So many fronts in his mouth, I thought he was the Golden Child\n[02:10.72] Then it hit me, that's Tariq from off the street around my grams\n[02:13.38] I haven't seen him since 15 when he got booked for doing scams\n[02:16.37] I tried to walk away, but he wouldn't let me leave\n[02:18.69] He ran up quick behind me asking, \"Yo, what happened to my nigga Steve?\"\n[02:21.91] Steve was like this kid I went with back in grammar school\n[02:24.50] I chuckled, knucklehead, I seen him yesterday, he's cool\n[02:26.72] Busted, \"So who you checking for now? Probably some intellectual\"\n[02:29.69] I kept the conversation straight (c'mon), but he kept tryna make it sexual\n[02:32.37] Then his old lady tried to play me, waved her hands up in my face\n[02:35.12] Yo, I told her, \"Check your man, 'cause bitch, you acting out of place\" (come on)\n[02:38.23] M to the A to the S to the K\n[02:40.46] Put the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\n[02:43.71] Brothers be frontin', then they be runnin'\n[02:46.31] I walk the streets and camouflage my identity\n[02:49.34] My posse in the Bronx wear the mask\n[02:51.90] My crew on the Isle wear the mask\n[02:54.15] Stick up kids rolling in the Omni wear the mask\n[02:56.63] Yeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last?\n[02:59.58] 3 a.m. in the morning (watch it) on the boulevard\n[03:02.32] I'm still at large, engaged with my entourage ('rage)\n[03:05.14] Me and Godfather and a '67 Dodge\n[03:07.83] I stepped out then looked, then post up my guard\n[03:10.63] Searching for my car that was stolen from Scotland Yard (Puerto Ricans got the car)\n[03:13.61] My first instinct was to check the chop shop garage\n[03:15.94] As I rung the bell, someone tapped me on my back\n[03:18.58] I turned around to look, it was a rookie in a mask (what?)\n[03:21.20] He said, \"I got a itchin' on my trigger\n[03:24.18] Don't move, nigga, I'm taking you for murder\"\n[03:26.58] See cops, got two faces like two laces on my Reeboks\n[03:29.45] My knees knock as I step back for a clear shot (well, did you shoot him?)\n[03:32.85] Nah, kid, I didn't have the balls\n[03:35.10] That's when I realized I'm bumpin' too much Biggie Smalls\n[03:37.70] \n[03:48.54] M to the A to the S to the K\n[03:50.81] Put the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\n[03:54.20] Runners be beefin', cops be thiefin'\n[03:56.76] Brothers be scheming, they should be teaming (c'mon)\n[03:59.53] Jokers be smoking and staying broken\n[04:02.32] Bitches be teasing, their money skeezin'\n[04:05.04] Niggas be creeping, baby mothers be weeping\n[04:07.99] I walk the street and camouflage my identity\n[04:10.74] My posse in the Haiti wear the mask\n[04:13.68] My crew in Jamaica wear the mask\n[04:15.74] Stick up kids bumping \"Fu-Gee-La\" wear the mask\n[04:17.94] Yeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last? (Yeah, y'all)\n[04:22.19] Said\n[04:22.69] M to the A to the S to the K\n[04:26.36] \n[04:36.56] Yo, man, we just rolled up there, shit was ill, man, it was ill\n[04:40.25] Yo, bullets everywhere, guns, smoke (yo, we put-, we puttin' motherfuckers on their ass)\n[04:43.02] Jokers fallin' off they porches just shootin', straight cowboys, man (you know what I'm sayin'? Yo, yo, you my nigga)\n[04:46.63] Straight motherfuckin' cowboys (yo, you always been my nigga)\n[04:48.96] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Mask (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 291000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Have you ever worn the mask? Yeah\n  start_ms: 4530\n  end_ms: 12540\n- text: One-two, one-two\n  start_ms: 12540\n  end_ms: 14170\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 14170\n  end_ms: 22380\n- text: M to the A to the S to the K\n  start_ms: 22380\n  end_ms: 24850\n- text: Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day\n  start_ms: 24850\n  end_ms: 27850\n- text: Feds be hawkin' me, jokers be stalking m\n  start_ms: 27850\n  end_ms: 30870\n- text: I walk the streets and camouflage my identity\n  start_ms: 30870\n  end_ms: 33720\n- text: My posse in the Brooklyn wear the mask\n  start_ms: 33720\n  end_ms: 36510\n- text: My crew in the Jersey wears the mask\n  start_ms: 36510\n  end_ms: 38710\n- text: Stick up kids doing boogie woogie wear the mask\n  start_ms: 38710\n  end_ms: 40840\n- text: Yeah, everybody wears the mask, but how long will it last? (Yo, yo)\n  start_ms: 40840\n  end_ms: 43660\n- text: I used to work at Burger King, a king taking orders\n  start_ms: 43660\n  end_ms: 46920\n- text: Punching my clock, now I'm wanted by the manager\n  start_ms: 46920\n  end_ms: 49620\n- text: Souping me up, saying, \"You're a good worker\n  start_ms: 49620\n  end_ms: 52330\n- text: How would you like a quarter raise, move up to the register?\n  start_ms: 52330\n  end_ms: 55110\n- text: Large in charge, but ya gotta be a spy\n  start_ms: 55110\n  end_ms: 57370\n- text: Come back and tell me who's bagging my fries\n  start_ms: 57370\n  end_ms: 58820\n- text: Gettin' high on company time\"\n  start_ms: 58820\n  end_ms: 60230\n- text: Hell no, siree, wrong MC\n  start_ms: 60230\n  end_ms: 63030\n- text: Why should I be a spy when you're spying me?\n  start_ms: 63030\n  end_ms: 65680\n- text: And you see what ya thought ya saw but never seen (bing)\n  start_ms: 65680\n  end_ms: 68450\n- text: You missed the last move, checkmate, crown me king\n  start_ms: 68450\n  end_ms: 71300\n- text: Pulled my .22, pistol-whipped him in his face\n  start_ms: 71300\n  end_ms: 73950\n- text: Hired, now I'm fired, sober, now I'm wired\n  start_ms: 73950\n  end_ms: 76790\n- text: Eyes pitch red but the beat bop my head\n  start_ms: 76790\n  end_ms: 79170\n- text: Hit the streets for relief (oh my God), I bumped into feds\n  start_ms: 79170\n  end_ms: 82180\n- text: I got kidnapped, they took me to D.C\n  start_ms: 82180\n  end_ms: 84680\n- text: Had me workin' underground, building missiles for World War III\n  start_ms: 84680\n  end_ms: 87500\n- text: M to the A to the S to the K\n  start_ms: 87500\n  end_ms: 89940\n- text: Put the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\n  start_ms: 89940\n  end_ms: 93380\n- text: Brothers be gaming, ladies be claiming\n  start_ms: 93380\n  end_ms: 95970\n- text: I walk the streets and camouflage my identity\n  start_ms: 95970\n  end_ms: 98960\n- text: My posse Uptown wear the mask\n  start_ms: 98960\n  end_ms: 101610\n- text: My crew in the Queens wear the mask\n  start_ms: 101610\n  end_ms: 103940\n- text: Stick up kids with the Tommy Hil' wear the mask\n  start_ms: 103940\n  end_ms: 106220\n- text: Yeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last?\n  start_ms: 106220\n  end_ms: 109280\n- text: I thought he was the wonder, and I was stun-gunned by his lips\n  start_ms: 109280\n  end_ms: 111810\n- text: Taking sips of an Amaretto Sour with a twist\n  start_ms: 111810\n  end_ms: 114450\n- text: Shook my hips to the bassline, this joker grabbed my waistline\n  start_ms: 114450\n  end_ms: 117280\n- text: Puttin' pressure on my spine, tryna get L-Boog to wind (bing)\n  start_ms: 117280\n  end_ms: 119830\n- text: I backed up off him, then I caught him with five fingers to his face\n  start_ms: 119830\n  end_ms: 122390\n- text: I had to put him in his place, this kid's invadin' my space\n  start_ms: 122390\n  end_ms: 124950\n- text: But then I recognized the smile, but I couldn't place the style\n  start_ms: 124950\n  end_ms: 127860\n- text: So many fronts in his mouth, I thought he was the Golden Child\n  start_ms: 127860\n  end_ms: 130720\n- text: Then it hit me, that's Tariq from off the street around my grams\n  start_ms: 130720\n  end_ms: 133380\n- text: I haven't seen him since 15 when he got booked for doing scams\n  start_ms: 133380\n  end_ms: 136370\n- text: I tried to walk away, but he wouldn't let me leave\n  start_ms: 136370\n  end_ms: 138690\n- text: He ran up quick behind me asking, \"Yo, what happened to my nigga Steve?\"\n  start_ms: 138690\n  end_ms: 141910\n- text: Steve was like this kid I went with back in grammar school\n  start_ms: 141910\n  end_ms: 144500\n- text: I chuckled, knucklehead, I seen him yesterday, he's cool\n  start_ms: 144500\n  end_ms: 146720\n- text: Busted, \"So who you checking for now? Probably some intellectual\"\n  start_ms: 146720\n  end_ms: 149690\n- text: I kept the conversation straight (c'mon), but he kept tryna make it sexual\n  start_ms: 149690\n  end_ms: 152370\n- text: Then his old lady tried to play me, waved her hands up in my face\n  start_ms: 152370\n  end_ms: 155120\n- text: Yo, I told her, \"Check your man, 'cause bitch, you acting out of place\" (come on)\n  start_ms: 155120\n  end_ms: 158230\n- text: M to the A to the S to the K\n  start_ms: 158230\n  end_ms: 160460\n- text: Put the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\n  start_ms: 160460\n  end_ms: 163710\n- text: Brothers be frontin', then they be runnin'\n  start_ms: 163710\n  end_ms: 166310\n- text: I walk the streets and camouflage my identity\n  start_ms: 166310\n  end_ms: 169340\n- text: My posse in the Bronx wear the mask\n  start_ms: 169340\n  end_ms: 171900\n- text: My crew on the Isle wear the mask\n  start_ms: 171900\n  end_ms: 174150\n- text: Stick up kids rolling in the Omni wear the mask\n  start_ms: 174150\n  end_ms: 176630\n- text: Yeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last?\n  start_ms: 176630\n  end_ms: 179580\n- text: 3 a.m. in the morning (watch it) on the boulevard\n  start_ms: 179580\n  end_ms: 182320\n- text: I'm still at large, engaged with my entourage ('rage)\n  start_ms: 182320\n  end_ms: 185140\n- text: Me and Godfather and a '67 Dodge\n  start_ms: 185140\n  end_ms: 187830\n- text: I stepped out then looked, then post up my guard\n  start_ms: 187830\n  end_ms: 190630\n- text: Searching for my car that was stolen from Scotland Yard (Puerto Ricans got the car)\n  start_ms: 190630\n  end_ms: 193610\n- text: My first instinct was to check the chop shop garage\n  start_ms: 193610\n  end_ms: 195940\n- text: As I rung the bell, someone tapped me on my back\n  start_ms: 195940\n  end_ms: 198580\n- text: I turned around to look, it was a rookie in a mask (what?)\n  start_ms: 198580\n  end_ms: 201200\n- text: He said, \"I got a itchin' on my trigger\n  start_ms: 201200\n  end_ms: 204180\n- text: Don't move, nigga, I'm taking you for murder\"\n  start_ms: 204180\n  end_ms: 206580\n- text: See cops, got two faces like two laces on my Reeboks\n  start_ms: 206580\n  end_ms: 209450\n- text: My knees knock as I step back for a clear shot (well, did you shoot him?)\n  start_ms: 209450\n  end_ms: 212850\n- text: Nah, kid, I didn't have the balls\n  start_ms: 212850\n  end_ms: 215100\n- text: That's when I realized I'm bumpin' too much Biggie Smalls\n  start_ms: 215100\n  end_ms: 217700\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 217700\n  end_ms: 228540\n- text: M to the A to the S to the K\n  start_ms: 228540\n  end_ms: 230810\n- text: Put the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\n  start_ms: 230810\n  end_ms: 234200\n- text: Runners be beefin', cops be thiefin'\n  start_ms: 234200\n  end_ms: 236760\n- text: Brothers be scheming, they should be teaming (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 236760\n  end_ms: 239530\n- text: Jokers be smoking and staying broken\n  start_ms: 239530\n  end_ms: 242320\n- text: Bitches be teasing, their money skeezin'\n  start_ms: 242320\n  end_ms: 245040\n- text: Niggas be creeping, baby mothers be weeping\n  start_ms: 245040\n  end_ms: 247990\n- text: I walk the street and camouflage my identity\n  start_ms: 247990\n  end_ms: 250740\n- text: My posse in the Haiti wear the mask\n  start_ms: 250740\n  end_ms: 253680\n- text: My crew in Jamaica wear the mask\n  start_ms: 253680\n  end_ms: 255740\n- text: Stick up kids bumping \"Fu-Gee-La\" wear the mask\n  start_ms: 255740\n  end_ms: 257940\n- text: Yeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last? (Yeah, y'all)\n  start_ms: 257940\n  end_ms: 262190\n- text: Said\n  start_ms: 262190\n  end_ms: 262690\n- text: M to the A to the S to the K\n  start_ms: 262690\n  end_ms: 266360\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 266360\n  end_ms: 276560\n- text: Yo, man, we just rolled up there, shit was ill, man, it was ill\n  start_ms: 276560\n  end_ms: 280250\n- text: Yo, bullets everywhere, guns, smoke (yo, we put-, we puttin' motherfuckers on their ass)\n  start_ms: 280250\n  end_ms: 283020\n- text: Jokers fallin' off they porches just shootin', straight cowboys, man (you know what I'm sayin'? Yo, yo, you my nigga)\n  start_ms: 283020\n  end_ms: 286630\n- text: Straight motherfuckin' cowboys (yo, you always been my nigga)\n  start_ms: 286630\n  end_ms: 288960\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 288960\nplain: |-\n  Have you ever worn the mask? Yeah\n  One-two, one-two\n\n  M to the A to the S to the K\n  Put the mask upon the face just to make the next day\n  Feds be hawkin' me, jokers be stalking m\n  I walk the streets and camouflage my identity\n  My posse in the Brooklyn wear the mask\n  My crew in the Jersey wears the mask\n  Stick up kids doing boogie woogie wear the mask\n  Yeah, everybody wears the mask, but how long will it last? (Yo, yo)\n\n  I used to work at Burger King, a king taking orders\n  Punching my clock, now I'm wanted by the manager\n  Souping me up, saying, \"You're a good worker\n  How would you like a quarter raise, move up to the register?\n  Large in charge, but ya gotta be a spy\n  Come back and tell me who's bagging my fries\n  Gettin' high on company time\"\n\n  Hell no, siree, wrong MC\n  Why should I be a spy when you're spying me?\n  And you see what ya thought ya saw but never seen (bing)\n  You missed the last move, checkmate, crown me king\n  Pulled my .22, pistol-whipped him in his face\n  Hired, now I'm fired, sober, now I'm wired\n  Eyes pitch red but the beat bop my head\n  Hit the streets for relief (oh my God), I bumped into feds\n  I got kidnapped, they took me to D.C\n  Had me workin' underground, building missiles for World War III\n\n  M to the A to the S to the K\n  Put the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\n  Brothers be gaming, ladies be claiming\n  I walk the streets and camouflage my identity\n  My posse Uptown wear the mask\n  My crew in the Queens wear the mask\n  Stick up kids with the Tommy Hil' wear the mask\n  Yeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last?\n\n  I thought he was the wonder, and I was stun-gunned by his lips\n  Taking sips of an Amaretto Sour with a twist\n  Shook my hips to the bassline, this joker grabbed my waistline\n  Puttin' pressure on my spine, tryna get L-Boog to wind (bing)\n  I backed up off him, then I caught him with five fingers to his face\n  I had to put him in his place, this kid's invadin' my space\n  But then I recognized the smile, but I couldn't place the style\n  So many fronts in his mouth, I thought he was the Golden Child\n\n  Then it hit me, that's Tariq from off the street around my grams\n  I haven't seen him since 15 when he got booked for doing scams\n  I tried to walk away, but he wouldn't let me leave\n  He ran up quick behind me asking, \"Yo, what happened to my nigga Steve?\"\n  Steve was like this kid I went with back in grammar school\n  I chuckled, knucklehead, I seen him yesterday, he's cool\n  Busted, \"So who you checking for now? Probably some intellectual\"\n  I kept the conversation straight (c'mon), but he kept tryna make it sexual\n  Then his old lady tried to play me, waved her hands up in my face\n  Yo, I told her, \"Check your man, 'cause bitch, you acting out of place\" (come on)\n\n  M to the A to the S to the K\n  Put the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\n  Brothers be frontin', then they be runnin'\n  I walk the streets and camouflage my identity\n  My posse in the Bronx wear the mask\n  My crew on the Isle wear the mask\n  Stick up kids rolling in the Omni wear the mask\n  Yeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last?\n\n  3 a.m. in the morning (watch it) on the boulevard\n  I'm still at large, engaged with my entourage ('rage)\n  Me and Godfather and a '67 Dodge\n  I stepped out then looked, then post up my guard\n  Searching for my car that was stolen from Scotland Yard (Puerto Ricans got the car)\n  My first instinct was to check the chop shop garage\n  As I rung the bell, someone tapped me on my back\n  I turned around to look, it was a rookie in a mask (what?)\n\n  He said, \"I got a itchin' on my trigger\n  Don't move, nigga, I'm taking you for murder\"\n  See cops, got two faces like two laces on my Reeboks\n  My knees knock as I step back for a clear shot (well, did you shoot him?)\n  Nah, kid, I didn't have the balls\n  That's when I realized I'm bumpin' too much Biggie Smalls\n\n  M to the A to the S to the K\n  Put the mask 'pon me face just to make the next day\n  Runners be beefin', cops be thiefin'\n  Brothers be scheming, they should be teaming (c'mon)\n  Jokers be smoking and staying broken\n  Bitches be teasing, their money skeezin'\n  Niggas be creeping, baby mothers be weeping\n  I walk the street and camouflage my identity\n\n  My posse in the Haiti wear the mask\n  My crew in Jamaica wear the mask\n  Stick up kids bumping \"Fu-Gee-La\" wear the mask\n  Yeah, everybody wear the mask, but how long will it last? (Yeah, y'all)\n\n  Said\n  M to the A to the S to the K\n\n  Yo, man, we just rolled up there, shit was ill, man, it was ill\n  Yo, bullets everywhere, guns, smoke (yo, we put-, we puttin' motherfuckers on their ass)\n  Jokers fallin' off they porches just shootin', straight cowboys, man (you know what I'm sayin'? Yo, yo, you my nigga)\n  Straight motherfuckin' cowboys (yo, you always been my nigga)\n"},{"id":30327520,"name":"Cowboys (Album Version)","trackName":"Cowboys (Album Version)","artistName":"The Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":324.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(Bust) yeah, this is the Fugees (ah, yeah)\nOutsidaz in here (this happens on the block every day)\nSo, you wanna be a cowboy?\nEverybody, get your guns and meet me in the back right now\n\nOh-lay-hee\nEveryone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boys\nOh-lay-hee\n.45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die\n\nZen, zen-zen-zen, zen-zen-zen\nYou shot your bullet, but the bullet went\nDesperado, new word for rudeboy\nI pull out my gun and plug two like Trugoy\nWyclef, Pace Won, yo, this was how the West was won\nOur motto, a true desperado\nRappers want to be actors\nSo they play the Jesse James call-up card\nAnd get they bones fractured\n\nYou ain't got no guns, you off to the precinct\nInside tough guys are feminine like Sheena Easton\nWoman cry, woman cry, son still dies\nThrown off the building like The Fall Guy\nCaved in the grave 'cause you didn't know how to behave (huh)\nPlayin' cowboy, now you sleep with the slaves\nWho's the desperado sellin' bottles in the alley\nOn some villain shit, wearin' a mask like Jim Carrey?\n\nWith his gat cocked, stinkin' up the crack spot\nPacewon dies with both eyes on the jackpot\nThe town that I'm from beggars eat cat chowder\nSundance Kid is the everyday purse snatcher (gimme that)\nIf you see him coming, you better start running\nLike a terrorist, I guarantee you he'll be humming\nDynamite, dynamite, 'Clef I got the cash\nYo, let's skip town like Harlem Nights\n\nOh-lay-hee\nEveryone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boy\nOh-lay-hee\n.45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die\n\nWe make moves in stage coaches, Rah Digga likes the roaches\nIf anyone approaches, we like noches buenos\nThen I compose a poem for the many gun-slingers\nR&B singers perpetrating guns with two fingers\nMy style is perhaps one of the foulest\nI inhale large clouds of smoke through my chalice\n(Buckin' at stars) and write rhymes for hours\nThe ghetto missy, drinkin' whiskey sours (yeah)\n\nBust this scenario, can't no other niggas in the barrio\nFrom North to Ontario, tame us when we in stereo\n'Cause me and Rashida rock the battles\nIt's apparent you're no talent, 'cause you're blazin' in your saddle\nWatch these rap bitches get all up in your pockets\nThen bounce with accountants that give me good stock tips\n\n'Cause props is up (Rah Digga)\nDigga's through the roof, burnin' niggas like I'm 90 proof\nAnd for all y'all head beaters, the lead eaters\nThe cheaters, soon to be retreaters\nWhile mamacitas carry real heaters\nI rock the doobie and L rocks the Nubian twists\nNine-six, motherfuckers gettin' dissed\n\nOh-lay-hee\nEveryone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boys\nOh-lay-hee\n.45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die (yeah)\n\nWhen the Outs hooked up with the refugees\nIt be more niggas than the NAACP (mad niggas)\nComin' up on weed of all types\nSmokin' home-grown out tobacco pipes (c'mon)\nYou've got to know when to hold 'em (uh-huh)\nKnow when to fold 'em\n\nI can take the sunshine, piss in your wine\nSteal your concubine, walk away with your gold mine\nSo ooh, ahh, ahh-chi-ka\nMama-se, mama-sa, mama-ma-ku-sa\nFuck the sheriff, I shot John Wayne\nPush him off the runaway train in the movie Shane\nYeah, me and that kid, um, what's his name?\nThat would be me, Young Zee from No Brain (yeah)\n\nSmokin' pure from the health food store\nWhile my whore slap cops like Zsa Zsa Gabor\nFuck with Outs, it's like those Islam brothers\nWe march through your hood with a million motherfuckers\nSo let's get high off the fu-gee-la\nWhen the east is in the house like I'm Blahzay Blah'\n\nWhen pandemonium strikes and midnight hits\nFull moon splits soft niggas and the lunatics on some absurd shit\nYou talk back, hustlin' crack don't make you bigger\nNiggas who take your measurements quick, don't make it quicker\nStick and slide with vigor, city streets hot like liquor\n21 gun salutin', shootin' niggas from the roof and\nGot nerve to mouth about it and the weight you claim you movin'\nYour whole style is loose and we gon' sew it like it's cotton\n\nYou fail to recognize that everybody could get gotten\nThe bounty on your head says you dead by mañana\nPop babies whisperin' that there's a body drop behind the lot\nPolice blew up the spot and locked the whole block\nMedina is the east side of town lounge, never 'til we yawnin'\nGun play is regular, front page is the bonus\nLife will keep existing as I'm shittin' on opponents\nLife will keep existing as I'm shittin' on opponents\n\nOh-lay-hee\nEveryone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boy\nOh-lay-hee\n.45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die (cowboys)\n\nYo, man, it seem like we tryna get everybody, but they gettin' us\nYou know what I'm sayin'? (They got my nigga, man) but, you know (they shot my nigga)\nNo need to cry 'cause everything gon' be alright, man (you know who I am?)\nIt's gon' be alright, you know? You know, it's just ill, yo (they shoot my nigga, man)\nLast night, you know, all I seen was bullets and feet runnin' and backs, you know\nAnd when the smoke cleared it was a little joker on the ground, man\nNo, had to be no younger than 13, 14 years old (gonna kill somebody now)\nBlood pourin' from his head, his mother on her (gonna kill 'em, watch, watch)\nMother on her knees cryin', you know cryin' her head off\n\nTomorrow's headline is gonna be \"The Death of Another Nigga\"\nYou know what I'm sayin'? \"The Death of Another Nigga\", you know?\nThat's how it always is\nWe cryin' for a afterlife while they just steal this one","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.84] (Bust) yeah, this is the Fugees (ah, yeah)\n[00:02.21] Outsidaz in here (this happens on the block every day)\n[00:04.66] So, you wanna be a cowboy?\n[00:07.30] Everybody, get your guns and meet me in the back right now\n[00:10.77] Oh-lay-hee\n[00:12.70] Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boys\n[00:16.05] Oh-lay-hee\n[00:17.71] .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die\n[00:21.22] Zen, zen-zen-zen, zen-zen-zen\n[00:24.30] You shot your bullet, but the bullet went\n[00:26.31] Desperado, new word for rudeboy\n[00:29.53] I pull out my gun and plug two like Trugoy\n[00:31.90] Wyclef, Pace Won, yo, this was how the West was won\n[00:35.54] Our motto, a true desperado\n[00:37.75] Rappers want to be actors\n[00:39.21] So they play the Jesse James call-up card\n[00:41.43] And get they bones fractured\n[00:42.73] You ain't got no guns, you off to the precinct\n[00:45.16] Inside tough guys are feminine like Sheena Easton\n[00:48.12] Woman cry, woman cry, son still dies\n[00:50.86] Thrown off the building like The Fall Guy\n[00:53.51] Caved in the grave 'cause you didn't know how to behave (huh)\n[00:56.29] Playin' cowboy, now you sleep with the slaves\n[00:58.95] Who's the desperado sellin' bottles in the alley\n[01:01.18] On some villain shit, wearin' a mask like Jim Carrey?\n[01:04.69] With his gat cocked, stinkin' up the crack spot\n[01:06.95] Pacewon dies with both eyes on the jackpot\n[01:09.24] The town that I'm from beggars eat cat chowder\n[01:12.14] Sundance Kid is the everyday purse snatcher (gimme that)\n[01:15.34] If you see him coming, you better start running\n[01:17.44] Like a terrorist, I guarantee you he'll be humming\n[01:20.39] Dynamite, dynamite, 'Clef I got the cash\n[01:23.35] Yo, let's skip town like Harlem Nights\n[01:25.41] Oh-lay-hee\n[01:27.37] Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boy\n[01:30.73] Oh-lay-hee\n[01:32.42] .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die\n[01:35.14] We make moves in stage coaches, Rah Digga likes the roaches\n[01:38.46] If anyone approaches, we like noches buenos\n[01:41.67] Then I compose a poem for the many gun-slingers\n[01:44.19] R&B singers perpetrating guns with two fingers\n[01:46.78] My style is perhaps one of the foulest\n[01:49.43] I inhale large clouds of smoke through my chalice\n[01:52.13] (Buckin' at stars) and write rhymes for hours\n[01:54.68] The ghetto missy, drinkin' whiskey sours (yeah)\n[01:56.89] Bust this scenario, can't no other niggas in the barrio\n[01:59.81] From North to Ontario, tame us when we in stereo\n[02:03.40] 'Cause me and Rashida rock the battles\n[02:05.36] It's apparent you're no talent, 'cause you're blazin' in your saddle\n[02:08.34] Watch these rap bitches get all up in your pockets\n[02:10.76] Then bounce with accountants that give me good stock tips\n[02:14.22] 'Cause props is up (Rah Digga)\n[02:15.56] Digga's through the roof, burnin' niggas like I'm 90 proof\n[02:17.95] And for all y'all head beaters, the lead eaters\n[02:20.38] The cheaters, soon to be retreaters\n[02:22.08] While mamacitas carry real heaters\n[02:24.27] I rock the doobie and L rocks the Nubian twists\n[02:27.18] Nine-six, motherfuckers gettin' dissed\n[02:29.46] Oh-lay-hee\n[02:31.32] Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boys\n[02:34.81] Oh-lay-hee\n[02:36.76] .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die (yeah)\n[02:40.04] When the Outs hooked up with the refugees\n[02:42.29] It be more niggas than the NAACP (mad niggas)\n[02:45.96] Comin' up on weed of all types\n[02:48.30] Smokin' home-grown out tobacco pipes (c'mon)\n[02:50.42] You've got to know when to hold 'em (uh-huh)\n[02:53.89] Know when to fold 'em\n[02:55.54] I can take the sunshine, piss in your wine\n[02:58.78] Steal your concubine, walk away with your gold mine\n[03:01.46] So ooh, ahh, ahh-chi-ka\n[03:03.94] Mama-se, mama-sa, mama-ma-ku-sa\n[03:06.97] Fuck the sheriff, I shot John Wayne\n[03:09.27] Push him off the runaway train in the movie Shane\n[03:11.86] Yeah, me and that kid, um, what's his name?\n[03:15.06] That would be me, Young Zee from No Brain (yeah)\n[03:17.87] Smokin' pure from the health food store\n[03:20.05] While my whore slap cops like Zsa Zsa Gabor\n[03:23.16] Fuck with Outs, it's like those Islam brothers\n[03:25.33] We march through your hood with a million motherfuckers\n[03:28.60] So let's get high off the fu-gee-la\n[03:30.64] When the east is in the house like I'm Blahzay Blah'\n[03:33.46] When pandemonium strikes and midnight hits\n[03:35.65] Full moon splits soft niggas and the lunatics on some absurd shit\n[03:38.98] You talk back, hustlin' crack don't make you bigger\n[03:41.53] Niggas who take your measurements quick, don't make it quicker\n[03:44.22] Stick and slide with vigor, city streets hot like liquor\n[03:46.64] 21 gun salutin', shootin' niggas from the roof and\n[03:49.60] Got nerve to mouth about it and the weight you claim you movin'\n[03:52.08] Your whole style is loose and we gon' sew it like it's cotton\n[03:55.18] You fail to recognize that everybody could get gotten\n[03:57.52] The bounty on your head says you dead by mañana\n[03:59.94] Pop babies whisperin' that there's a body drop behind the lot\n[04:03.13] Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block\n[04:04.82] Medina is the east side of town lounge, never 'til we yawnin'\n[04:08.19] Gun play is regular, front page is the bonus\n[04:10.81] Life will keep existing as I'm shittin' on opponents\n[04:13.64] Life will keep existing as I'm shittin' on opponents\n[04:16.07] Oh-lay-hee\n[04:17.95] Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boy\n[04:21.43] Oh-lay-hee\n[04:23.23] .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die (cowboys)\n[04:29.70] \n[04:48.69] Yo, man, it seem like we tryna get everybody, but they gettin' us\n[04:51.70] You know what I'm sayin'? (They got my nigga, man) but, you know (they shot my nigga)\n[04:54.20] No need to cry 'cause everything gon' be alright, man (you know who I am?)\n[04:56.63] It's gon' be alright, you know? You know, it's just ill, yo (they shoot my nigga, man)\n[04:59.57] Last night, you know, all I seen was bullets and feet runnin' and backs, you know\n[05:03.57] And when the smoke cleared it was a little joker on the ground, man\n[05:05.99] No, had to be no younger than 13, 14 years old (gonna kill somebody now)\n[05:08.92] Blood pourin' from his head, his mother on her (gonna kill 'em, watch, watch)\n[05:11.18] Mother on her knees cryin', you know cryin' her head off\n[05:13.78] Tomorrow's headline is gonna be \"The Death of Another Nigga\"\n[05:16.76] You know what I'm sayin'? \"The Death of Another Nigga\", you know?\n[05:18.93] That's how it always is\n[05:20.23] We cryin' for a afterlife while they just steal this one\n[05:23.05] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Cowboys (Album Version)\n  artist: The Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 324000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: (Bust) yeah, this is the Fugees (ah, yeah)\n  start_ms: 840\n  end_ms: 2210\n- text: Outsidaz in here (this happens on the block every day)\n  start_ms: 2210\n  end_ms: 4660\n- text: So, you wanna be a cowboy?\n  start_ms: 4660\n  end_ms: 7300\n- text: Everybody, get your guns and meet me in the back right now\n  start_ms: 7300\n  end_ms: 10770\n- text: Oh-lay-hee\n  start_ms: 10770\n  end_ms: 12700\n- text: Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boys\n  start_ms: 12700\n  end_ms: 16050\n- text: Oh-lay-hee\n  start_ms: 16050\n  end_ms: 17710\n- text: .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die\n  start_ms: 17710\n  end_ms: 21220\n- text: Zen, zen-zen-zen, zen-zen-zen\n  start_ms: 21220\n  end_ms: 24300\n- text: You shot your bullet, but the bullet went\n  start_ms: 24300\n  end_ms: 26310\n- text: Desperado, new word for rudeboy\n  start_ms: 26310\n  end_ms: 29530\n- text: I pull out my gun and plug two like Trugoy\n  start_ms: 29530\n  end_ms: 31900\n- text: Wyclef, Pace Won, yo, this was how the West was won\n  start_ms: 31900\n  end_ms: 35540\n- text: Our motto, a true desperado\n  start_ms: 35540\n  end_ms: 37750\n- text: Rappers want to be actors\n  start_ms: 37750\n  end_ms: 39210\n- text: So they play the Jesse James call-up card\n  start_ms: 39210\n  end_ms: 41430\n- text: And get they bones fractured\n  start_ms: 41430\n  end_ms: 42730\n- text: You ain't got no guns, you off to the precinct\n  start_ms: 42730\n  end_ms: 45160\n- text: Inside tough guys are feminine like Sheena Easton\n  start_ms: 45160\n  end_ms: 48120\n- text: Woman cry, woman cry, son still dies\n  start_ms: 48120\n  end_ms: 50860\n- text: Thrown off the building like The Fall Guy\n  start_ms: 50860\n  end_ms: 53510\n- text: Caved in the grave 'cause you didn't know how to behave (huh)\n  start_ms: 53510\n  end_ms: 56290\n- text: Playin' cowboy, now you sleep with the slaves\n  start_ms: 56290\n  end_ms: 58950\n- text: Who's the desperado sellin' bottles in the alley\n  start_ms: 58950\n  end_ms: 61180\n- text: On some villain shit, wearin' a mask like Jim Carrey?\n  start_ms: 61180\n  end_ms: 64690\n- text: With his gat cocked, stinkin' up the crack spot\n  start_ms: 64690\n  end_ms: 66950\n- text: Pacewon dies with both eyes on the jackpot\n  start_ms: 66950\n  end_ms: 69240\n- text: The town that I'm from beggars eat cat chowder\n  start_ms: 69240\n  end_ms: 72140\n- text: Sundance Kid is the everyday purse snatcher (gimme that)\n  start_ms: 72140\n  end_ms: 75340\n- text: If you see him coming, you better start running\n  start_ms: 75340\n  end_ms: 77440\n- text: Like a terrorist, I guarantee you he'll be humming\n  start_ms: 77440\n  end_ms: 80390\n- text: Dynamite, dynamite, 'Clef I got the cash\n  start_ms: 80390\n  end_ms: 83350\n- text: Yo, let's skip town like Harlem Nights\n  start_ms: 83350\n  end_ms: 85410\n- text: Oh-lay-hee\n  start_ms: 85410\n  end_ms: 87370\n- text: Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boy\n  start_ms: 87370\n  end_ms: 90730\n- text: Oh-lay-hee\n  start_ms: 90730\n  end_ms: 92420\n- text: .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die\n  start_ms: 92420\n  end_ms: 95140\n- text: We make moves in stage coaches, Rah Digga likes the roaches\n  start_ms: 95140\n  end_ms: 98460\n- text: If anyone approaches, we like noches buenos\n  start_ms: 98460\n  end_ms: 101670\n- text: Then I compose a poem for the many gun-slingers\n  start_ms: 101670\n  end_ms: 104190\n- text: R&B singers perpetrating guns with two fingers\n  start_ms: 104190\n  end_ms: 106780\n- text: My style is perhaps one of the foulest\n  start_ms: 106780\n  end_ms: 109430\n- text: I inhale large clouds of smoke through my chalice\n  start_ms: 109430\n  end_ms: 112130\n- text: (Buckin' at stars) and write rhymes for hours\n  start_ms: 112130\n  end_ms: 114680\n- text: The ghetto missy, drinkin' whiskey sours (yeah)\n  start_ms: 114680\n  end_ms: 116890\n- text: Bust this scenario, can't no other niggas in the barrio\n  start_ms: 116890\n  end_ms: 119810\n- text: From North to Ontario, tame us when we in stereo\n  start_ms: 119810\n  end_ms: 123400\n- text: '''Cause me and Rashida rock the battles'\n  start_ms: 123400\n  end_ms: 125360\n- text: It's apparent you're no talent, 'cause you're blazin' in your saddle\n  start_ms: 125360\n  end_ms: 128340\n- text: Watch these rap bitches get all up in your pockets\n  start_ms: 128340\n  end_ms: 130760\n- text: Then bounce with accountants that give me good stock tips\n  start_ms: 130760\n  end_ms: 134220\n- text: '''Cause props is up (Rah Digga)'\n  start_ms: 134220\n  end_ms: 135560\n- text: Digga's through the roof, burnin' niggas like I'm 90 proof\n  start_ms: 135560\n  end_ms: 137950\n- text: And for all y'all head beaters, the lead eaters\n  start_ms: 137950\n  end_ms: 140380\n- text: The cheaters, soon to be retreaters\n  start_ms: 140380\n  end_ms: 142080\n- text: While mamacitas carry real heaters\n  start_ms: 142080\n  end_ms: 144270\n- text: I rock the doobie and L rocks the Nubian twists\n  start_ms: 144270\n  end_ms: 147180\n- text: Nine-six, motherfuckers gettin' dissed\n  start_ms: 147180\n  end_ms: 149460\n- text: Oh-lay-hee\n  start_ms: 149460\n  end_ms: 151320\n- text: Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boys\n  start_ms: 151320\n  end_ms: 154810\n- text: Oh-lay-hee\n  start_ms: 154810\n  end_ms: 156760\n- text: .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die (yeah)\n  start_ms: 156760\n  end_ms: 160040\n- text: When the Outs hooked up with the refugees\n  start_ms: 160040\n  end_ms: 162290\n- text: It be more niggas than the NAACP (mad niggas)\n  start_ms: 162290\n  end_ms: 165960\n- text: Comin' up on weed of all types\n  start_ms: 165960\n  end_ms: 168300\n- text: Smokin' home-grown out tobacco pipes (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 168300\n  end_ms: 170420\n- text: You've got to know when to hold 'em (uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 170420\n  end_ms: 173890\n- text: Know when to fold 'em\n  start_ms: 173890\n  end_ms: 175540\n- text: I can take the sunshine, piss in your wine\n  start_ms: 175540\n  end_ms: 178780\n- text: Steal your concubine, walk away with your gold mine\n  start_ms: 178780\n  end_ms: 181460\n- text: So ooh, ahh, ahh-chi-ka\n  start_ms: 181460\n  end_ms: 183940\n- text: Mama-se, mama-sa, mama-ma-ku-sa\n  start_ms: 183940\n  end_ms: 186970\n- text: Fuck the sheriff, I shot John Wayne\n  start_ms: 186970\n  end_ms: 189270\n- text: Push him off the runaway train in the movie Shane\n  start_ms: 189270\n  end_ms: 191860\n- text: Yeah, me and that kid, um, what's his name?\n  start_ms: 191860\n  end_ms: 195060\n- text: That would be me, Young Zee from No Brain (yeah)\n  start_ms: 195060\n  end_ms: 197870\n- text: Smokin' pure from the health food store\n  start_ms: 197870\n  end_ms: 200050\n- text: While my whore slap cops like Zsa Zsa Gabor\n  start_ms: 200050\n  end_ms: 203160\n- text: Fuck with Outs, it's like those Islam brothers\n  start_ms: 203160\n  end_ms: 205330\n- text: We march through your hood with a million motherfuckers\n  start_ms: 205330\n  end_ms: 208600\n- text: So let's get high off the fu-gee-la\n  start_ms: 208600\n  end_ms: 210640\n- text: When the east is in the house like I'm Blahzay Blah'\n  start_ms: 210640\n  end_ms: 213460\n- text: When pandemonium strikes and midnight hits\n  start_ms: 213460\n  end_ms: 215650\n- text: Full moon splits soft niggas and the lunatics on some absurd shit\n  start_ms: 215650\n  end_ms: 218980\n- text: You talk back, hustlin' crack don't make you bigger\n  start_ms: 218980\n  end_ms: 221530\n- text: Niggas who take your measurements quick, don't make it quicker\n  start_ms: 221530\n  end_ms: 224220\n- text: Stick and slide with vigor, city streets hot like liquor\n  start_ms: 224220\n  end_ms: 226640\n- text: 21 gun salutin', shootin' niggas from the roof and\n  start_ms: 226640\n  end_ms: 229600\n- text: Got nerve to mouth about it and the weight you claim you movin'\n  start_ms: 229600\n  end_ms: 232080\n- text: Your whole style is loose and we gon' sew it like it's cotton\n  start_ms: 232080\n  end_ms: 235180\n- text: You fail to recognize that everybody could get gotten\n  start_ms: 235180\n  end_ms: 237520\n- text: The bounty on your head says you dead by mañana\n  start_ms: 237520\n  end_ms: 239940\n- text: Pop babies whisperin' that there's a body drop behind the lot\n  start_ms: 239940\n  end_ms: 243130\n- text: Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block\n  start_ms: 243130\n  end_ms: 244820\n- text: Medina is the east side of town lounge, never 'til we yawnin'\n  start_ms: 244820\n  end_ms: 248190\n- text: Gun play is regular, front page is the bonus\n  start_ms: 248190\n  end_ms: 250810\n- text: Life will keep existing as I'm shittin' on opponents\n  start_ms: 250810\n  end_ms: 253640\n- text: Life will keep existing as I'm shittin' on opponents\n  start_ms: 253640\n  end_ms: 256070\n- text: Oh-lay-hee\n  start_ms: 256070\n  end_ms: 257950\n- text: Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boy\n  start_ms: 257950\n  end_ms: 261430\n- text: Oh-lay-hee\n  start_ms: 261430\n  end_ms: 263230\n- text: .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die (cowboys)\n  start_ms: 263230\n  end_ms: 269700\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 269700\n  end_ms: 288690\n- text: Yo, man, it seem like we tryna get everybody, but they gettin' us\n  start_ms: 288690\n  end_ms: 291700\n- text: You know what I'm sayin'? (They got my nigga, man) but, you know (they shot my nigga)\n  start_ms: 291700\n  end_ms: 294200\n- text: No need to cry 'cause everything gon' be alright, man (you know who I am?)\n  start_ms: 294200\n  end_ms: 296630\n- text: It's gon' be alright, you know? You know, it's just ill, yo (they shoot my nigga, man)\n  start_ms: 296630\n  end_ms: 299570\n- text: Last night, you know, all I seen was bullets and feet runnin' and backs, you know\n  start_ms: 299570\n  end_ms: 303570\n- text: And when the smoke cleared it was a little joker on the ground, man\n  start_ms: 303570\n  end_ms: 305990\n- text: No, had to be no younger than 13, 14 years old (gonna kill somebody now)\n  start_ms: 305990\n  end_ms: 308920\n- text: Blood pourin' from his head, his mother on her (gonna kill 'em, watch, watch)\n  start_ms: 308920\n  end_ms: 311180\n- text: Mother on her knees cryin', you know cryin' her head off\n  start_ms: 311180\n  end_ms: 313780\n- text: Tomorrow's headline is gonna be \"The Death of Another Nigga\"\n  start_ms: 313780\n  end_ms: 316760\n- text: You know what I'm sayin'? \"The Death of Another Nigga\", you know?\n  start_ms: 316760\n  end_ms: 318930\n- text: That's how it always is\n  start_ms: 318930\n  end_ms: 320230\n- text: We cryin' for a afterlife while they just steal this one\n  start_ms: 320230\n  end_ms: 323050\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 323050\nplain: |-\n  (Bust) yeah, this is the Fugees (ah, yeah)\n  Outsidaz in here (this happens on the block every day)\n  So, you wanna be a cowboy?\n  Everybody, get your guns and meet me in the back right now\n\n  Oh-lay-hee\n  Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boys\n  Oh-lay-hee\n  .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die\n\n  Zen, zen-zen-zen, zen-zen-zen\n  You shot your bullet, but the bullet went\n  Desperado, new word for rudeboy\n  I pull out my gun and plug two like Trugoy\n  Wyclef, Pace Won, yo, this was how the West was won\n  Our motto, a true desperado\n  Rappers want to be actors\n  So they play the Jesse James call-up card\n  And get they bones fractured\n\n  You ain't got no guns, you off to the precinct\n  Inside tough guys are feminine like Sheena Easton\n  Woman cry, woman cry, son still dies\n  Thrown off the building like The Fall Guy\n  Caved in the grave 'cause you didn't know how to behave (huh)\n  Playin' cowboy, now you sleep with the slaves\n  Who's the desperado sellin' bottles in the alley\n  On some villain shit, wearin' a mask like Jim Carrey?\n\n  With his gat cocked, stinkin' up the crack spot\n  Pacewon dies with both eyes on the jackpot\n  The town that I'm from beggars eat cat chowder\n  Sundance Kid is the everyday purse snatcher (gimme that)\n  If you see him coming, you better start running\n  Like a terrorist, I guarantee you he'll be humming\n  Dynamite, dynamite, 'Clef I got the cash\n  Yo, let's skip town like Harlem Nights\n\n  Oh-lay-hee\n  Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boy\n  Oh-lay-hee\n  .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die\n\n  We make moves in stage coaches, Rah Digga likes the roaches\n  If anyone approaches, we like noches buenos\n  Then I compose a poem for the many gun-slingers\n  R&B singers perpetrating guns with two fingers\n  My style is perhaps one of the foulest\n  I inhale large clouds of smoke through my chalice\n  (Buckin' at stars) and write rhymes for hours\n  The ghetto missy, drinkin' whiskey sours (yeah)\n\n  Bust this scenario, can't no other niggas in the barrio\n  From North to Ontario, tame us when we in stereo\n  'Cause me and Rashida rock the battles\n  It's apparent you're no talent, 'cause you're blazin' in your saddle\n  Watch these rap bitches get all up in your pockets\n  Then bounce with accountants that give me good stock tips\n\n  'Cause props is up (Rah Digga)\n  Digga's through the roof, burnin' niggas like I'm 90 proof\n  And for all y'all head beaters, the lead eaters\n  The cheaters, soon to be retreaters\n  While mamacitas carry real heaters\n  I rock the doobie and L rocks the Nubian twists\n  Nine-six, motherfuckers gettin' dissed\n\n  Oh-lay-hee\n  Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boys\n  Oh-lay-hee\n  .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die (yeah)\n\n  When the Outs hooked up with the refugees\n  It be more niggas than the NAACP (mad niggas)\n  Comin' up on weed of all types\n  Smokin' home-grown out tobacco pipes (c'mon)\n  You've got to know when to hold 'em (uh-huh)\n  Know when to fold 'em\n\n  I can take the sunshine, piss in your wine\n  Steal your concubine, walk away with your gold mine\n  So ooh, ahh, ahh-chi-ka\n  Mama-se, mama-sa, mama-ma-ku-sa\n  Fuck the sheriff, I shot John Wayne\n  Push him off the runaway train in the movie Shane\n  Yeah, me and that kid, um, what's his name?\n  That would be me, Young Zee from No Brain (yeah)\n\n  Smokin' pure from the health food store\n  While my whore slap cops like Zsa Zsa Gabor\n  Fuck with Outs, it's like those Islam brothers\n  We march through your hood with a million motherfuckers\n  So let's get high off the fu-gee-la\n  When the east is in the house like I'm Blahzay Blah'\n\n  When pandemonium strikes and midnight hits\n  Full moon splits soft niggas and the lunatics on some absurd shit\n  You talk back, hustlin' crack don't make you bigger\n  Niggas who take your measurements quick, don't make it quicker\n  Stick and slide with vigor, city streets hot like liquor\n  21 gun salutin', shootin' niggas from the roof and\n  Got nerve to mouth about it and the weight you claim you movin'\n  Your whole style is loose and we gon' sew it like it's cotton\n\n  You fail to recognize that everybody could get gotten\n  The bounty on your head says you dead by mañana\n  Pop babies whisperin' that there's a body drop behind the lot\n  Police blew up the spot and locked the whole block\n  Medina is the east side of town lounge, never 'til we yawnin'\n  Gun play is regular, front page is the bonus\n  Life will keep existing as I'm shittin' on opponents\n  Life will keep existing as I'm shittin' on opponents\n\n  Oh-lay-hee\n  Everyone wants to be a cowboy, grab your gun, boy\n  Oh-lay-hee\n  .45 by my side, do he live? No, the nigga die (cowboys)\n\n  Yo, man, it seem like we tryna get everybody, but they gettin' us\n  You know what I'm sayin'? (They got my nigga, man) but, you know (they shot my nigga)\n  No need to cry 'cause everything gon' be alright, man (you know who I am?)\n  It's gon' be alright, you know? You know, it's just ill, yo (they shoot my nigga, man)\n  Last night, you know, all I seen was bullets and feet runnin' and backs, you know\n  And when the smoke cleared it was a little joker on the ground, man\n  No, had to be no younger than 13, 14 years old (gonna kill somebody now)\n  Blood pourin' from his head, his mother on her (gonna kill 'em, watch, watch)\n  Mother on her knees cryin', you know cryin' her head off\n\n  Tomorrow's headline is gonna be \"The Death of Another Nigga\"\n  You know what I'm sayin'? \"The Death of Another Nigga\", you know?\n  That's how it always is\n  We cryin' for a afterlife while they just steal this one\n"},{"id":28192529,"name":"Zealots (Album Version)","trackName":"Zealots (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":261.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One two - I'm bout to set this off!\nLike this, hip-hoppers, check it\n\nAnother MC lose his life tonight, Lord\nI beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\nOh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa\n\nI haunt MCs like Mephistopheles, bringing swords of Damocles\nSecret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy\nAbstract raps simple with a street format\nGaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax\nCheck out the retrograde motion, kill the notion\nOf biting and recycling and calling it your own creation\nI feel like Rockwell, somebody's watching me\nI got no privacy whether on land or at sea\nAnd for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonic\nHypocrite, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit\nIt hurts don't it, a refugee come to your turf\nAnd take over the earth\n\nSee my rhymes, are the type of fly rhymes\nThat can only get down with my crew\nAnd if you try, to take lines or bite rhymes\nWe'll show you how the refugees do\n\nYeah, yeah behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymes\nTwo MCs can't occupy the same space at the same time\nIt's against the laws of physics\nSo weep as your sweet dreams break up like Eurythmics\nRap rejects, my tape deck, ejects projectile\nWhether Jew or gentile, I rank top percentile\nMany styles, more powerful than gamma rays\nMy grammar pays, like Carlos Santana plays \"Black Magic Woman\"\nSo while you fuming, I'm consuming mango juice under Polaris\nYou just embarrassed 'cause it's your last tango in Paris\nAnd even after all my logic and my theory\nI add a \"Motherfucker\" so you ignant niggas hear me\nCrew remember take notes, as I sow my rap oats\nAnd for you biting zealots, here's a quote\n\nAnother MC lose his life tonight, Lord\nI beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\nOh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa\n\nYou can try but you can't divide the tribe\nThese cats can't rap, mister author I feel no Vibe\nThe magazine says the girl should have went solo\nThe guys should stop rapping - vanish like Menudo\nTook it to the heart, but every actor plays his part\nAs long as someone was listening, I knew it was a start\nFor me to get my chance, grab my pen and revamp\nDo a cameo while everybody do the dance\nQuick now, cause you running out of luck-a\nPlaying Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka\nWhile you munching at your luncheon\nI'll be planning your assassination, then hit you like the Dutchman\n\nI compress sound sets with my rap DBX\nThen drop vocals on my 456 Ampex\nBring terror to the shop of horror\nAs she cry, \"mi amor,\" the phantom dies in the opera\nAnd to the younguns who carry gadgets\nAnd kill six days a week, then rest on the Sabbath\nViolence ain't necessary, unless you provoke me\nThen get buried like the great Mussolini\nAnd for you biting zealots, your rap styles are relics\nNo matter who you damage, you're still a false prophet\n\nAnother MC lose his life tonight, Lord\nI beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\nOh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa","syncedLyrics":"[00:04.93] One two - I'm bout to set this off!\n[00:08.75] Like this, hip-hoppers, check it\n[00:12.67] Another MC lose his life tonight, Lord\n[00:18.65] I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\n[00:23.79] Oh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa\n[00:29.58] I haunt MCs like Mephistopheles, bringing swords of Damocles\n[00:32.94] Secret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy\n[00:36.36] Abstract raps simple with a street format\n[00:39.00] Gaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax\n[00:42.27] Check out the retrograde motion, kill the notion\n[00:44.98] Of biting and recycling and calling it your own creation\n[00:48.31] I feel like Rockwell, somebody's watching me\n[00:50.97] I got no privacy whether on land or at sea\n[00:53.90] And for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonic\n[00:56.65] Hypocrite, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit\n[01:00.74] It hurts don't it, a refugee come to your turf\n[01:04.45] And take over the earth\n[01:07.78] See my rhymes, are the type of fly rhymes\n[01:13.47] That can only get down with my crew\n[01:17.85] And if you try, to take lines or bite rhymes\n[01:25.07] We'll show you how the refugees do\n[01:29.17] Yeah, yeah behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymes\n[01:33.18] Two MCs can't occupy the same space at the same time\n[01:36.63] It's against the laws of physics\n[01:38.43] So weep as your sweet dreams break up like Eurythmics\n[01:41.28] Rap rejects, my tape deck, ejects projectile\n[01:44.06] Whether Jew or gentile, I rank top percentile\n[01:47.42] Many styles, more powerful than gamma rays\n[01:50.27] My grammar pays, like Carlos Santana plays \"Black Magic Woman\"\n[01:53.62] So while you fuming, I'm consuming mango juice under Polaris\n[01:57.06] You just embarrassed 'cause it's your last tango in Paris\n[02:00.40] And even after all my logic and my theory\n[02:03.07] I add a \"Motherfucker\" so you ignant niggas hear me\n[02:06.33] Crew remember take notes, as I sow my rap oats\n[02:09.06] And for you biting zealots, here's a quote\n[02:12.76] Another MC lose his life tonight, Lord\n[02:18.61] I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\n[02:23.79] Oh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa\n[02:30.53] You can try but you can't divide the tribe\n[02:33.12] These cats can't rap, mister author I feel no Vibe\n[02:36.48] The magazine says the girl should have went solo\n[02:39.02] The guys should stop rapping - vanish like Menudo\n[02:42.13] Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his part\n[02:44.74] As long as someone was listening, I knew it was a start\n[02:48.03] For me to get my chance, grab my pen and revamp\n[02:51.09] Do a cameo while everybody do the dance\n[02:54.29] Quick now, cause you running out of luck-a\n[02:57.29] Playing Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka\n[03:00.56] While you munching at your luncheon\n[03:02.16] I'll be planning your assassination, then hit you like the Dutchman\n[03:05.73] I compress sound sets with my rap DBX\n[03:08.74] Then drop vocals on my 456 Ampex\n[03:11.74] Bring terror to the shop of horror\n[03:14.02] As she cry, \"mi amor,\" the phantom dies in the opera\n[03:18.37] And to the younguns who carry gadgets\n[03:20.68] And kill six days a week, then rest on the Sabbath\n[03:24.40] Violence ain't necessary, unless you provoke me\n[03:27.44] Then get buried like the great Mussolini\n[03:30.00] And for you biting zealots, your rap styles are relics\n[03:32.97] No matter who you damage, you're still a false prophet\n[03:36.76] Another MC lose his life tonight, Lord\n[03:42.77] I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\n[03:47.77] Oh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa\n[03:53.05] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Zealots (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 261000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: One two - I'm bout to set this off!\n  start_ms: 4930\n  end_ms: 8750\n- text: Like this, hip-hoppers, check it\n  start_ms: 8750\n  end_ms: 12670\n- text: Another MC lose his life tonight, Lord\n  start_ms: 12670\n  end_ms: 18650\n- text: I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\n  start_ms: 18650\n  end_ms: 23790\n- text: Oh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa\n  start_ms: 23790\n  end_ms: 29580\n- text: I haunt MCs like Mephistopheles, bringing swords of Damocles\n  start_ms: 29580\n  end_ms: 32940\n- text: Secret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy\n  start_ms: 32940\n  end_ms: 36360\n- text: Abstract raps simple with a street format\n  start_ms: 36360\n  end_ms: 39000\n- text: Gaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax\n  start_ms: 39000\n  end_ms: 42270\n- text: Check out the retrograde motion, kill the notion\n  start_ms: 42270\n  end_ms: 44980\n- text: Of biting and recycling and calling it your own creation\n  start_ms: 44980\n  end_ms: 48310\n- text: I feel like Rockwell, somebody's watching me\n  start_ms: 48310\n  end_ms: 50970\n- text: I got no privacy whether on land or at sea\n  start_ms: 50970\n  end_ms: 53900\n- text: And for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonic\n  start_ms: 53900\n  end_ms: 56650\n- text: Hypocrite, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit\n  start_ms: 56650\n  end_ms: 60740\n- text: It hurts don't it, a refugee come to your turf\n  start_ms: 60740\n  end_ms: 64450\n- text: And take over the earth\n  start_ms: 64450\n  end_ms: 67780\n- text: See my rhymes, are the type of fly rhymes\n  start_ms: 67780\n  end_ms: 73470\n- text: That can only get down with my crew\n  start_ms: 73470\n  end_ms: 77850\n- text: And if you try, to take lines or bite rhymes\n  start_ms: 77850\n  end_ms: 85070\n- text: We'll show you how the refugees do\n  start_ms: 85070\n  end_ms: 89170\n- text: Yeah, yeah behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymes\n  start_ms: 89170\n  end_ms: 93180\n- text: Two MCs can't occupy the same space at the same time\n  start_ms: 93180\n  end_ms: 96630\n- text: It's against the laws of physics\n  start_ms: 96630\n  end_ms: 98430\n- text: So weep as your sweet dreams break up like Eurythmics\n  start_ms: 98430\n  end_ms: 101280\n- text: Rap rejects, my tape deck, ejects projectile\n  start_ms: 101280\n  end_ms: 104060\n- text: Whether Jew or gentile, I rank top percentile\n  start_ms: 104060\n  end_ms: 107420\n- text: Many styles, more powerful than gamma rays\n  start_ms: 107420\n  end_ms: 110270\n- text: My grammar pays, like Carlos Santana plays \"Black Magic Woman\"\n  start_ms: 110270\n  end_ms: 113620\n- text: So while you fuming, I'm consuming mango juice under Polaris\n  start_ms: 113620\n  end_ms: 117060\n- text: You just embarrassed 'cause it's your last tango in Paris\n  start_ms: 117060\n  end_ms: 120400\n- text: And even after all my logic and my theory\n  start_ms: 120400\n  end_ms: 123070\n- text: I add a \"Motherfucker\" so you ignant niggas hear me\n  start_ms: 123070\n  end_ms: 126330\n- text: Crew remember take notes, as I sow my rap oats\n  start_ms: 126330\n  end_ms: 129060\n- text: And for you biting zealots, here's a quote\n  start_ms: 129060\n  end_ms: 132760\n- text: Another MC lose his life tonight, Lord\n  start_ms: 132760\n  end_ms: 138610\n- text: I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\n  start_ms: 138610\n  end_ms: 143790\n- text: Oh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa\n  start_ms: 143790\n  end_ms: 150530\n- text: You can try but you can't divide the tribe\n  start_ms: 150530\n  end_ms: 153120\n- text: These cats can't rap, mister author I feel no Vibe\n  start_ms: 153120\n  end_ms: 156480\n- text: The magazine says the girl should have went solo\n  start_ms: 156480\n  end_ms: 159020\n- text: The guys should stop rapping - vanish like Menudo\n  start_ms: 159020\n  end_ms: 162130\n- text: Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his part\n  start_ms: 162130\n  end_ms: 164740\n- text: As long as someone was listening, I knew it was a start\n  start_ms: 164740\n  end_ms: 168030\n- text: For me to get my chance, grab my pen and revamp\n  start_ms: 168030\n  end_ms: 171090\n- text: Do a cameo while everybody do the dance\n  start_ms: 171090\n  end_ms: 174290\n- text: Quick now, cause you running out of luck-a\n  start_ms: 174290\n  end_ms: 177290\n- text: Playing Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka\n  start_ms: 177290\n  end_ms: 180560\n- text: While you munching at your luncheon\n  start_ms: 180560\n  end_ms: 182160\n- text: I'll be planning your assassination, then hit you like the Dutchman\n  start_ms: 182160\n  end_ms: 185730\n- text: I compress sound sets with my rap DBX\n  start_ms: 185730\n  end_ms: 188740\n- text: Then drop vocals on my 456 Ampex\n  start_ms: 188740\n  end_ms: 191740\n- text: Bring terror to the shop of horror\n  start_ms: 191740\n  end_ms: 194020\n- text: As she cry, \"mi amor,\" the phantom dies in the opera\n  start_ms: 194020\n  end_ms: 198370\n- text: And to the younguns who carry gadgets\n  start_ms: 198370\n  end_ms: 200680\n- text: And kill six days a week, then rest on the Sabbath\n  start_ms: 200680\n  end_ms: 204400\n- text: Violence ain't necessary, unless you provoke me\n  start_ms: 204400\n  end_ms: 207440\n- text: Then get buried like the great Mussolini\n  start_ms: 207440\n  end_ms: 210000\n- text: And for you biting zealots, your rap styles are relics\n  start_ms: 210000\n  end_ms: 212970\n- text: No matter who you damage, you're still a false prophet\n  start_ms: 212970\n  end_ms: 216760\n- text: Another MC lose his life tonight, Lord\n  start_ms: 216760\n  end_ms: 222770\n- text: I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\n  start_ms: 222770\n  end_ms: 227770\n- text: Oh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa\n  start_ms: 227770\n  end_ms: 233050\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 233050\nplain: |-\n  One two - I'm bout to set this off!\n  Like this, hip-hoppers, check it\n\n  Another MC lose his life tonight, Lord\n  I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\n  Oh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa\n\n  I haunt MCs like Mephistopheles, bringing swords of Damocles\n  Secret service keep a close watch as if my name was Kennedy\n  Abstract raps simple with a street format\n  Gaze into the sky and measure planets by parallax\n  Check out the retrograde motion, kill the notion\n  Of biting and recycling and calling it your own creation\n  I feel like Rockwell, somebody's watching me\n  I got no privacy whether on land or at sea\n  And for you biting zealots, your raps are cacophonic\n  Hypocrite, critic, but deep inside you wish you had the pop hit\n  It hurts don't it, a refugee come to your turf\n  And take over the earth\n\n  See my rhymes, are the type of fly rhymes\n  That can only get down with my crew\n  And if you try, to take lines or bite rhymes\n  We'll show you how the refugees do\n\n  Yeah, yeah behold, as my odes, manifold on your rhymes\n  Two MCs can't occupy the same space at the same time\n  It's against the laws of physics\n  So weep as your sweet dreams break up like Eurythmics\n  Rap rejects, my tape deck, ejects projectile\n  Whether Jew or gentile, I rank top percentile\n  Many styles, more powerful than gamma rays\n  My grammar pays, like Carlos Santana plays \"Black Magic Woman\"\n  So while you fuming, I'm consuming mango juice under Polaris\n  You just embarrassed 'cause it's your last tango in Paris\n  And even after all my logic and my theory\n  I add a \"Motherfucker\" so you ignant niggas hear me\n  Crew remember take notes, as I sow my rap oats\n  And for you biting zealots, here's a quote\n\n  Another MC lose his life tonight, Lord\n  I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\n  Oh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa\n\n  You can try but you can't divide the tribe\n  These cats can't rap, mister author I feel no Vibe\n  The magazine says the girl should have went solo\n  The guys should stop rapping - vanish like Menudo\n  Took it to the heart, but every actor plays his part\n  As long as someone was listening, I knew it was a start\n  For me to get my chance, grab my pen and revamp\n  Do a cameo while everybody do the dance\n  Quick now, cause you running out of luck-a\n  Playing Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka\n  While you munching at your luncheon\n  I'll be planning your assassination, then hit you like the Dutchman\n\n  I compress sound sets with my rap DBX\n  Then drop vocals on my 456 Ampex\n  Bring terror to the shop of horror\n  As she cry, \"mi amor,\" the phantom dies in the opera\n  And to the younguns who carry gadgets\n  And kill six days a week, then rest on the Sabbath\n  Violence ain't necessary, unless you provoke me\n  Then get buried like the great Mussolini\n  And for you biting zealots, your rap styles are relics\n  No matter who you damage, you're still a false prophet\n\n  Another MC lose his life tonight, Lord\n  I beg that you pray to Jesus Christ, why\n  Oh Lord, father don't let him bury me, whoa\n"},{"id":30616961,"name":"Mista Mista (Album Version)","trackName":"Mista Mista (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":162.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Mista mista, can I get five dollars\nSo I can get something to eat?\nHell no motherfucka\nYou can't get no money from me\n\n'Cause every time I give you a dollar\nYou go get shot up with more and more needles\nAnd you tell me that you're drug free, drug free\n\nMista mista, I haven't ate anything for a week\nCan I get a quarter?\nHell no motherfucka\nWhat can a quarter get you? Nothing motherfucka\n\nYou are just fucked up\nOff them fucked up drugs\nYou know you need to fuckin' leave alone\nBut you keep telling me that you're drug free, motherfucka\n\nYou ain't drug free, you're a fiend\nAnd every time I try to help you\nYou pretend as if it's okay\nThen later on in the week\n\nYou go back to shootin' needles, to sniffin'\nOh motherfucka, but you told me you were drug free, drug free\nYou ain't drug free motherfucka\nSo you damn well, can't get no motherfuckin' money from me","syncedLyrics":"[00:09.07] Mista mista, can I get five dollars\n[00:17.22] So I can get something to eat?\n[00:23.58] Hell no motherfucka\n[00:27.93] You can't get no money from me\n[00:31.57] 'Cause every time I give you a dollar\n[00:35.50] You go get shot up with more and more needles\n[00:40.67] And you tell me that you're drug free, drug free\n[00:58.64] Mista mista, I haven't ate anything for a week\n[01:07.77] Can I get a quarter?\n[01:10.57] Hell no motherfucka\n[01:15.21] What can a quarter get you? Nothing motherfucka\n[01:21.40] You are just fucked up\n[01:23.24] Off them fucked up drugs\n[01:25.63] You know you need to fuckin' leave alone\n[01:27.97] But you keep telling me that you're drug free, motherfucka\n[01:36.03] You ain't drug free, you're a fiend\n[01:43.44] And every time I try to help you\n[01:51.94] You pretend as if it's okay\n[02:01.53] Then later on in the week\n[02:05.70] You go back to shootin' needles, to sniffin'\n[02:13.10] Oh motherfucka, but you told me you were drug free, drug free\n[02:24.60] You ain't drug free motherfucka\n[02:28.87] So you damn well, can't get no motherfuckin' money from me\n[02:39.26] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Mista Mista (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 162000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Mista mista, can I get five dollars\n  start_ms: 9070\n  end_ms: 17220\n- text: So I can get something to eat?\n  start_ms: 17220\n  end_ms: 23580\n- text: Hell no motherfucka\n  start_ms: 23580\n  end_ms: 27930\n- text: You can't get no money from me\n  start_ms: 27930\n  end_ms: 31570\n- text: '''Cause every time I give you a dollar'\n  start_ms: 31570\n  end_ms: 35500\n- text: You go get shot up with more and more needles\n  start_ms: 35500\n  end_ms: 40670\n- text: And you tell me that you're drug free, drug free\n  start_ms: 40670\n  end_ms: 58640\n- text: Mista mista, I haven't ate anything for a week\n  start_ms: 58640\n  end_ms: 67770\n- text: Can I get a quarter?\n  start_ms: 67770\n  end_ms: 70570\n- text: Hell no motherfucka\n  start_ms: 70570\n  end_ms: 75210\n- text: What can a quarter get you? Nothing motherfucka\n  start_ms: 75210\n  end_ms: 81400\n- text: You are just fucked up\n  start_ms: 81400\n  end_ms: 83240\n- text: Off them fucked up drugs\n  start_ms: 83240\n  end_ms: 85630\n- text: You know you need to fuckin' leave alone\n  start_ms: 85630\n  end_ms: 87970\n- text: But you keep telling me that you're drug free, motherfucka\n  start_ms: 87970\n  end_ms: 96030\n- text: You ain't drug free, you're a fiend\n  start_ms: 96030\n  end_ms: 103440\n- text: And every time I try to help you\n  start_ms: 103440\n  end_ms: 111940\n- text: You pretend as if it's okay\n  start_ms: 111940\n  end_ms: 121530\n- text: Then later on in the week\n  start_ms: 121530\n  end_ms: 125700\n- text: You go back to shootin' needles, to sniffin'\n  start_ms: 125700\n  end_ms: 133100\n- text: Oh motherfucka, but you told me you were drug free, drug free\n  start_ms: 133100\n  end_ms: 144600\n- text: You ain't drug free motherfucka\n  start_ms: 144600\n  end_ms: 148870\n- text: So you damn well, can't get no motherfuckin' money from me\n  start_ms: 148870\n  end_ms: 159260\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 159260\nplain: |-\n  Mista mista, can I get five dollars\n  So I can get something to eat?\n  Hell no motherfucka\n  You can't get no money from me\n\n  'Cause every time I give you a dollar\n  You go get shot up with more and more needles\n  And you tell me that you're drug free, drug free\n\n  Mista mista, I haven't ate anything for a week\n  Can I get a quarter?\n  Hell no motherfucka\n  What can a quarter get you? Nothing motherfucka\n\n  You are just fucked up\n  Off them fucked up drugs\n  You know you need to fuckin' leave alone\n  But you keep telling me that you're drug free, motherfucka\n\n  You ain't drug free, you're a fiend\n  And every time I try to help you\n  You pretend as if it's okay\n  Then later on in the week\n\n  You go back to shootin' needles, to sniffin'\n  Oh motherfucka, but you told me you were drug free, drug free\n  You ain't drug free motherfucka\n  So you damn well, can't get no motherfuckin' money from me\n"},{"id":30616955,"name":"Manifest/Outro (Album Version)","trackName":"Manifest/Outro (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":360.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Before I manifest a rhyme (Wyclef, preach it son)\nBefore I manifest a rhyme (Praswell) (hop on as we fuck out)\nBefore I manifest a rhyme (I used to go to church)\nBefore I manifest a rhyme (El Boogie drive the Hearse)\n\nI woke up this morning, I was feeling kind of high (high)\nIt was me, Jesus Christ, and Haile Selassie\nSelassie said, \"Greetings in the name of the Most High, Jah Rastafari\"\nChrist took a sip of the Amaretto\nPassed it down the table, said, \"Today I'll be betrayed by one of you, 12 Disciples\"\nGive me a clue, who could do this to you?\nThe kid on the block who make less money than you (calm down)\nCrooked cops pulled up, they offered him thirty pieces of silver\n\nAll he got to do is deliver the Savior\nRight on Bergen Street from bad luck to good luck\nMy cup runneth over, pass it down, guzzle up\nThe time have arrived, the prophecy will manifest\nI saw death, I got scared, butterflies on my chest\nFather, if possible, pass this cup before me\nYo, it's too late, I chose my destiny in Gethsemane\n\nBefore I manifest a rhyme\nBefore I manifest a rhyme\n\nYou see I loved hard once (once), but the love wasn't returned\nI found out the man I'd die for, he wasn't even concerned\nIn time, it turned, he tried to burn me like a perm\nThough my eyes saw the deception, my heart wouldn't let me learn\nFrom, um, some dumb woman was I\nAnd every time he'd lie, he would cry, and inside I'd die\nMy heart must have died a thousand deaths\nCompared myself to Toni Braxton, thought I'd never catch my breath\n\nNothing left, he stole the heart beating from my chest\nI tried to call the cops, that type of thief, they can't arrest\nPain suppressed will lead to cardiac arrest\nDiamonds deserve diamonds, but he convinced me I was worthless\nWhen my peoples would protest\nI told them mind they business, 'cause my shit was complex\n\nMore than just the sex\nI was blessed, but couldn't feel it like when I was caressed\nI'd spend nights clutching my breast, overwhelmed by God's test\nI was God's best, contemplatin' death with a Gillette\nBut no man is ever worth the paradise, manifest\n\nBefore I manifest a rhyme\nBefore I manifest a rhyme\nBefore I manifest a rhyme (uh, yeah)\nBefore I manifest a rhyme (Praswell)\n\nGun clap, shell cap, got them crawling on they backs (facts)\nCome through with the Fu, they be, \"Who the fuck is that?\"\nIt's unpredictable when my tongue performs Jiu-Jitsu\nCut you with my lyrics, stab you with my pencil (come on)\nLethal injection, witness protection\nRefugee camps under investigation\n\nGunshot bursts in all directions\nFor the wack MC's, we read your revelations (uh-huh)\nDischarge through your pores, get raw and kill boars\nI can Capleton when I'm on a tour\nSome manifest with slugs in they chest\nGod bless all the cowboys in the Wild Wild West (oleyee)\n\nBefore I manifest a rhyme\nBefore I manifest a rhyme\nBefore I manifest a rhyme\nBefore I manifest\n\nYo, my whole life was spent looking at myself through the eyes of a motherfucker that hate me\n(So what, man?)\nSee, it's easy for cats to kill other cats, it's just the dogs they got trouble with\nYou know what I'm sayin'?\nIt's time for us to stand up like men and women, yo\nWord up, we gotta stand up and do something about this\nYou know why?\nYou let a motherfucker kick you five times, they gon' kick you five times (true)\n\nYou let 'em kick you three times, they gon' kick you three times\nYou let 'em kick you twice, they gon' kick you twice\n(I wouldn't let that nigga kick me once, you know what I'm sayin'?)\nYou let 'em kick you once, they gon' kick you once\nBut if you break off the motherfuckin' feet\nAin't gon' be no more kicking goin' on, kid (oh, shit)\nAin't no more kickin'\nI learned that shit growing up in Newark, man, the Brick City\n\nThe Score was written by The Fugees\nProduced by Wyclef and Lauryn\nExecutive producers, my man Praswell\nAssociate producers, my man Salaam, Diamond D, Forté, Shawn the English King\nMusic supervised by my man Jerry, edited by my man Warren\nStunts by my man DJ Scribble and my man DJ Leon\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nWhat you askin' for what?\n\nGet outta here, get outta here!\nExcuse me\nInspired by my man Khalis Bayyan\nNarrated by my man Ras Baraka\nStarring Wyclef as the preacher's son, God bless\nLauryn as L Boogie\nAnd my man Praswell's that fucked up nigga, you know what I'm sayin'?\nJunior, that's my man Little Junior, grow, motherfucker\n\nAnd my man Telly as the Chinese store owner and the miscellaneous nigga\nAnd then known as the quick comer (he in and out)\nThat's right, and J as another miscellaneous nigga\nThis nigga that's always lying about his d-\nKnow what I'm sayin'?\nAnd check out the bonus by my man Wyclef Junior, hip-hop folk favorite, \"Mista Mista\"\nAnd by the way, brought to you by L Boog-Boog\nCaptain Ghetto, the pop master, Kool DJ","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Manifest/Outro (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 360000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Before I manifest a rhyme (Wyclef, preach it son)\n  Before I manifest a rhyme (Praswell) (hop on as we fuck out)\n  Before I manifest a rhyme (I used to go to church)\n  Before I manifest a rhyme (El Boogie drive the Hearse)\n\n  I woke up this morning, I was feeling kind of high (high)\n  It was me, Jesus Christ, and Haile Selassie\n  Selassie said, \"Greetings in the name of the Most High, Jah Rastafari\"\n  Christ took a sip of the Amaretto\n  Passed it down the table, said, \"Today I'll be betrayed by one of you, 12 Disciples\"\n  Give me a clue, who could do this to you?\n  The kid on the block who make less money than you (calm down)\n  Crooked cops pulled up, they offered him thirty pieces of silver\n\n  All he got to do is deliver the Savior\n  Right on Bergen Street from bad luck to good luck\n  My cup runneth over, pass it down, guzzle up\n  The time have arrived, the prophecy will manifest\n  I saw death, I got scared, butterflies on my chest\n  Father, if possible, pass this cup before me\n  Yo, it's too late, I chose my destiny in Gethsemane\n\n  Before I manifest a rhyme\n  Before I manifest a rhyme\n\n  You see I loved hard once (once), but the love wasn't returned\n  I found out the man I'd die for, he wasn't even concerned\n  In time, it turned, he tried to burn me like a perm\n  Though my eyes saw the deception, my heart wouldn't let me learn\n  From, um, some dumb woman was I\n  And every time he'd lie, he would cry, and inside I'd die\n  My heart must have died a thousand deaths\n  Compared myself to Toni Braxton, thought I'd never catch my breath\n\n  Nothing left, he stole the heart beating from my chest\n  I tried to call the cops, that type of thief, they can't arrest\n  Pain suppressed will lead to cardiac arrest\n  Diamonds deserve diamonds, but he convinced me I was worthless\n  When my peoples would protest\n  I told them mind they business, 'cause my shit was complex\n\n  More than just the sex\n  I was blessed, but couldn't feel it like when I was caressed\n  I'd spend nights clutching my breast, overwhelmed by God's test\n  I was God's best, contemplatin' death with a Gillette\n  But no man is ever worth the paradise, manifest\n\n  Before I manifest a rhyme\n  Before I manifest a rhyme\n  Before I manifest a rhyme (uh, yeah)\n  Before I manifest a rhyme (Praswell)\n\n  Gun clap, shell cap, got them crawling on they backs (facts)\n  Come through with the Fu, they be, \"Who the fuck is that?\"\n  It's unpredictable when my tongue performs Jiu-Jitsu\n  Cut you with my lyrics, stab you with my pencil (come on)\n  Lethal injection, witness protection\n  Refugee camps under investigation\n\n  Gunshot bursts in all directions\n  For the wack MC's, we read your revelations (uh-huh)\n  Discharge through your pores, get raw and kill boars\n  I can Capleton when I'm on a tour\n  Some manifest with slugs in they chest\n  God bless all the cowboys in the Wild Wild West (oleyee)\n\n  Before I manifest a rhyme\n  Before I manifest a rhyme\n  Before I manifest a rhyme\n  Before I manifest\n\n  Yo, my whole life was spent looking at myself through the eyes of a motherfucker that hate me\n  (So what, man?)\n  See, it's easy for cats to kill other cats, it's just the dogs they got trouble with\n  You know what I'm sayin'?\n  It's time for us to stand up like men and women, yo\n  Word up, we gotta stand up and do something about this\n  You know why?\n  You let a motherfucker kick you five times, they gon' kick you five times (true)\n\n  You let 'em kick you three times, they gon' kick you three times\n  You let 'em kick you twice, they gon' kick you twice\n  (I wouldn't let that nigga kick me once, you know what I'm sayin'?)\n  You let 'em kick you once, they gon' kick you once\n  But if you break off the motherfuckin' feet\n  Ain't gon' be no more kicking goin' on, kid (oh, shit)\n  Ain't no more kickin'\n  I learned that shit growing up in Newark, man, the Brick City\n\n  The Score was written by The Fugees\n  Produced by Wyclef and Lauryn\n  Executive producers, my man Praswell\n  Associate producers, my man Salaam, Diamond D, Forté, Shawn the English King\n  Music supervised by my man Jerry, edited by my man Warren\n  Stunts by my man DJ Scribble and my man DJ Leon\n  Know what I'm sayin'?\n  What you askin' for what?\n\n  Get outta here, get outta here!\n  Excuse me\n  Inspired by my man Khalis Bayyan\n  Narrated by my man Ras Baraka\n  Starring Wyclef as the preacher's son, God bless\n  Lauryn as L Boogie\n  And my man Praswell's that fucked up nigga, you know what I'm sayin'?\n  Junior, that's my man Little Junior, grow, motherfucker\n\n  And my man Telly as the Chinese store owner and the miscellaneous nigga\n  And then known as the quick comer (he in and out)\n  That's right, and J as another miscellaneous nigga\n  This nigga that's always lying about his d-\n  Know what I'm sayin'?\n  And check out the bonus by my man Wyclef Junior, hip-hop folk favorite, \"Mista Mista\"\n  And by the way, brought to you by L Boog-Boog\n  Captain Ghetto, the pop master, Kool DJ\n"},{"id":26702763,"name":"Family Business (Album Version)","trackName":"Family Business (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":343.745306,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Where I was born, nothing is promised\nMy life is filled with less hope than the prophecies of Nostradamus\nOmega marks the ending of predictability, birth of agility\nWho will it be to test me and expose their futility\nIron like a lion from Zion stop tryin' so hard\nI think I smell your brain cells fryin'\nThe family's behind you if you're worthy\nPhilosophies developed deep in the back streets of dirty Jersey\nTroops with scully hats and Timberland boots\nNo more break-dancing for loot, niggas hustle and shoot\nIn the Garden State, it grows stink weeds and criminals\nGovernment funds are minimal, oppression's subliminal\n\nThese days its hard for we to find peace of mind\nBetween insanity and sanity there lies a thin line\nSome dwell in hotels with Jezebels\nA stone age and fall a victim to the Plague\nUnclean bad dreams of Wyclef being a fiend\nOne last kiss from my sweet serpentine\nEliminate then break\nNavigate to rejuvenate thoughts of suicide with my nickel plate\nReconcilation came from my enemy-friend\nWho said family don't bend, we stay silent till the end.\nNow who would think that your best friend\nWould be your worst enemy and your enemy your best friend\nStare into the air inspiration from the atmosphere\nI think of old ghosts, that ain't even here\nLike Alex Haley take notes on this Biography\nMy family tree consists of street refugees\nA ghetto land, where we talk slang\nStolen cars bang, like my chitty bang-bang sh-bang\nFor the heads, we ain't sellin' cocaine today\nSo refrain and let my family reign okay\n\nJust walkin' the streets death can take you away\nIt's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\nAt night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\nSo defend the family that's the code to obey\n\nBut if I fall asleep and death takes me away\nDon't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\nAt night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\nSo the family sticks together and we never betray\n\nNah fuck that, fifty-two pick up, no cops around\nFifty-two thousand in cash, I don't want no savings bonds\nHave the money ready, I smell something fishy\nYour wife's in my custody, one false move and you'll find her body in the sea\nThat's the voice of the kid, that's the kidnapper\nI do my work and then I catch my ticket to Jamaica\nMeet me in the alley, make sure you bring the money\nThis ain't the seventies I'm far from a jive turkey\n\nMy circle it can't be broken, open, cut-throatin', provokin'\nRecord promotin, tokens chokin' on they words like smoke and\nCause we soft spoken, doesn't mean that we've forgotten\nYour bootie smells rotten and one day you will be gotten\nSee joker's is scatter-brained, their focus is unrestrained\nMy army is trained, you never find us beefin' in vain\nCause I've seen fire and I've seen rain\nYou claim fame, while modest niggas remain\nI can judge a character like Ito judge a verdict\nAnd if you bringin' threats I give you sex if I ain't heard it\nSee poppin' shit's about your attitude and how you word it\nI've seen the biggest niggas on the block get murdered and they deserverd it\nOr so the beast said when they served it\nThat shit is nervous So what's my purpose? Family, we must preserve it\nYour number's retired I hope you like the hell fires\nYou'll be screamin' Murder she Wrote like Chaka Demus and Pliars\n\nJust walkin' the streets death can take you away\nIt's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\nAt night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\nSo defend the family that's the code to obey\n\nIf I should fall asleep and death takes me away\nDon't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\nAt night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\nSo the family stick together and we never betray\n\nWe used to jump rope, but now we gun hope\nBustin' shots off of project roof tops sending signals with the blunt smoke\nOck, don't talk a lot if you can't hold it in lock\nIf you think lips sink ships, imagine full glock clips.\nI hold a glass of Remy Martin gettin' milks by the carton\nExtortin' the light weights for thinkin' they important\nThe night pays and heavenly ways ain't nothin' free aye\nKnowledge of your family and steppin' to your B.I.\nYou see I, stay on top of shit like a fly\nMy niggas reach when they got beef then jet down to South Beach\nYo mouthpiece is yappin' I hear it in your rap and\nMy family is thick so that bullshit could never happen.\n\nJust walkin' the streets death can take you away\nIt's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\nAt night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\nSo defend the family that's the code to obey\n\nIf I should fall asleep and death takes me away\nDon't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\nAt night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\nSo the family stick together and we never betray.","syncedLyrics":"[00:10.21] Where I was born, nothing is promised\n[00:11.93] My life is filled with less hope than the prophecies of Nostradamus\n[00:15.32] Omega marks the ending of predictability, birth of agility\n[00:18.63] Who will it be to test me and expose their futility\n[00:21.41] Iron like a lion from Zion stop tryin' so hard\n[00:24.04] I think I smell your brain cells fryin'\n[00:25.98] The family's behind you if you're worthy\n[00:28.00] Philosophies developed deep in the back streets of dirty Jersey\n[00:31.58] Troops with scully hats and Timberland boots\n[00:33.68] No more break-dancing for loot, niggas hustle and shoot\n[00:36.45] In the Garden State, it grows stink weeds and criminals\n[00:39.44] Government funds are minimal, oppression's subliminal\n[00:41.99] These days its hard for we to find peace of mind\n[00:44.64] Between insanity and sanity there lies a thin line\n[00:47.51] Some dwell in hotels with Jezebels\n[00:50.09] A stone age and fall a victim to the Plague\n[00:52.95] Unclean bad dreams of Wyclef being a fiend\n[00:55.62] One last kiss from my sweet serpentine\n[00:58.32] Eliminate then break\n[00:59.74] Navigate to rejuvenate thoughts of suicide with my nickel plate\n[01:04.48] Reconcilation came from my enemy-friend\n[01:05.94] Who said family don't bend, we stay silent till the end.\n[01:08.88] Now who would think that your best friend\n[01:10.84] Would be your worst enemy and your enemy your best friend\n[01:14.05] Stare into the air inspiration from the atmosphere\n[01:16.89] I think of old ghosts, that ain't even here\n[01:19.59] Like Alex Haley take notes on this Biography\n[01:22.05] My family tree consists of street refugees\n[01:24.94] A ghetto land, where we talk slang\n[01:27.31] Stolen cars bang, like my chitty bang-bang sh-bang\n[01:30.33] For the heads, we ain't sellin' cocaine today\n[01:33.06] So refrain and let my family reign okay\n[01:35.05] Just walkin' the streets death can take you away\n[01:37.95] It's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\n[01:40.30] At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n[01:42.96] So defend the family that's the code to obey\n[01:45.50] But if I fall asleep and death takes me away\n[01:48.49] Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\n[01:51.06] At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n[01:53.68] So the family sticks together and we never betray\n[01:56.37] Nah fuck that, fifty-two pick up, no cops around\n[01:59.22] Fifty-two thousand in cash, I don't want no savings bonds\n[02:02.02] Have the money ready, I smell something fishy\n[02:04.67] Your wife's in my custody, one false move and you'll find her body in the sea\n[02:07.66] That's the voice of the kid, that's the kidnapper\n[02:10.15] I do my work and then I catch my ticket to Jamaica\n[02:13.06] Meet me in the alley, make sure you bring the money\n[02:15.51] This ain't the seventies I'm far from a jive turkey\n[02:17.66] My circle it can't be broken, open, cut-throatin', provokin'\n[02:20.58] Record promotin, tokens chokin' on they words like smoke and\n[02:23.16] Cause we soft spoken, doesn't mean that we've forgotten\n[02:25.55] Your bootie smells rotten and one day you will be gotten\n[02:28.23] See joker's is scatter-brained, their focus is unrestrained\n[02:30.94] My army is trained, you never find us beefin' in vain\n[02:34.50] Cause I've seen fire and I've seen rain\n[02:36.78] You claim fame, while modest niggas remain\n[02:38.65] I can judge a character like Ito judge a verdict\n[02:41.29] And if you bringin' threats I give you sex if I ain't heard it\n[02:43.83] See poppin' shit's about your attitude and how you word it\n[02:46.58] I've seen the biggest niggas on the block get murdered and they deserverd it\n[02:49.81] Or so the beast said when they served it\n[02:51.76] That shit is nervous So what's my purpose? Family, we must preserve it\n[02:54.95] Your number's retired I hope you like the hell fires\n[02:57.66] You'll be screamin' Murder she Wrote like Chaka Demus and Pliars\n[03:00.22] Just walkin' the streets death can take you away\n[03:03.15] It's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\n[03:05.53] At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n[03:08.22] So defend the family that's the code to obey\n[03:10.74] If I should fall asleep and death takes me away\n[03:13.80] Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\n[03:16.20] At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n[03:18.81] So the family stick together and we never betray\n[03:21.42] We used to jump rope, but now we gun hope\n[03:23.53] Bustin' shots off of project roof tops sending signals with the blunt smoke\n[03:27.19] Ock, don't talk a lot if you can't hold it in lock\n[03:29.48] If you think lips sink ships, imagine full glock clips.\n[03:32.17] I hold a glass of Remy Martin gettin' milks by the carton\n[03:35.05] Extortin' the light weights for thinkin' they important\n[03:37.70] The night pays and heavenly ways ain't nothin' free aye\n[03:40.63] Knowledge of your family and steppin' to your B.I.\n[03:43.04] You see I, stay on top of shit like a fly\n[03:45.36] My niggas reach when they got beef then jet down to South Beach\n[03:48.39] Yo mouthpiece is yappin' I hear it in your rap and\n[03:51.08] My family is thick so that bullshit could never happen.\n[03:53.60] Just walkin' the streets death can take you away\n[03:56.49] It's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\n[03:58.86] At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n[04:01.54] So defend the family that's the code to obey\n[04:04.09] If I should fall asleep and death takes me away\n[04:07.09] Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\n[04:09.53] At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n[04:12.20] So the family stick together and we never betray.\n[04:14.84] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Family Business (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 343745\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Where I was born, nothing is promised\n  start_ms: 10210\n  end_ms: 11930\n- text: My life is filled with less hope than the prophecies of Nostradamus\n  start_ms: 11930\n  end_ms: 15320\n- text: Omega marks the ending of predictability, birth of agility\n  start_ms: 15320\n  end_ms: 18630\n- text: Who will it be to test me and expose their futility\n  start_ms: 18630\n  end_ms: 21410\n- text: Iron like a lion from Zion stop tryin' so hard\n  start_ms: 21410\n  end_ms: 24040\n- text: I think I smell your brain cells fryin'\n  start_ms: 24040\n  end_ms: 25980\n- text: The family's behind you if you're worthy\n  start_ms: 25980\n  end_ms: 28000\n- text: Philosophies developed deep in the back streets of dirty Jersey\n  start_ms: 28000\n  end_ms: 31580\n- text: Troops with scully hats and Timberland boots\n  start_ms: 31580\n  end_ms: 33680\n- text: No more break-dancing for loot, niggas hustle and shoot\n  start_ms: 33680\n  end_ms: 36450\n- text: In the Garden State, it grows stink weeds and criminals\n  start_ms: 36450\n  end_ms: 39440\n- text: Government funds are minimal, oppression's subliminal\n  start_ms: 39440\n  end_ms: 41990\n- text: These days its hard for we to find peace of mind\n  start_ms: 41990\n  end_ms: 44640\n- text: Between insanity and sanity there lies a thin line\n  start_ms: 44640\n  end_ms: 47510\n- text: Some dwell in hotels with Jezebels\n  start_ms: 47510\n  end_ms: 50090\n- text: A stone age and fall a victim to the Plague\n  start_ms: 50090\n  end_ms: 52950\n- text: Unclean bad dreams of Wyclef being a fiend\n  start_ms: 52950\n  end_ms: 55620\n- text: One last kiss from my sweet serpentine\n  start_ms: 55620\n  end_ms: 58320\n- text: Eliminate then break\n  start_ms: 58320\n  end_ms: 59740\n- text: Navigate to rejuvenate thoughts of suicide with my nickel plate\n  start_ms: 59740\n  end_ms: 64480\n- text: Reconcilation came from my enemy-friend\n  start_ms: 64480\n  end_ms: 65940\n- text: Who said family don't bend, we stay silent till the end.\n  start_ms: 65940\n  end_ms: 68880\n- text: Now who would think that your best friend\n  start_ms: 68880\n  end_ms: 70840\n- text: Would be your worst enemy and your enemy your best friend\n  start_ms: 70840\n  end_ms: 74050\n- text: Stare into the air inspiration from the atmosphere\n  start_ms: 74050\n  end_ms: 76890\n- text: I think of old ghosts, that ain't even here\n  start_ms: 76890\n  end_ms: 79590\n- text: Like Alex Haley take notes on this Biography\n  start_ms: 79590\n  end_ms: 82050\n- text: My family tree consists of street refugees\n  start_ms: 82050\n  end_ms: 84940\n- text: A ghetto land, where we talk slang\n  start_ms: 84940\n  end_ms: 87310\n- text: Stolen cars bang, like my chitty bang-bang sh-bang\n  start_ms: 87310\n  end_ms: 90330\n- text: For the heads, we ain't sellin' cocaine today\n  start_ms: 90330\n  end_ms: 93060\n- text: So refrain and let my family reign okay\n  start_ms: 93060\n  end_ms: 95050\n- text: Just walkin' the streets death can take you away\n  start_ms: 95050\n  end_ms: 97950\n- text: It's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\n  start_ms: 97950\n  end_ms: 100300\n- text: At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  start_ms: 100300\n  end_ms: 102960\n- text: So defend the family that's the code to obey\n  start_ms: 102960\n  end_ms: 105500\n- text: But if I fall asleep and death takes me away\n  start_ms: 105500\n  end_ms: 108490\n- text: Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\n  start_ms: 108490\n  end_ms: 111060\n- text: At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  start_ms: 111060\n  end_ms: 113680\n- text: So the family sticks together and we never betray\n  start_ms: 113680\n  end_ms: 116370\n- text: Nah fuck that, fifty-two pick up, no cops around\n  start_ms: 116370\n  end_ms: 119220\n- text: Fifty-two thousand in cash, I don't want no savings bonds\n  start_ms: 119220\n  end_ms: 122020\n- text: Have the money ready, I smell something fishy\n  start_ms: 122020\n  end_ms: 124670\n- text: Your wife's in my custody, one false move and you'll find her body in the sea\n  start_ms: 124670\n  end_ms: 127660\n- text: That's the voice of the kid, that's the kidnapper\n  start_ms: 127660\n  end_ms: 130150\n- text: I do my work and then I catch my ticket to Jamaica\n  start_ms: 130150\n  end_ms: 133060\n- text: Meet me in the alley, make sure you bring the money\n  start_ms: 133060\n  end_ms: 135510\n- text: This ain't the seventies I'm far from a jive turkey\n  start_ms: 135510\n  end_ms: 137660\n- text: My circle it can't be broken, open, cut-throatin', provokin'\n  start_ms: 137660\n  end_ms: 140580\n- text: Record promotin, tokens chokin' on they words like smoke and\n  start_ms: 140580\n  end_ms: 143160\n- text: Cause we soft spoken, doesn't mean that we've forgotten\n  start_ms: 143160\n  end_ms: 145550\n- text: Your bootie smells rotten and one day you will be gotten\n  start_ms: 145550\n  end_ms: 148230\n- text: See joker's is scatter-brained, their focus is unrestrained\n  start_ms: 148230\n  end_ms: 150940\n- text: My army is trained, you never find us beefin' in vain\n  start_ms: 150940\n  end_ms: 154500\n- text: Cause I've seen fire and I've seen rain\n  start_ms: 154500\n  end_ms: 156780\n- text: You claim fame, while modest niggas remain\n  start_ms: 156780\n  end_ms: 158650\n- text: I can judge a character like Ito judge a verdict\n  start_ms: 158650\n  end_ms: 161290\n- text: And if you bringin' threats I give you sex if I ain't heard it\n  start_ms: 161290\n  end_ms: 163830\n- text: See poppin' shit's about your attitude and how you word it\n  start_ms: 163830\n  end_ms: 166580\n- text: I've seen the biggest niggas on the block get murdered and they deserverd it\n  start_ms: 166580\n  end_ms: 169810\n- text: Or so the beast said when they served it\n  start_ms: 169810\n  end_ms: 171760\n- text: That shit is nervous So what's my purpose? Family, we must preserve it\n  start_ms: 171760\n  end_ms: 174950\n- text: Your number's retired I hope you like the hell fires\n  start_ms: 174950\n  end_ms: 177660\n- text: You'll be screamin' Murder she Wrote like Chaka Demus and Pliars\n  start_ms: 177660\n  end_ms: 180220\n- text: Just walkin' the streets death can take you away\n  start_ms: 180220\n  end_ms: 183150\n- text: It's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\n  start_ms: 183150\n  end_ms: 185530\n- text: At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  start_ms: 185530\n  end_ms: 188220\n- text: So defend the family that's the code to obey\n  start_ms: 188220\n  end_ms: 190740\n- text: If I should fall asleep and death takes me away\n  start_ms: 190740\n  end_ms: 193800\n- text: Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\n  start_ms: 193800\n  end_ms: 196200\n- text: At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  start_ms: 196200\n  end_ms: 198810\n- text: So the family stick together and we never betray\n  start_ms: 198810\n  end_ms: 201420\n- text: We used to jump rope, but now we gun hope\n  start_ms: 201420\n  end_ms: 203530\n- text: Bustin' shots off of project roof tops sending signals with the blunt smoke\n  start_ms: 203530\n  end_ms: 207190\n- text: Ock, don't talk a lot if you can't hold it in lock\n  start_ms: 207190\n  end_ms: 209480\n- text: If you think lips sink ships, imagine full glock clips.\n  start_ms: 209480\n  end_ms: 212170\n- text: I hold a glass of Remy Martin gettin' milks by the carton\n  start_ms: 212170\n  end_ms: 215050\n- text: Extortin' the light weights for thinkin' they important\n  start_ms: 215050\n  end_ms: 217700\n- text: The night pays and heavenly ways ain't nothin' free aye\n  start_ms: 217700\n  end_ms: 220630\n- text: Knowledge of your family and steppin' to your B.I.\n  start_ms: 220630\n  end_ms: 223040\n- text: You see I, stay on top of shit like a fly\n  start_ms: 223040\n  end_ms: 225360\n- text: My niggas reach when they got beef then jet down to South Beach\n  start_ms: 225360\n  end_ms: 228390\n- text: Yo mouthpiece is yappin' I hear it in your rap and\n  start_ms: 228390\n  end_ms: 231080\n- text: My family is thick so that bullshit could never happen.\n  start_ms: 231080\n  end_ms: 233600\n- text: Just walkin' the streets death can take you away\n  start_ms: 233600\n  end_ms: 236490\n- text: It's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\n  start_ms: 236490\n  end_ms: 238860\n- text: At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  start_ms: 238860\n  end_ms: 241540\n- text: So defend the family that's the code to obey\n  start_ms: 241540\n  end_ms: 244090\n- text: If I should fall asleep and death takes me away\n  start_ms: 244090\n  end_ms: 247090\n- text: Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\n  start_ms: 247090\n  end_ms: 249530\n- text: At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  start_ms: 249530\n  end_ms: 252200\n- text: So the family stick together and we never betray.\n  start_ms: 252200\n  end_ms: 254840\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 254840\nplain: |-\n  Where I was born, nothing is promised\n  My life is filled with less hope than the prophecies of Nostradamus\n  Omega marks the ending of predictability, birth of agility\n  Who will it be to test me and expose their futility\n  Iron like a lion from Zion stop tryin' so hard\n  I think I smell your brain cells fryin'\n  The family's behind you if you're worthy\n  Philosophies developed deep in the back streets of dirty Jersey\n  Troops with scully hats and Timberland boots\n  No more break-dancing for loot, niggas hustle and shoot\n  In the Garden State, it grows stink weeds and criminals\n  Government funds are minimal, oppression's subliminal\n\n  These days its hard for we to find peace of mind\n  Between insanity and sanity there lies a thin line\n  Some dwell in hotels with Jezebels\n  A stone age and fall a victim to the Plague\n  Unclean bad dreams of Wyclef being a fiend\n  One last kiss from my sweet serpentine\n  Eliminate then break\n  Navigate to rejuvenate thoughts of suicide with my nickel plate\n  Reconcilation came from my enemy-friend\n  Who said family don't bend, we stay silent till the end.\n  Now who would think that your best friend\n  Would be your worst enemy and your enemy your best friend\n  Stare into the air inspiration from the atmosphere\n  I think of old ghosts, that ain't even here\n  Like Alex Haley take notes on this Biography\n  My family tree consists of street refugees\n  A ghetto land, where we talk slang\n  Stolen cars bang, like my chitty bang-bang sh-bang\n  For the heads, we ain't sellin' cocaine today\n  So refrain and let my family reign okay\n\n  Just walkin' the streets death can take you away\n  It's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\n  At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  So defend the family that's the code to obey\n\n  But if I fall asleep and death takes me away\n  Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\n  At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  So the family sticks together and we never betray\n\n  Nah fuck that, fifty-two pick up, no cops around\n  Fifty-two thousand in cash, I don't want no savings bonds\n  Have the money ready, I smell something fishy\n  Your wife's in my custody, one false move and you'll find her body in the sea\n  That's the voice of the kid, that's the kidnapper\n  I do my work and then I catch my ticket to Jamaica\n  Meet me in the alley, make sure you bring the money\n  This ain't the seventies I'm far from a jive turkey\n\n  My circle it can't be broken, open, cut-throatin', provokin'\n  Record promotin, tokens chokin' on they words like smoke and\n  Cause we soft spoken, doesn't mean that we've forgotten\n  Your bootie smells rotten and one day you will be gotten\n  See joker's is scatter-brained, their focus is unrestrained\n  My army is trained, you never find us beefin' in vain\n  Cause I've seen fire and I've seen rain\n  You claim fame, while modest niggas remain\n  I can judge a character like Ito judge a verdict\n  And if you bringin' threats I give you sex if I ain't heard it\n  See poppin' shit's about your attitude and how you word it\n  I've seen the biggest niggas on the block get murdered and they deserverd it\n  Or so the beast said when they served it\n  That shit is nervous So what's my purpose? Family, we must preserve it\n  Your number's retired I hope you like the hell fires\n  You'll be screamin' Murder she Wrote like Chaka Demus and Pliars\n\n  Just walkin' the streets death can take you away\n  It's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\n  At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  So defend the family that's the code to obey\n\n  If I should fall asleep and death takes me away\n  Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\n  At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  So the family stick together and we never betray\n\n  We used to jump rope, but now we gun hope\n  Bustin' shots off of project roof tops sending signals with the blunt smoke\n  Ock, don't talk a lot if you can't hold it in lock\n  If you think lips sink ships, imagine full glock clips.\n  I hold a glass of Remy Martin gettin' milks by the carton\n  Extortin' the light weights for thinkin' they important\n  The night pays and heavenly ways ain't nothin' free aye\n  Knowledge of your family and steppin' to your B.I.\n  You see I, stay on top of shit like a fly\n  My niggas reach when they got beef then jet down to South Beach\n  Yo mouthpiece is yappin' I hear it in your rap and\n  My family is thick so that bullshit could never happen.\n\n  Just walkin' the streets death can take you away\n  It's never guaranteed that you'll see the next day\n  At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  So defend the family that's the code to obey\n\n  If I should fall asleep and death takes me away\n  Don't be surprised son, I wasn't put here to stay\n  At night the evil armies of Shaton don't play\n  So the family stick together and we never betray.\n"},{"id":27175558,"name":"Red Intro (Album Version)","trackName":"Red Intro (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":111.986939,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, this fucker I was wit the other day, I was chillin'\nwith Scott and the minute that we got in front of our\ncrib with a shotgun. Cause jokers gonna be bustin' up\nin there trying to get food, clothing, shelter, TV's, forks,\nradios or whatever they can get there hands on. Shit\nis getting mad ill out here man. Joker's running out here\nlike with MASKS on; I was with my man Pee, he think\nhe like Charlie Chan or Robert De Niro\nor Bruce Lee or some shit, jumping from behind trees on\nMuhfuckas, like Cowboys BANG BANG or whatever you\nknow. Trying to shoot a joker he had beef with, he wound\nup shootin my man up in the street, tyring to be Cowboys\nthey can't even shoot, trying to be gangsta's but when the\nBeast come on the muthafuckin' block everybody break out.\nThey beat my man Bob G. up the other day, cops, pigs vampin'\non him, everybody just standin' around just watching that\nshit take place. Cause they only gangsta's when it comes to\nbeing gangsta's to themselves. They want to be Corleone, Luigi,\nor Gambino or Gotti or whatever the fuck. They run around callin'\nthemselves Rahiem or Fuquan or Mustapha cause we think they\ngot power, but fuck them, I got power. I got power, I got family,\nI got Family Business on Avon, on Chancellor, on Prince Street\non Chadwick, on Stratford on Chancellor on Vailsburg. All of the\nBrick City. That's my family, we gonna settle The SCORE, once\nand for all. I'm not lettin' nobody I'm going out like\na bandit. And all of these ZEALOTS trying to steal and trying to\nbite what I got like all of these big record companies, these\ncorporations these stores they try to rob me. Naw man, I'm going,\nI'm a get mine. Me and my girl we gonna go out together\nwe gonna be a soldier kid. When I go out, she go out. And we\ngonna make what we believe Manifest cause if you ain't Ready\nnow, you ain't never gonna be ready . . .\nI'm always ready.\n\nRas Baraka","syncedLyrics":"[00:07.66] Yo, this fucker I was wit the other day, I was chillin'\n[00:13.28] With Scott and the minute that we got in front of our\n[00:16.18] Crib with a shotgun. Cause jokers gonna be bustin' up\n[00:18.34] In there trying to get food, clothing, shelter, TV's, forks,\n[00:21.41] Radios or whatever they can get there hands on. Shit\n[00:23.74] Is getting mad ill out here man. Joker's running out here\n[00:26.51] Like with MASKS on; I was with my man Pee, he think\n[00:29.73] He like Charlie Chan or Robert De Niro\n[00:32.24] Or Bruce Lee or some shit, jumping from behind trees on\n[00:35.24] Muhfuckas, like Cowboys BANG BANG or whatever you\n[00:37.64] Know. Trying to shoot a joker he had beef with, he wound\n[00:41.01] Up shootin my man up in the street, tyring to be Cowboys\n[00:42.96] They can't even shoot, trying to be gangsta's but when the\n[00:46.08] Beast come on the muthafuckin' block everybody break out.\n[00:47.86] They beat my man Bob G. up the other day, cops, pigs vampin'\n[00:51.99] On him, everybody just standin' around just watching that\n[00:55.07] Shit take place. Cause they only gangsta's when it comes to\n[00:59.16] Being gangsta's to themselves. They want to be Corleone, Luigi,\n[01:01.68] Or Gambino or Gotti or whatever the fuck. They run around callin'\n[01:06.55] Themselves Rahiem or Fuquan or Mustapha cause we think they\n[01:11.82] Got power, but fuck them, I got power. I got power, I got family,\n[01:15.12] I got Family Business on Avon, on Chancellor, on Prince Street\n[01:18.78] On Chadwick, on Stratford on Chancellor on Vailsburg. All of the\n[01:23.17] Brick City. That's my family, we gonna settle The SCORE, once\n[01:25.95] And for all. I'm not lettin' nobody I'm going out like\n[01:28.66] A bandit. And all of these ZEALOTS trying to steal and trying to\n[01:33.35] Bite what I got like all of these big record companies, these\n[01:37.15] Corporations these stores they try to rob me. Naw man, I'm going,\n[01:40.70] I'm a get mine. Me and my girl we gonna go out together\n[01:42.56] We gonna be a soldier kid. When I go out, she go out. And we\n[01:46.51] Gonna make what we believe Manifest cause if you ain't Ready\n[01:49.47] Now, you ain't never gonna be ready . . .\n[01:51.53] I'm always ready.\n[01:53.09] Ras Baraka\n[01:53.41] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Red Intro (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 111987\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yo, this fucker I was wit the other day, I was chillin'\n  start_ms: 7660\n  end_ms: 13280\n- text: With Scott and the minute that we got in front of our\n  start_ms: 13280\n  end_ms: 16180\n- text: Crib with a shotgun. Cause jokers gonna be bustin' up\n  start_ms: 16180\n  end_ms: 18340\n- text: In there trying to get food, clothing, shelter, TV's, forks,\n  start_ms: 18340\n  end_ms: 21410\n- text: Radios or whatever they can get there hands on. Shit\n  start_ms: 21410\n  end_ms: 23740\n- text: Is getting mad ill out here man. Joker's running out here\n  start_ms: 23740\n  end_ms: 26510\n- text: Like with MASKS on; I was with my man Pee, he think\n  start_ms: 26510\n  end_ms: 29730\n- text: He like Charlie Chan or Robert De Niro\n  start_ms: 29730\n  end_ms: 32240\n- text: Or Bruce Lee or some shit, jumping from behind trees on\n  start_ms: 32240\n  end_ms: 35240\n- text: Muhfuckas, like Cowboys BANG BANG or whatever you\n  start_ms: 35240\n  end_ms: 37640\n- text: Know. Trying to shoot a joker he had beef with, he wound\n  start_ms: 37640\n  end_ms: 41010\n- text: Up shootin my man up in the street, tyring to be Cowboys\n  start_ms: 41010\n  end_ms: 42960\n- text: They can't even shoot, trying to be gangsta's but when the\n  start_ms: 42960\n  end_ms: 46080\n- text: Beast come on the muthafuckin' block everybody break out.\n  start_ms: 46080\n  end_ms: 47860\n- text: They beat my man Bob G. up the other day, cops, pigs vampin'\n  start_ms: 47860\n  end_ms: 51990\n- text: On him, everybody just standin' around just watching that\n  start_ms: 51990\n  end_ms: 55070\n- text: Shit take place. Cause they only gangsta's when it comes to\n  start_ms: 55070\n  end_ms: 59160\n- text: Being gangsta's to themselves. They want to be Corleone, Luigi,\n  start_ms: 59160\n  end_ms: 61680\n- text: Or Gambino or Gotti or whatever the fuck. They run around callin'\n  start_ms: 61680\n  end_ms: 66550\n- text: Themselves Rahiem or Fuquan or Mustapha cause we think they\n  start_ms: 66550\n  end_ms: 71820\n- text: Got power, but fuck them, I got power. I got power, I got family,\n  start_ms: 71820\n  end_ms: 75120\n- text: I got Family Business on Avon, on Chancellor, on Prince Street\n  start_ms: 75120\n  end_ms: 78780\n- text: On Chadwick, on Stratford on Chancellor on Vailsburg. All of the\n  start_ms: 78780\n  end_ms: 83170\n- text: Brick City. That's my family, we gonna settle The SCORE, once\n  start_ms: 83170\n  end_ms: 85950\n- text: And for all. I'm not lettin' nobody I'm going out like\n  start_ms: 85950\n  end_ms: 88660\n- text: A bandit. And all of these ZEALOTS trying to steal and trying to\n  start_ms: 88660\n  end_ms: 93350\n- text: Bite what I got like all of these big record companies, these\n  start_ms: 93350\n  end_ms: 97150\n- text: Corporations these stores they try to rob me. Naw man, I'm going,\n  start_ms: 97150\n  end_ms: 100700\n- text: I'm a get mine. Me and my girl we gonna go out together\n  start_ms: 100700\n  end_ms: 102560\n- text: We gonna be a soldier kid. When I go out, she go out. And we\n  start_ms: 102560\n  end_ms: 106510\n- text: Gonna make what we believe Manifest cause if you ain't Ready\n  start_ms: 106510\n  end_ms: 109470\n- text: Now, you ain't never gonna be ready . . .\n  start_ms: 109470\n  end_ms: 111530\n- text: I'm always ready.\n  start_ms: 111530\n  end_ms: 113090\n- text: Ras Baraka\n  start_ms: 113090\n  end_ms: 113410\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 113410\nplain: |-\n  Yo, this fucker I was wit the other day, I was chillin'\n  with Scott and the minute that we got in front of our\n  crib with a shotgun. Cause jokers gonna be bustin' up\n  in there trying to get food, clothing, shelter, TV's, forks,\n  radios or whatever they can get there hands on. Shit\n  is getting mad ill out here man. Joker's running out here\n  like with MASKS on; I was with my man Pee, he think\n  he like Charlie Chan or Robert De Niro\n  or Bruce Lee or some shit, jumping from behind trees on\n  Muhfuckas, like Cowboys BANG BANG or whatever you\n  know. Trying to shoot a joker he had beef with, he wound\n  up shootin my man up in the street, tyring to be Cowboys\n  they can't even shoot, trying to be gangsta's but when the\n  Beast come on the muthafuckin' block everybody break out.\n  They beat my man Bob G. up the other day, cops, pigs vampin'\n  on him, everybody just standin' around just watching that\n  shit take place. Cause they only gangsta's when it comes to\n  being gangsta's to themselves. They want to be Corleone, Luigi,\n  or Gambino or Gotti or whatever the fuck. They run around callin'\n  themselves Rahiem or Fuquan or Mustapha cause we think they\n  got power, but fuck them, I got power. I got power, I got family,\n  I got Family Business on Avon, on Chancellor, on Prince Street\n  on Chadwick, on Stratford on Chancellor on Vailsburg. All of the\n  Brick City. That's my family, we gonna settle The SCORE, once\n  and for all. I'm not lettin' nobody I'm going out like\n  a bandit. And all of these ZEALOTS trying to steal and trying to\n  bite what I got like all of these big record companies, these\n  corporations these stores they try to rob me. Naw man, I'm going,\n  I'm a get mine. Me and my girl we gonna go out together\n  we gonna be a soldier kid. When I go out, she go out. And we\n  gonna make what we believe Manifest cause if you ain't Ready\n  now, you ain't never gonna be ready . . .\n  I'm always ready.\n\n  Ras Baraka\n"},{"id":26070594,"name":"The Score (Album Version)","trackName":"The Score (Album Version)","artistName":"The Fugees","albumName":"Urban's Finest - Rap Classics","duration":247.510204,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You rockin' live but you ain't sayin' nothing\nIt's time to settle the score\n(I play my enemies like a game of chess)\n(Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka)\nHa, ha, ha, ha, ha, you shouldn't diss Refugees\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score)\n\nLook into the rhyme\nRum to the ripple\nSing boo\nBut at times I come in triple\n\nBlaow, blaow put the heater to your head\nNow you dead\nWyclef don't give a oooh if you dead\nRaaaaah, raaaah\nLet me attack just like the black cat\n\nYou in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.\nHooo, you've got to go for backup\nTo do what you gotta do.\nSo you'll be back with France CU\nTraitor in your crew is mafo heat\n\nYou put the poison in my tea\nAnd kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede\nI'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo\nAwoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what\nCompetition, stimulation for the rap man\n\nLosers check your tooters\nWhile I'm suckin' on your girls hooters.\nDon't play macho, while you got the gun\nCause if you got to reload\n\nWyclef the multi-talented\nAverage heads can't handle it\nI'll bring it to you live\nOnly if you want it\n\nMe and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's\n(C'mon check out my melody)\nThe W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef\nThrough any contest\nI'm victorious\nStill keep it real, if you will and manifest\nThrough your skills, not by how many shells you peel.\n\nI'm a bring down the ruckus\nPlay the nutcracker\nRough-neck rednecks make me no bother\nTime after time, ask Cyndi Lauper\nBoss, you don't want to fuck with my partners\n\nMotion, commotion, what's your proposal\nUphold two-fold, the crew is disposal\nLike utensil, false idental,\nI autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil\n\nI'm the L, Won't you pull it\nStraight to the head\nWith the speed of a bullet\nCuttin' niggas off at the meeky-freeky gullet\nLyrical sedative, keep niggas medative\n\nHead rushers I give to creative kids and fiends\nDreams of euphoria\nAurora\nTo another galaxy\nPhallic-sy\n\nBe this microphone, but get lifted\nLyrically I'm gifted\nBurn on in without the roach clip (it)\nHenders, mind-bender\nPleasure sender\n\nSo frequently your nerve endings belong to me\nWrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke\nWack niggas choke\nFrom the fumes that I emote,\nOr emit shit\n\nSee even I feel the mahogany L\nNatural hallucinogen\nTurning boys to men again\nWith estrogen dreams\nRelease blues, yellows and greens\nFrom Brownsville to Queens\n\nYou rockin' live but you ain't saying nothing\nIt's time to settle the score\nReady or not. Refugees taking over\n'Cause we soft spoken\nDoesn't mean that we've forgotten\nNow we permanently one\nAnd one day you will be forgotten\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score)\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score) Diamond D\n\nI creep like a thief, no doubt the man's swift\nI'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff\nYou stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff\n(We know where to run)\nAnd start flakin' like dandruff\n\nC'mon son my steelo's tight\nCause by far I'm the best producer on the mic\nOn the right, analytical conceptions\nWith precision and leave lyrical incisions\nBing! ha, ha, ha\n\nAll they do is front and lie man\nYo' i'mma go get some drink\nYou alright? You straight?\nYeah I'm straight, I'll be right back\n\nHey yo' LJ I heard you fucked Michelle\nMan I been fucked Michelle\nMichelle Lesley Brown (Michelle Lesley Brown)\nFrom 225th Street?\n\nNigga Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th Street\nThat play ball in the park\nNigga, Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street, that play ball in the park\nMan I been fuckin' her\n\nWhat happened?\nWhat he say? What he say about her?\nHe said he fucked her\nBut, there go Michelle right there, call her over here\n\nHey yo' Michelle, come here for a second baby\nCome here, come her\nAsk her...\nYo', you fuck Jay?\nHell no, eeeuw. What?\n\nNigga not that Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street\nThat play ball in the park, the other Michelle Lesley Brown\nNigga that's the only one\nHow many Michelle's is there?\nShe got a cousin or some shit like that\nKnow what I'm saying...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Score (Album Version)\n  artist: The Fugees\n  album: Urban's Finest - Rap Classics\n  duration_ms: 247510\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You rockin' live but you ain't sayin' nothing\n  It's time to settle the score\n  (I play my enemies like a game of chess)\n  (Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka)\n  Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, you shouldn't diss Refugees\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n\n  Look into the rhyme\n  Rum to the ripple\n  Sing boo\n  But at times I come in triple\n\n  Blaow, blaow put the heater to your head\n  Now you dead\n  Wyclef don't give a oooh if you dead\n  Raaaaah, raaaah\n  Let me attack just like the black cat\n\n  You in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.\n  Hooo, you've got to go for backup\n  To do what you gotta do.\n  So you'll be back with France CU\n  Traitor in your crew is mafo heat\n\n  You put the poison in my tea\n  And kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede\n  I'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo\n  Awoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what\n  Competition, stimulation for the rap man\n\n  Losers check your tooters\n  While I'm suckin' on your girls hooters.\n  Don't play macho, while you got the gun\n  Cause if you got to reload\n\n  Wyclef the multi-talented\n  Average heads can't handle it\n  I'll bring it to you live\n  Only if you want it\n\n  Me and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's\n  (C'mon check out my melody)\n  The W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef\n  Through any contest\n  I'm victorious\n  Still keep it real, if you will and manifest\n  Through your skills, not by how many shells you peel.\n\n  I'm a bring down the ruckus\n  Play the nutcracker\n  Rough-neck rednecks make me no bother\n  Time after time, ask Cyndi Lauper\n  Boss, you don't want to fuck with my partners\n\n  Motion, commotion, what's your proposal\n  Uphold two-fold, the crew is disposal\n  Like utensil, false idental,\n  I autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil\n\n  I'm the L, Won't you pull it\n  Straight to the head\n  With the speed of a bullet\n  Cuttin' niggas off at the meeky-freeky gullet\n  Lyrical sedative, keep niggas medative\n\n  Head rushers I give to creative kids and fiends\n  Dreams of euphoria\n  Aurora\n  To another galaxy\n  Phallic-sy\n\n  Be this microphone, but get lifted\n  Lyrically I'm gifted\n  Burn on in without the roach clip (it)\n  Henders, mind-bender\n  Pleasure sender\n\n  So frequently your nerve endings belong to me\n  Wrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke\n  Wack niggas choke\n  From the fumes that I emote,\n  Or emit shit\n\n  See even I feel the mahogany L\n  Natural hallucinogen\n  Turning boys to men again\n  With estrogen dreams\n  Release blues, yellows and greens\n  From Brownsville to Queens\n\n  You rockin' live but you ain't saying nothing\n  It's time to settle the score\n  Ready or not. Refugees taking over\n  'Cause we soft spoken\n  Doesn't mean that we've forgotten\n  Now we permanently one\n  And one day you will be forgotten\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score) Diamond D\n\n  I creep like a thief, no doubt the man's swift\n  I'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff\n  You stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff\n  (We know where to run)\n  And start flakin' like dandruff\n\n  C'mon son my steelo's tight\n  Cause by far I'm the best producer on the mic\n  On the right, analytical conceptions\n  With precision and leave lyrical incisions\n  Bing! ha, ha, ha\n\n  All they do is front and lie man\n  Yo' i'mma go get some drink\n  You alright? You straight?\n  Yeah I'm straight, I'll be right back\n\n  Hey yo' LJ I heard you fucked Michelle\n  Man I been fucked Michelle\n  Michelle Lesley Brown (Michelle Lesley Brown)\n  From 225th Street?\n\n  Nigga Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th Street\n  That play ball in the park\n  Nigga, Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street, that play ball in the park\n  Man I been fuckin' her\n\n  What happened?\n  What he say? What he say about her?\n  He said he fucked her\n  But, there go Michelle right there, call her over here\n\n  Hey yo' Michelle, come here for a second baby\n  Come here, come her\n  Ask her...\n  Yo', you fuck Jay?\n  Hell no, eeeuw. What?\n\n  Nigga not that Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street\n  That play ball in the park, the other Michelle Lesley Brown\n  Nigga that's the only one\n  How many Michelle's is there?\n  She got a cousin or some shit like that\n  Know what I'm saying...\n"},{"id":30327391,"name":"Ready or Not (Album Version)","trackName":"Ready or Not (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":227.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ready or not, here I come\nYou can't hide\nGonna find you\nAnd take it slowly\nReady or not, here I come\nYou can't hide\nGonna find you\nAnd make you want me\n\nNow that I escape, sleepwalker awake\nThose who could relate know the world ain't cake\nJail bars ain't golden gates those who fake, they break\nWhen they meet their 400 pound mate\nIf I could rule the world, everyone would have a gun\nIn the ghetto of course, when giddyupin' on their horse\nI kick a rhyme drinkin' moonshine\nI pour a sip on the concrete, for the deceased\n\nBut no don't weep, Wyclef's in a state of sleep\nThinkin' 'bout the robbery, that I did last week\nMoney in the bag, banker looked like a drag\nI want to play with pelicans from here to Baghdad\nGun blast, think fast, I think I'm hit\nMy girl pinched my hips to see if I still exist\nI think not, I'll send a letter to my friends\nA born again hooligan only to be king again\n\nReady or not, here I come\nYou can't hide\nGonna find you\nAnd take it slowly\nReady or not, here I come\nYou can't hide\nGonna find you\nAnd make you want me\n\nYo, I play my enemies like a game of chess\nWhere I rest, no stress, if you don't smoke sess, lest\nI must confess, my destiny's manifest\nIn some Goretex and sweats I make treks like I'm homeless\n\nRap orgies with Porgy and Bess\nCapture your bounty like Elliot Ness, yes\nBless you if you represent the Fu\nBut I'll hex you with some witch's brew if you're Doo Doo\n\nVoodoo, I can do what you do, easy\nBelieve me, frontin' niggas give me heebie-jeebies\nSo while you're imitating Al Capone\nI'll be Nina Simone and defacating on your microphone\n\nReady or not, here I come\nYou can't hide\nGonna find you\nAnd take it slowly\n\nYou can't run away\nFrom these styles I got, oh baby, hey, baby\n'Cause I got a lot, oh, yeah\nAnd anywhere you go\nMy whole crew's gonna know, oh baby, hey, baby\nYou can't hide from the block, oh no\n\nReady or not, refugees takin' over\nThe Buffalo soldier, dreadlock Rasta\nOn the 12th hour, fly by in my bomber\nCrews run for cover, now they're under pushin' up flowers\nSuperfly true lies, do or die (he's super fly)\nToss me high, only puff la, with my crew from Lakay\nI refugee from Guantanamo Bay\nDance around the border like I'm Cassius Clay (yes, sir)\n\nReady or not, here I come\nYou can't hide (ay, yo nobody move)\nGonna find you\nAnd take it slowly\nReady or not, here I come\nYou can't hide (ay, yo nobody move)\nGonna find you\nAnd make you want me\n\nReady or not, here I come\nYou can't hide (you know the)\nGonna find you\nAnd take it slowly\nReady or not, here I come\nYou can't hide\nGonna find you\nAnd make you want me","syncedLyrics":"[00:10.42] Ready or not, here I come\n[00:12.84] You can't hide\n[00:15.20] Gonna find you\n[00:17.89] And take it slowly\n[00:21.28] Ready or not, here I come\n[00:23.63] You can't hide\n[00:25.73] Gonna find you\n[00:28.92] And make you want me\n[00:31.92] Now that I escape, sleepwalker awake\n[00:33.80] Those who could relate know the world ain't cake\n[00:37.12] Jail bars ain't golden gates those who fake, they break\n[00:40.13] When they meet their 400 pound mate\n[00:42.58] If I could rule the world, everyone would have a gun\n[00:45.45] In the ghetto of course, when giddyupin' on their horse\n[00:47.83] I kick a rhyme drinkin' moonshine\n[00:50.53] I pour a sip on the concrete, for the deceased\n[00:53.78] But no don't weep, Wyclef's in a state of sleep\n[00:56.19] Thinkin' 'bout the robbery, that I did last week\n[00:58.21] Money in the bag, banker looked like a drag\n[01:01.23] I want to play with pelicans from here to Baghdad\n[01:04.06] Gun blast, think fast, I think I'm hit\n[01:07.06] My girl pinched my hips to see if I still exist\n[01:09.50] I think not, I'll send a letter to my friends\n[01:12.23] A born again hooligan only to be king again\n[01:15.08] Ready or not, here I come\n[01:17.49] You can't hide\n[01:20.16] Gonna find you\n[01:22.53] And take it slowly\n[01:26.13] Ready or not, here I come\n[01:28.64] You can't hide\n[01:30.68] Gonna find you\n[01:33.45] And make you want me\n[01:36.90] Yo, I play my enemies like a game of chess\n[01:40.18] Where I rest, no stress, if you don't smoke sess, lest\n[01:43.13] I must confess, my destiny's manifest\n[01:45.66] In some Goretex and sweats I make treks like I'm homeless\n[01:48.81] Rap orgies with Porgy and Bess\n[01:51.28] Capture your bounty like Elliot Ness, yes\n[01:53.98] Bless you if you represent the Fu\n[01:56.62] But I'll hex you with some witch's brew if you're Doo Doo\n[01:59.38] Voodoo, I can do what you do, easy\n[02:01.80] Believe me, frontin' niggas give me heebie-jeebies\n[02:04.85] So while you're imitating Al Capone\n[02:06.84] I'll be Nina Simone and defacating on your microphone\n[02:10.06] Ready or not, here I come\n[02:12.48] You can't hide\n[02:14.97] Gonna find you\n[02:17.44] And take it slowly\n[02:20.67] You can't run away\n[02:23.97] From these styles I got, oh baby, hey, baby\n[02:28.19] 'Cause I got a lot, oh, yeah\n[02:31.24] And anywhere you go\n[02:35.13] My whole crew's gonna know, oh baby, hey, baby\n[02:38.98] You can't hide from the block, oh no\n[02:42.67] Ready or not, refugees takin' over\n[02:44.93] The Buffalo soldier, dreadlock Rasta\n[02:47.87] On the 12th hour, fly by in my bomber\n[02:50.23] Crews run for cover, now they're under pushin' up flowers\n[02:53.27] Superfly true lies, do or die (he's super fly)\n[02:54.90] Toss me high, only puff la, with my crew from Lakay\n[02:58.47] I refugee from Guantanamo Bay\n[03:00.94] Dance around the border like I'm Cassius Clay (yes, sir)\n[03:04.27] Ready or not, here I come\n[03:06.67] You can't hide (ay, yo nobody move)\n[03:08.71] Gonna find you\n[03:11.60] And take it slowly\n[03:14.34] Ready or not, here I come\n[03:17.13] You can't hide (ay, yo nobody move)\n[03:19.68] Gonna find you\n[03:22.42] And make you want me\n[03:25.84] Ready or not, here I come\n[03:27.94] You can't hide (you know the)\n[03:30.74] Gonna find you\n[03:33.19] And take it slowly\n[03:36.29] Ready or not, here I come\n[03:38.90] You can't hide\n[03:41.26] Gonna find you\n[03:44.07] And make you want me\n[03:46.71] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Ready or Not (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 227000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Ready or not, here I come\n  start_ms: 10420\n  end_ms: 12840\n- text: You can't hide\n  start_ms: 12840\n  end_ms: 15200\n- text: Gonna find you\n  start_ms: 15200\n  end_ms: 17890\n- text: And take it slowly\n  start_ms: 17890\n  end_ms: 21280\n- text: Ready or not, here I come\n  start_ms: 21280\n  end_ms: 23630\n- text: You can't hide\n  start_ms: 23630\n  end_ms: 25730\n- text: Gonna find you\n  start_ms: 25730\n  end_ms: 28920\n- text: And make you want me\n  start_ms: 28920\n  end_ms: 31920\n- text: Now that I escape, sleepwalker awake\n  start_ms: 31920\n  end_ms: 33800\n- text: Those who could relate know the world ain't cake\n  start_ms: 33800\n  end_ms: 37120\n- text: Jail bars ain't golden gates those who fake, they break\n  start_ms: 37120\n  end_ms: 40130\n- text: When they meet their 400 pound mate\n  start_ms: 40130\n  end_ms: 42580\n- text: If I could rule the world, everyone would have a gun\n  start_ms: 42580\n  end_ms: 45450\n- text: In the ghetto of course, when giddyupin' on their horse\n  start_ms: 45450\n  end_ms: 47830\n- text: I kick a rhyme drinkin' moonshine\n  start_ms: 47830\n  end_ms: 50530\n- text: I pour a sip on the concrete, for the deceased\n  start_ms: 50530\n  end_ms: 53780\n- text: But no don't weep, Wyclef's in a state of sleep\n  start_ms: 53780\n  end_ms: 56190\n- text: Thinkin' 'bout the robbery, that I did last week\n  start_ms: 56190\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: Money in the bag, banker looked like a drag\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61230\n- text: I want to play with pelicans from here to Baghdad\n  start_ms: 61230\n  end_ms: 64060\n- text: Gun blast, think fast, I think I'm hit\n  start_ms: 64060\n  end_ms: 67060\n- text: My girl pinched my hips to see if I still exist\n  start_ms: 67060\n  end_ms: 69500\n- text: I think not, I'll send a letter to my friends\n  start_ms: 69500\n  end_ms: 72230\n- text: A born again hooligan only to be king again\n  start_ms: 72230\n  end_ms: 75080\n- text: Ready or not, here I come\n  start_ms: 75080\n  end_ms: 77490\n- text: You can't hide\n  start_ms: 77490\n  end_ms: 80160\n- text: Gonna find you\n  start_ms: 80160\n  end_ms: 82530\n- text: And take it slowly\n  start_ms: 82530\n  end_ms: 86130\n- text: Ready or not, here I come\n  start_ms: 86130\n  end_ms: 88640\n- text: You can't hide\n  start_ms: 88640\n  end_ms: 90680\n- text: Gonna find you\n  start_ms: 90680\n  end_ms: 93450\n- text: And make you want me\n  start_ms: 93450\n  end_ms: 96900\n- text: Yo, I play my enemies like a game of chess\n  start_ms: 96900\n  end_ms: 100180\n- text: Where I rest, no stress, if you don't smoke sess, lest\n  start_ms: 100180\n  end_ms: 103130\n- text: I must confess, my destiny's manifest\n  start_ms: 103130\n  end_ms: 105660\n- text: In some Goretex and sweats I make treks like I'm homeless\n  start_ms: 105660\n  end_ms: 108810\n- text: Rap orgies with Porgy and Bess\n  start_ms: 108810\n  end_ms: 111280\n- text: Capture your bounty like Elliot Ness, yes\n  start_ms: 111280\n  end_ms: 113980\n- text: Bless you if you represent the Fu\n  start_ms: 113980\n  end_ms: 116620\n- text: But I'll hex you with some witch's brew if you're Doo Doo\n  start_ms: 116620\n  end_ms: 119380\n- text: Voodoo, I can do what you do, easy\n  start_ms: 119380\n  end_ms: 121800\n- text: Believe me, frontin' niggas give me heebie-jeebies\n  start_ms: 121800\n  end_ms: 124850\n- text: So while you're imitating Al Capone\n  start_ms: 124850\n  end_ms: 126840\n- text: I'll be Nina Simone and defacating on your microphone\n  start_ms: 126840\n  end_ms: 130060\n- text: Ready or not, here I come\n  start_ms: 130060\n  end_ms: 132480\n- text: You can't hide\n  start_ms: 132480\n  end_ms: 134970\n- text: Gonna find you\n  start_ms: 134970\n  end_ms: 137440\n- text: And take it slowly\n  start_ms: 137440\n  end_ms: 140670\n- text: You can't run away\n  start_ms: 140670\n  end_ms: 143970\n- text: From these styles I got, oh baby, hey, baby\n  start_ms: 143970\n  end_ms: 148190\n- text: '''Cause I got a lot, oh, yeah'\n  start_ms: 148190\n  end_ms: 151240\n- text: And anywhere you go\n  start_ms: 151240\n  end_ms: 155130\n- text: My whole crew's gonna know, oh baby, hey, baby\n  start_ms: 155130\n  end_ms: 158980\n- text: You can't hide from the block, oh no\n  start_ms: 158980\n  end_ms: 162670\n- text: Ready or not, refugees takin' over\n  start_ms: 162670\n  end_ms: 164930\n- text: The Buffalo soldier, dreadlock Rasta\n  start_ms: 164930\n  end_ms: 167870\n- text: On the 12th hour, fly by in my bomber\n  start_ms: 167870\n  end_ms: 170230\n- text: Crews run for cover, now they're under pushin' up flowers\n  start_ms: 170230\n  end_ms: 173270\n- text: Superfly true lies, do or die (he's super fly)\n  start_ms: 173270\n  end_ms: 174900\n- text: Toss me high, only puff la, with my crew from Lakay\n  start_ms: 174900\n  end_ms: 178470\n- text: I refugee from Guantanamo Bay\n  start_ms: 178470\n  end_ms: 180940\n- text: Dance around the border like I'm Cassius Clay (yes, sir)\n  start_ms: 180940\n  end_ms: 184270\n- text: Ready or not, here I come\n  start_ms: 184270\n  end_ms: 186670\n- text: You can't hide (ay, yo nobody move)\n  start_ms: 186670\n  end_ms: 188710\n- text: Gonna find you\n  start_ms: 188710\n  end_ms: 191600\n- text: And take it slowly\n  start_ms: 191600\n  end_ms: 194340\n- text: Ready or not, here I come\n  start_ms: 194340\n  end_ms: 197130\n- text: You can't hide (ay, yo nobody move)\n  start_ms: 197130\n  end_ms: 199680\n- text: Gonna find you\n  start_ms: 199680\n  end_ms: 202420\n- text: And make you want me\n  start_ms: 202420\n  end_ms: 205840\n- text: Ready or not, here I come\n  start_ms: 205840\n  end_ms: 207940\n- text: You can't hide (you know the)\n  start_ms: 207940\n  end_ms: 210740\n- text: Gonna find you\n  start_ms: 210740\n  end_ms: 213190\n- text: And take it slowly\n  start_ms: 213190\n  end_ms: 216290\n- text: Ready or not, here I come\n  start_ms: 216290\n  end_ms: 218900\n- text: You can't hide\n  start_ms: 218900\n  end_ms: 221260\n- text: Gonna find you\n  start_ms: 221260\n  end_ms: 224070\n- text: And make you want me\n  start_ms: 224070\n  end_ms: 226710\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 226710\nplain: |-\n  Ready or not, here I come\n  You can't hide\n  Gonna find you\n  And take it slowly\n  Ready or not, here I come\n  You can't hide\n  Gonna find you\n  And make you want me\n\n  Now that I escape, sleepwalker awake\n  Those who could relate know the world ain't cake\n  Jail bars ain't golden gates those who fake, they break\n  When they meet their 400 pound mate\n  If I could rule the world, everyone would have a gun\n  In the ghetto of course, when giddyupin' on their horse\n  I kick a rhyme drinkin' moonshine\n  I pour a sip on the concrete, for the deceased\n\n  But no don't weep, Wyclef's in a state of sleep\n  Thinkin' 'bout the robbery, that I did last week\n  Money in the bag, banker looked like a drag\n  I want to play with pelicans from here to Baghdad\n  Gun blast, think fast, I think I'm hit\n  My girl pinched my hips to see if I still exist\n  I think not, I'll send a letter to my friends\n  A born again hooligan only to be king again\n\n  Ready or not, here I come\n  You can't hide\n  Gonna find you\n  And take it slowly\n  Ready or not, here I come\n  You can't hide\n  Gonna find you\n  And make you want me\n\n  Yo, I play my enemies like a game of chess\n  Where I rest, no stress, if you don't smoke sess, lest\n  I must confess, my destiny's manifest\n  In some Goretex and sweats I make treks like I'm homeless\n\n  Rap orgies with Porgy and Bess\n  Capture your bounty like Elliot Ness, yes\n  Bless you if you represent the Fu\n  But I'll hex you with some witch's brew if you're Doo Doo\n\n  Voodoo, I can do what you do, easy\n  Believe me, frontin' niggas give me heebie-jeebies\n  So while you're imitating Al Capone\n  I'll be Nina Simone and defacating on your microphone\n\n  Ready or not, here I come\n  You can't hide\n  Gonna find you\n  And take it slowly\n\n  You can't run away\n  From these styles I got, oh baby, hey, baby\n  'Cause I got a lot, oh, yeah\n  And anywhere you go\n  My whole crew's gonna know, oh baby, hey, baby\n  You can't hide from the block, oh no\n\n  Ready or not, refugees takin' over\n  The Buffalo soldier, dreadlock Rasta\n  On the 12th hour, fly by in my bomber\n  Crews run for cover, now they're under pushin' up flowers\n  Superfly true lies, do or die (he's super fly)\n  Toss me high, only puff la, with my crew from Lakay\n  I refugee from Guantanamo Bay\n  Dance around the border like I'm Cassius Clay (yes, sir)\n\n  Ready or not, here I come\n  You can't hide (ay, yo nobody move)\n  Gonna find you\n  And take it slowly\n  Ready or not, here I come\n  You can't hide (ay, yo nobody move)\n  Gonna find you\n  And make you want me\n\n  Ready or not, here I come\n  You can't hide (you know the)\n  Gonna find you\n  And take it slowly\n  Ready or not, here I come\n  You can't hide\n  Gonna find you\n  And make you want me\n"},{"id":30162307,"name":"How Many Mics (Album Version)","trackName":"How Many Mics (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":269.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Pick up your microphones, ha-ha\nPick up your microphones, yo\n\nHow many mics do we rip on the daily?\nSay, me say many, money, say, me say many, many, many\nHow many mics do we rip on the daily?\nMany, money, say, me say many, many, many\n\nI get mad frustrated when I rhyme\nThinkin' of all them kids that try to do this for all the wrong reasons\nSeasons change, mad things rearrange\nBut it all stays the same like the love doctor, strange\nI'm tame like the rapper, get red like a snapper when they do that\nGot your whole block saying, \"True dat\"\nIf only they knew that it was you who was irregular\nSold your soul for some secular muzak that's wack\n\nPlus you use that loop over and over\nClaiming that you got a new style, your attempts are futile\nOoh, child, you puerile, brain waves are sterile\nYou can't create, you just wait to take my tapes (bing)\nLaced with malice, hands get calloused\nFrom gripping microphones from here to Dallas\nGo ask Alice if you don't believe me, I get in her visions like Stevie\nSee me ascend from the chalice like the weed be\nIndeed we like Khalid Muhammad, MCs make me vomit\n\nI get controversial, freak your style with no rehearsal\nAu contraire mon frère, don't you even go there\nMe without a mic is like a beat without a snare\nI dare to tear into your ego\nWe go way back like some ganja and pelequo\nOr ColecoVision, my rhymes make incisions in your anatomy\nAnd I'll back this with Deuteronomy\nOr Leviticus, God made this word, you can't get with this\nSweet like licorice, dangerous like syphilis, yeah\n\nHow many mics do we rip on the daily?\nMany, money, say, me say many, many, many\nHow many mics do I rip on the daily?\nMany, money, say, me say many, many, many\nHow many mics do you rip on the daily?\nMany, money, say, me say many, many, many\nHow many mics do we rip on the daily?\nMany, money, say, me say many, many, many\n\nI used to be underrated, now I take iron\nMakes my shit constipated, I'm more concentrated\nSo on my day off, with David Sonenberg, I play golf\nRun through Crown Heights screaming out, \"Mazel tov!\"\nProblem with no man, before Black, I'm first human\nAppetite to write like Frederick Douglass with a slave hand (bing)\nStreet pressure, word to papa, I ain't goin' under\nOne day I'll have a label and make deals with Tommy Mottola\n\nMama always told me, \"You're one in a million\"\nAlways watch your back, never tangle with Haitian Sicilians\nNow I got a record deal, \"How does it feel?\"\nI'm never gonna survive unless I get crazy like Seal\n'Cause the whole world's out of order\nSo at night, the fiends dance on grease with John Travolta\nOne got slaughtered as he coughed blood from his mouth\nThe other tried to duck and caught a left with my Guinness Stout\nBrother, brother, can't you get this through your head?\nThis is set up by the feds, they're scoping us with their infrareds\n\nHow many mics do you rip on the daily?\nMany, money, say, me say many, many, many\nHow many mics do I rip on the daily?\nMany, money, say, me say many, many, many\nHow many mics do we rip on the daily?\nMany, money, say, me say many, many, many\n\nToo many MCs, not enough mics\nExit your show like I exit the turnpike\nDice and dynamite like Dolemite\nDouble-deuce delight, I don't Dick Van Dyke\nStar light to star bright, the freaks come out at night\nLike my man Wyclef (I wear my sunglasses at night)\nAnd my panache will mosh your entourage\nSquash the squad and hide their bodies under my garage\nAnd when the cops come lookin', I be bookin' to Brooklyn\nLeave the trails broken, flippin' tokens to Hoboken\nA clean getaway like Alec Baldwin\nDriving in my fast car playing Tracy Chapman\n\nHow many mics do we rip on the daily?\nSay, me say many, money, say, me say many, many, many\nHow many mics do you rip on the daily?\nMany, money, say, me say many, many, many\nHow many mics do we rip on the daily?\nMany, money, say, me say many, many, many\nHow many mics do I rip on the daily?\nMany, money, say, me say many, many, many\n\nMany, many, money, many, many, many\nMany, many, money, many, many, many\n\nYo, as I was sayin', look\nYo, yo, hold up kid, hol' up, hol' up (yo, man)\nYo, ready or not, kid (yo, yo, I gotta tell you somethin', man)\nThey gon' move on us (If they do, but, yo)\nAnd we gotta get prepared\nWe gotta get the forces together, man (I gotta do what I gotta do, man)\nWe gotta get our family together (I'ma haul ass down to Mexico, yo)\nReady or not, man (word is born)\nReady or not, they gon' move on us\nSo I tell you what, better safe than sorry\nLet's be ready","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.74] Pick up your microphones, ha-ha\n[00:07.66] Pick up your microphones, yo\n[00:10.81] How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n[00:13.97] Say, me say many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[00:17.49] How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n[00:20.12] Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[00:22.97] I get mad frustrated when I rhyme\n[00:25.11] Thinkin' of all them kids that try to do this for all the wrong reasons\n[00:29.15] Seasons change, mad things rearrange\n[00:31.85] But it all stays the same like the love doctor, strange\n[00:34.56] I'm tame like the rapper, get red like a snapper when they do that\n[00:38.38] Got your whole block saying, \"True dat\"\n[00:40.57] If only they knew that it was you who was irregular\n[00:43.45] Sold your soul for some secular muzak that's wack\n[00:46.28] Plus you use that loop over and over\n[00:48.38] Claiming that you got a new style, your attempts are futile\n[00:51.98] Ooh, child, you puerile, brain waves are sterile\n[00:54.94] You can't create, you just wait to take my tapes (bing)\n[00:57.74] Laced with malice, hands get calloused\n[01:00.28] From gripping microphones from here to Dallas\n[01:02.46] Go ask Alice if you don't believe me, I get in her visions like Stevie\n[01:06.42] See me ascend from the chalice like the weed be\n[01:09.08] Indeed we like Khalid Muhammad, MCs make me vomit\n[01:11.93] I get controversial, freak your style with no rehearsal\n[01:15.06] Au contraire mon frère, don't you even go there\n[01:18.71] Me without a mic is like a beat without a snare\n[01:21.67] I dare to tear into your ego\n[01:23.84] We go way back like some ganja and pelequo\n[01:26.67] Or ColecoVision, my rhymes make incisions in your anatomy\n[01:30.46] And I'll back this with Deuteronomy\n[01:32.52] Or Leviticus, God made this word, you can't get with this\n[01:35.60] Sweet like licorice, dangerous like syphilis, yeah\n[01:38.54] How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n[01:41.13] Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[01:44.28] How many mics do I rip on the daily?\n[01:46.82] Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[01:50.03] How many mics do you rip on the daily?\n[01:52.64] Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[01:55.83] How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n[01:58.49] Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[02:01.29] I used to be underrated, now I take iron\n[02:04.29] Makes my shit constipated, I'm more concentrated\n[02:07.16] So on my day off, with David Sonenberg, I play golf\n[02:10.16] Run through Crown Heights screaming out, \"Mazel tov!\"\n[02:13.13] Problem with no man, before Black, I'm first human\n[02:16.04] Appetite to write like Frederick Douglass with a slave hand (bing)\n[02:18.94] Street pressure, word to papa, I ain't goin' under\n[02:21.52] One day I'll have a label and make deals with Tommy Mottola\n[02:24.88] Mama always told me, \"You're one in a million\"\n[02:27.49] Always watch your back, never tangle with Haitian Sicilians\n[02:30.71] Now I got a record deal, \"How does it feel?\"\n[02:33.15] I'm never gonna survive unless I get crazy like Seal\n[02:36.31] 'Cause the whole world's out of order\n[02:38.78] So at night, the fiends dance on grease with John Travolta\n[02:41.96] One got slaughtered as he coughed blood from his mouth\n[02:44.87] The other tried to duck and caught a left with my Guinness Stout\n[02:48.18] Brother, brother, can't you get this through your head?\n[02:50.53] This is set up by the feds, they're scoping us with their infrareds\n[02:53.70] How many mics do you rip on the daily?\n[02:56.33] Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[02:59.41] How many mics do I rip on the daily?\n[03:02.13] Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[03:05.23] How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n[03:07.94] Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[03:10.94] Too many MCs, not enough mics\n[03:13.72] Exit your show like I exit the turnpike\n[03:16.86] Dice and dynamite like Dolemite\n[03:19.48] Double-deuce delight, I don't Dick Van Dyke\n[03:22.47] Star light to star bright, the freaks come out at night\n[03:25.19] Like my man Wyclef (I wear my sunglasses at night)\n[03:28.48] And my panache will mosh your entourage\n[03:30.95] Squash the squad and hide their bodies under my garage\n[03:34.19] And when the cops come lookin', I be bookin' to Brooklyn\n[03:37.85] Leave the trails broken, flippin' tokens to Hoboken\n[03:40.43] A clean getaway like Alec Baldwin\n[03:42.62] Driving in my fast car playing Tracy Chapman\n[03:45.28] How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n[03:47.97] Say, me say many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[03:51.54] How many mics do you rip on the daily?\n[03:54.27] Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[03:57.45] How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n[04:00.15] Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[04:03.01] How many mics do I rip on the daily?\n[04:05.86] Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n[04:08.91] Many, many, money, many, many, many\n[04:11.68] Many, many, money, many, many, many\n[04:13.03] Yo, as I was sayin', look\n[04:14.59] Yo, yo, hold up kid, hol' up, hol' up (yo, man)\n[04:15.11] Yo, ready or not, kid (yo, yo, I gotta tell you somethin', man)\n[04:16.74] They gon' move on us (If they do, but, yo)\n[04:17.82] And we gotta get prepared\n[04:19.11] We gotta get the forces together, man (I gotta do what I gotta do, man)\n[04:21.16] We gotta get our family together (I'ma haul ass down to Mexico, yo)\n[04:22.96] Ready or not, man (word is born)\n[04:24.06] Ready or not, they gon' move on us\n[04:25.92] So I tell you what, better safe than sorry\n[04:28.28] Let's be ready\n[04:28.92] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How Many Mics (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 269000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Pick up your microphones, ha-ha\n  start_ms: 1740\n  end_ms: 7660\n- text: Pick up your microphones, yo\n  start_ms: 7660\n  end_ms: 10810\n- text: How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 10810\n  end_ms: 13970\n- text: Say, me say many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 13970\n  end_ms: 17490\n- text: How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 17490\n  end_ms: 20120\n- text: Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 20120\n  end_ms: 22970\n- text: I get mad frustrated when I rhyme\n  start_ms: 22970\n  end_ms: 25110\n- text: Thinkin' of all them kids that try to do this for all the wrong reasons\n  start_ms: 25110\n  end_ms: 29150\n- text: Seasons change, mad things rearrange\n  start_ms: 29150\n  end_ms: 31850\n- text: But it all stays the same like the love doctor, strange\n  start_ms: 31850\n  end_ms: 34560\n- text: I'm tame like the rapper, get red like a snapper when they do that\n  start_ms: 34560\n  end_ms: 38380\n- text: Got your whole block saying, \"True dat\"\n  start_ms: 38380\n  end_ms: 40570\n- text: If only they knew that it was you who was irregular\n  start_ms: 40570\n  end_ms: 43450\n- text: Sold your soul for some secular muzak that's wack\n  start_ms: 43450\n  end_ms: 46280\n- text: Plus you use that loop over and over\n  start_ms: 46280\n  end_ms: 48380\n- text: Claiming that you got a new style, your attempts are futile\n  start_ms: 48380\n  end_ms: 51980\n- text: Ooh, child, you puerile, brain waves are sterile\n  start_ms: 51980\n  end_ms: 54940\n- text: You can't create, you just wait to take my tapes (bing)\n  start_ms: 54940\n  end_ms: 57740\n- text: Laced with malice, hands get calloused\n  start_ms: 57740\n  end_ms: 60280\n- text: From gripping microphones from here to Dallas\n  start_ms: 60280\n  end_ms: 62460\n- text: Go ask Alice if you don't believe me, I get in her visions like Stevie\n  start_ms: 62460\n  end_ms: 66420\n- text: See me ascend from the chalice like the weed be\n  start_ms: 66420\n  end_ms: 69080\n- text: Indeed we like Khalid Muhammad, MCs make me vomit\n  start_ms: 69080\n  end_ms: 71930\n- text: I get controversial, freak your style with no rehearsal\n  start_ms: 71930\n  end_ms: 75060\n- text: Au contraire mon frère, don't you even go there\n  start_ms: 75060\n  end_ms: 78710\n- text: Me without a mic is like a beat without a snare\n  start_ms: 78710\n  end_ms: 81670\n- text: I dare to tear into your ego\n  start_ms: 81670\n  end_ms: 83840\n- text: We go way back like some ganja and pelequo\n  start_ms: 83840\n  end_ms: 86670\n- text: Or ColecoVision, my rhymes make incisions in your anatomy\n  start_ms: 86670\n  end_ms: 90460\n- text: And I'll back this with Deuteronomy\n  start_ms: 90460\n  end_ms: 92520\n- text: Or Leviticus, God made this word, you can't get with this\n  start_ms: 92520\n  end_ms: 95600\n- text: Sweet like licorice, dangerous like syphilis, yeah\n  start_ms: 95600\n  end_ms: 98540\n- text: How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 98540\n  end_ms: 101130\n- text: Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 101130\n  end_ms: 104280\n- text: How many mics do I rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 104280\n  end_ms: 106820\n- text: Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 106820\n  end_ms: 110030\n- text: How many mics do you rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 110030\n  end_ms: 112640\n- text: Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 112640\n  end_ms: 115830\n- text: How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 115830\n  end_ms: 118490\n- text: Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 118490\n  end_ms: 121290\n- text: I used to be underrated, now I take iron\n  start_ms: 121290\n  end_ms: 124290\n- text: Makes my shit constipated, I'm more concentrated\n  start_ms: 124290\n  end_ms: 127160\n- text: So on my day off, with David Sonenberg, I play golf\n  start_ms: 127160\n  end_ms: 130160\n- text: Run through Crown Heights screaming out, \"Mazel tov!\"\n  start_ms: 130160\n  end_ms: 133130\n- text: Problem with no man, before Black, I'm first human\n  start_ms: 133130\n  end_ms: 136040\n- text: Appetite to write like Frederick Douglass with a slave hand (bing)\n  start_ms: 136040\n  end_ms: 138940\n- text: Street pressure, word to papa, I ain't goin' under\n  start_ms: 138940\n  end_ms: 141520\n- text: One day I'll have a label and make deals with Tommy Mottola\n  start_ms: 141520\n  end_ms: 144880\n- text: Mama always told me, \"You're one in a million\"\n  start_ms: 144880\n  end_ms: 147490\n- text: Always watch your back, never tangle with Haitian Sicilians\n  start_ms: 147490\n  end_ms: 150710\n- text: Now I got a record deal, \"How does it feel?\"\n  start_ms: 150710\n  end_ms: 153150\n- text: I'm never gonna survive unless I get crazy like Seal\n  start_ms: 153150\n  end_ms: 156310\n- text: '''Cause the whole world''s out of order'\n  start_ms: 156310\n  end_ms: 158780\n- text: So at night, the fiends dance on grease with John Travolta\n  start_ms: 158780\n  end_ms: 161960\n- text: One got slaughtered as he coughed blood from his mouth\n  start_ms: 161960\n  end_ms: 164870\n- text: The other tried to duck and caught a left with my Guinness Stout\n  start_ms: 164870\n  end_ms: 168180\n- text: Brother, brother, can't you get this through your head?\n  start_ms: 168180\n  end_ms: 170530\n- text: This is set up by the feds, they're scoping us with their infrareds\n  start_ms: 170530\n  end_ms: 173700\n- text: How many mics do you rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 173700\n  end_ms: 176330\n- text: Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 176330\n  end_ms: 179410\n- text: How many mics do I rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 179410\n  end_ms: 182130\n- text: Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 182130\n  end_ms: 185230\n- text: How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 185230\n  end_ms: 187940\n- text: Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 187940\n  end_ms: 190940\n- text: Too many MCs, not enough mics\n  start_ms: 190940\n  end_ms: 193720\n- text: Exit your show like I exit the turnpike\n  start_ms: 193720\n  end_ms: 196860\n- text: Dice and dynamite like Dolemite\n  start_ms: 196860\n  end_ms: 199480\n- text: Double-deuce delight, I don't Dick Van Dyke\n  start_ms: 199480\n  end_ms: 202470\n- text: Star light to star bright, the freaks come out at night\n  start_ms: 202470\n  end_ms: 205190\n- text: Like my man Wyclef (I wear my sunglasses at night)\n  start_ms: 205190\n  end_ms: 208480\n- text: And my panache will mosh your entourage\n  start_ms: 208480\n  end_ms: 210950\n- text: Squash the squad and hide their bodies under my garage\n  start_ms: 210950\n  end_ms: 214190\n- text: And when the cops come lookin', I be bookin' to Brooklyn\n  start_ms: 214190\n  end_ms: 217850\n- text: Leave the trails broken, flippin' tokens to Hoboken\n  start_ms: 217850\n  end_ms: 220430\n- text: A clean getaway like Alec Baldwin\n  start_ms: 220430\n  end_ms: 222620\n- text: Driving in my fast car playing Tracy Chapman\n  start_ms: 222620\n  end_ms: 225280\n- text: How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 225280\n  end_ms: 227970\n- text: Say, me say many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 227970\n  end_ms: 231540\n- text: How many mics do you rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 231540\n  end_ms: 234270\n- text: Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 234270\n  end_ms: 237450\n- text: How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 237450\n  end_ms: 240150\n- text: Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 240150\n  end_ms: 243010\n- text: How many mics do I rip on the daily?\n  start_ms: 243010\n  end_ms: 245860\n- text: Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  start_ms: 245860\n  end_ms: 248910\n- text: Many, many, money, many, many, many\n  start_ms: 248910\n  end_ms: 251680\n- text: Many, many, money, many, many, many\n  start_ms: 251680\n  end_ms: 253030\n- text: Yo, as I was sayin', look\n  start_ms: 253030\n  end_ms: 254590\n- text: Yo, yo, hold up kid, hol' up, hol' up (yo, man)\n  start_ms: 254590\n  end_ms: 255110\n- text: Yo, ready or not, kid (yo, yo, I gotta tell you somethin', man)\n  start_ms: 255110\n  end_ms: 256740\n- text: They gon' move on us (If they do, but, yo)\n  start_ms: 256740\n  end_ms: 257820\n- text: And we gotta get prepared\n  start_ms: 257820\n  end_ms: 259110\n- text: We gotta get the forces together, man (I gotta do what I gotta do, man)\n  start_ms: 259110\n  end_ms: 261160\n- text: We gotta get our family together (I'ma haul ass down to Mexico, yo)\n  start_ms: 261160\n  end_ms: 262960\n- text: Ready or not, man (word is born)\n  start_ms: 262960\n  end_ms: 264060\n- text: Ready or not, they gon' move on us\n  start_ms: 264060\n  end_ms: 265920\n- text: So I tell you what, better safe than sorry\n  start_ms: 265920\n  end_ms: 268280\n- text: Let's be ready\n  start_ms: 268280\n  end_ms: 268920\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 268920\nplain: |-\n  Pick up your microphones, ha-ha\n  Pick up your microphones, yo\n\n  How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  Say, me say many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n\n  I get mad frustrated when I rhyme\n  Thinkin' of all them kids that try to do this for all the wrong reasons\n  Seasons change, mad things rearrange\n  But it all stays the same like the love doctor, strange\n  I'm tame like the rapper, get red like a snapper when they do that\n  Got your whole block saying, \"True dat\"\n  If only they knew that it was you who was irregular\n  Sold your soul for some secular muzak that's wack\n\n  Plus you use that loop over and over\n  Claiming that you got a new style, your attempts are futile\n  Ooh, child, you puerile, brain waves are sterile\n  You can't create, you just wait to take my tapes (bing)\n  Laced with malice, hands get calloused\n  From gripping microphones from here to Dallas\n  Go ask Alice if you don't believe me, I get in her visions like Stevie\n  See me ascend from the chalice like the weed be\n  Indeed we like Khalid Muhammad, MCs make me vomit\n\n  I get controversial, freak your style with no rehearsal\n  Au contraire mon frère, don't you even go there\n  Me without a mic is like a beat without a snare\n  I dare to tear into your ego\n  We go way back like some ganja and pelequo\n  Or ColecoVision, my rhymes make incisions in your anatomy\n  And I'll back this with Deuteronomy\n  Or Leviticus, God made this word, you can't get with this\n  Sweet like licorice, dangerous like syphilis, yeah\n\n  How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  How many mics do I rip on the daily?\n  Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  How many mics do you rip on the daily?\n  Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n\n  I used to be underrated, now I take iron\n  Makes my shit constipated, I'm more concentrated\n  So on my day off, with David Sonenberg, I play golf\n  Run through Crown Heights screaming out, \"Mazel tov!\"\n  Problem with no man, before Black, I'm first human\n  Appetite to write like Frederick Douglass with a slave hand (bing)\n  Street pressure, word to papa, I ain't goin' under\n  One day I'll have a label and make deals with Tommy Mottola\n\n  Mama always told me, \"You're one in a million\"\n  Always watch your back, never tangle with Haitian Sicilians\n  Now I got a record deal, \"How does it feel?\"\n  I'm never gonna survive unless I get crazy like Seal\n  'Cause the whole world's out of order\n  So at night, the fiends dance on grease with John Travolta\n  One got slaughtered as he coughed blood from his mouth\n  The other tried to duck and caught a left with my Guinness Stout\n  Brother, brother, can't you get this through your head?\n  This is set up by the feds, they're scoping us with their infrareds\n\n  How many mics do you rip on the daily?\n  Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  How many mics do I rip on the daily?\n  Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n\n  Too many MCs, not enough mics\n  Exit your show like I exit the turnpike\n  Dice and dynamite like Dolemite\n  Double-deuce delight, I don't Dick Van Dyke\n  Star light to star bright, the freaks come out at night\n  Like my man Wyclef (I wear my sunglasses at night)\n  And my panache will mosh your entourage\n  Squash the squad and hide their bodies under my garage\n  And when the cops come lookin', I be bookin' to Brooklyn\n  Leave the trails broken, flippin' tokens to Hoboken\n  A clean getaway like Alec Baldwin\n  Driving in my fast car playing Tracy Chapman\n\n  How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  Say, me say many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  How many mics do you rip on the daily?\n  Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  How many mics do we rip on the daily?\n  Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n  How many mics do I rip on the daily?\n  Many, money, say, me say many, many, many\n\n  Many, many, money, many, many, many\n  Many, many, money, many, many, many\n\n  Yo, as I was sayin', look\n  Yo, yo, hold up kid, hol' up, hol' up (yo, man)\n  Yo, ready or not, kid (yo, yo, I gotta tell you somethin', man)\n  They gon' move on us (If they do, but, yo)\n  And we gotta get prepared\n  We gotta get the forces together, man (I gotta do what I gotta do, man)\n  We gotta get our family together (I'ma haul ass down to Mexico, yo)\n  Ready or not, man (word is born)\n  Ready or not, they gon' move on us\n  So I tell you what, better safe than sorry\n  Let's be ready\n"},{"id":9009535,"name":"The Score (Album Version)","trackName":"The Score (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"Greatest Hits","duration":247.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You rockin' live but you ain't sayin' nothing\nIt's time to settle the score\n(I play my enemies like a game of chess)\n(Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka)\nHa, ha, ha, ha, ha, you shouldn't diss Refugees\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score)\n\nLook into the rhyme\nRum to the ripple\nSing boo\nBut at times I come in triple\n\nBlaow, blaow put the heater to your head\nNow you dead\nWyclef don't give a oooh if you dead\nRaaaaah, raaaah\nLet me attack just like the black cat\n\nYou in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.\nHooo, you've got to go for backup\nTo do what you gotta do.\nSo you'll be back with France CU\nTraitor in your crew is mafo heat\n\nYou put the poison in my tea\nAnd kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede\nI'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo\nAwoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what\nCompetition, stimulation for the rap man\n\nLosers check your tooters\nWhile I'm suckin' on your girls hooters.\nDon't play macho, while you got the gun\nCause if you got to reload\n\nWyclef the multi-talented\nAverage heads can't handle it\nI'll bring it to you live\nOnly if you want it\n\nMe and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's\n(C'mon check out my melody)\nThe W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef\nThrough any contest\nI'm victorious\nStill keep it real, if you will and manifest\nThrough your skills, not by how many shells you peel.\n\nI'm a bring down the ruckus\nPlay the nutcracker\nRough-neck rednecks make me no bother\nTime after time, ask Cyndi Lauper\nBoss, you don't want to fuck with my partners\n\nMotion, commotion, what's your proposal\nUphold two-fold, the crew is disposal\nLike utensil, false idental,\nI autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil\n\nI'm the L, Won't you pull it\nStraight to the head\nWith the speed of a bullet\nCuttin' niggas off at the meeky-freeky gullet\nLyrical sedative, keep niggas medative\n\nHead rushers I give to creative kids and fiends\nDreams of euphoria\nAurora\nTo another galaxy\nPhallic-sy\n\nBe this microphone, but get lifted\nLyrically I'm gifted\nBurn on in without the roach clip (it)\nHenders, mind-bender\nPleasure sender\n\nSo frequently your nerve endings belong to me\nWrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke\nWack niggas choke\nFrom the fumes that I emote,\nOr emit shit\n\nSee even I feel the mahogany L\nNatural hallucinogen\nTurning boys to men again\nWith estrogen dreams\nRelease blues, yellows and greens\nFrom Brownsville to Queens\n\nYou rockin' live but you ain't saying nothing\nIt's time to settle the score\nReady or not. Refugees taking over\n'Cause we soft spoken\nDoesn't mean that we've forgotten\nNow we permanently one\nAnd one day you will be forgotten\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score)\n\nSoldiers\nLeft, right, left, right, left, right\n(It's time to settle the score)\nLeft, right, left, right, left, left, left\n(It's time to settle the score) Diamond D\n\nI creep like a thief, no doubt the man's swift\nI'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff\nYou stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff\n(We know where to run)\nAnd start flakin' like dandruff\n\nC'mon son my steelo's tight\nCause by far I'm the best producer on the mic\nOn the right, analytical conceptions\nWith precision and leave lyrical incisions\nBing! ha, ha, ha\n\nAll they do is front and lie man\nYo' i'mma go get some drink\nYou alright? You straight?\nYeah I'm straight, I'll be right back\n\nHey yo' LJ I heard you fucked Michelle\nMan I been fucked Michelle\nMichelle Lesley Brown (Michelle Lesley Brown)\nFrom 225th Street?\n\nNigga Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th Street\nThat play ball in the park\nNigga, Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street, that play ball in the park\nMan I been fuckin' her\n\nWhat happened?\nWhat he say? What he say about her?\nHe said he fucked her\nBut, there go Michelle right there, call her over here\n\nHey yo' Michelle, come here for a second baby\nCome here, come her\nAsk her...\nYo', you fuck Jay?\nHell no, eeeuw. What?\n\nNigga not that Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street\nThat play ball in the park, the other Michelle Lesley Brown\nNigga that's the only one\nHow many Michelle's is there?\nShe got a cousin or some shit like that\nKnow what I'm saying...","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: The Score (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: Greatest Hits\n  duration_ms: 247000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  You rockin' live but you ain't sayin' nothing\n  It's time to settle the score\n  (I play my enemies like a game of chess)\n  (Playin' Mr. Big, I'm gonna get you sucka)\n  Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, you shouldn't diss Refugees\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n\n  Look into the rhyme\n  Rum to the ripple\n  Sing boo\n  But at times I come in triple\n\n  Blaow, blaow put the heater to your head\n  Now you dead\n  Wyclef don't give a oooh if you dead\n  Raaaaah, raaaah\n  Let me attack just like the black cat\n\n  You in the wrong neighborhood, check the map.\n  Hooo, you've got to go for backup\n  To do what you gotta do.\n  So you'll be back with France CU\n  Traitor in your crew is mafo heat\n\n  You put the poison in my tea\n  And kill the toad, But I'll be back with the centipede\n  I'm on some new technique, drunken bamboo\n  Awoo hoo a hoo, I'm taking all crews what\n  Competition, stimulation for the rap man\n\n  Losers check your tooters\n  While I'm suckin' on your girls hooters.\n  Don't play macho, while you got the gun\n  Cause if you got to reload\n\n  Wyclef the multi-talented\n  Average heads can't handle it\n  I'll bring it to you live\n  Only if you want it\n\n  Me and my guitar go back like the days of the RMC's\n  (C'mon check out my melody)\n  The W-Y-C-L-E-F, Wyclef\n  Through any contest\n  I'm victorious\n  Still keep it real, if you will and manifest\n  Through your skills, not by how many shells you peel.\n\n  I'm a bring down the ruckus\n  Play the nutcracker\n  Rough-neck rednecks make me no bother\n  Time after time, ask Cyndi Lauper\n  Boss, you don't want to fuck with my partners\n\n  Motion, commotion, what's your proposal\n  Uphold two-fold, the crew is disposal\n  Like utensil, false idental,\n  I autograph my lyrics with a number 2 pencil\n\n  I'm the L, Won't you pull it\n  Straight to the head\n  With the speed of a bullet\n  Cuttin' niggas off at the meeky-freeky gullet\n  Lyrical sedative, keep niggas medative\n\n  Head rushers I give to creative kids and fiends\n  Dreams of euphoria\n  Aurora\n  To another galaxy\n  Phallic-sy\n\n  Be this microphone, but get lifted\n  Lyrically I'm gifted\n  Burn on in without the roach clip (it)\n  Henders, mind-bender\n  Pleasure sender\n\n  So frequently your nerve endings belong to me\n  Wrongfully you put me down not receiving the full capacity of my smoke\n  Wack niggas choke\n  From the fumes that I emote,\n  Or emit shit\n\n  See even I feel the mahogany L\n  Natural hallucinogen\n  Turning boys to men again\n  With estrogen dreams\n  Release blues, yellows and greens\n  From Brownsville to Queens\n\n  You rockin' live but you ain't saying nothing\n  It's time to settle the score\n  Ready or not. Refugees taking over\n  'Cause we soft spoken\n  Doesn't mean that we've forgotten\n  Now we permanently one\n  And one day you will be forgotten\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n\n  Soldiers\n  Left, right, left, right, left, right\n  (It's time to settle the score)\n  Left, right, left, right, left, left, left\n  (It's time to settle the score) Diamond D\n\n  I creep like a thief, no doubt the man's swift\n  I'm more magnificent than Lee Van Cliff\n  You stand stiff and got the nerve to let your man riff\n  (We know where to run)\n  And start flakin' like dandruff\n\n  C'mon son my steelo's tight\n  Cause by far I'm the best producer on the mic\n  On the right, analytical conceptions\n  With precision and leave lyrical incisions\n  Bing! ha, ha, ha\n\n  All they do is front and lie man\n  Yo' i'mma go get some drink\n  You alright? You straight?\n  Yeah I'm straight, I'll be right back\n\n  Hey yo' LJ I heard you fucked Michelle\n  Man I been fucked Michelle\n  Michelle Lesley Brown (Michelle Lesley Brown)\n  From 225th Street?\n\n  Nigga Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th Street\n  That play ball in the park\n  Nigga, Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street, that play ball in the park\n  Man I been fuckin' her\n\n  What happened?\n  What he say? What he say about her?\n  He said he fucked her\n  But, there go Michelle right there, call her over here\n\n  Hey yo' Michelle, come here for a second baby\n  Come here, come her\n  Ask her...\n  Yo', you fuck Jay?\n  Hell no, eeeuw. What?\n\n  Nigga not that Michelle Lesley Brown from 225th street\n  That play ball in the park, the other Michelle Lesley Brown\n  Nigga that's the only one\n  How many Michelle's is there?\n  She got a cousin or some shit like that\n  Know what I'm saying...\n"},{"id":29732823,"name":"Killing Me Softly With His Song (Album Version)","trackName":"Killing Me Softly With His Song (Album Version)","artistName":"The Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":299.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Strumming my pain with his fingers\nSinging my life with his words\nKilling me softly with his song\nKilling me softly with his song\nTelling my whole life with his words\nKilling me softly with his song\n\nYo (yeah, yeah)\nThis is Wyclef, Refugee Camp (L Boogie up in here)\nPra'zrel (Pra'zrel up in here)\nLittle Base sittin' up there on the bass (Refugees up in here)\nWhile I'm on this, I got my girl L\nOne time (one time)\nOne time (one time)\nAyo L, you know you got the lyrics\n\nI heard he sang a good song\nI heard he had a style\nAnd so I came to see him\nAnd listen for a while\nAnd there he was\nThis young boy, stranger to my eyes\n\nStrumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\nSinging my life with his words (two times, two times)\nKilling me softly with his song\nKilling me softly with his song\nTelling my whole life with his words\nKilling me softly with his song\n\nI felt all flushed with fever\nEmbarrassed by the crowd\nI felt he found my letters\nThen read each one out loud\nI prayed that he would finish\nBut he just kept right on\n\nStrumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\nSinging my life with his words (two times, two times)\nKilling me softly with his song\nKilling me softly with his song\nTelling my whole life with his words\nKilling me softly\nWith his song (yo, L Boog, take me to the bridge)\nBust it\n\nWhoa\nWhoa\nHuh, huh-uh\nLa-la-la, la-la-la (la)\nWhoa, la-ah (la, la)\nWhoa, la-ah (la, la)\nYeah, ha, ha, ha (c'mon)\nLa (c'mon, c'mon, c'mon)\n\nStrumming my pain with his fingers (yes, he was)\nSinging my life with his words (mine)\nKilling me softly with his song\nKilling me softly with his song (yeah)\nTelling my whole life (whole life) with his words (his words)\nKilling me softly\nWith his song\n\nYo (strumming my pain), put your hands together\nFor L Boogie (yeah) from the Refugee Camp\n(Singing my life with his words) Refugees up in here\n(You know how we do) L Boogie up in here (yeah)\nI said, L Boogie up in here (Wyclef, Prazrel) Wyclef, up in here\n(Killing me softly with his song) my man Little Base\nPra'zrel up in here (Jerry one time), little T Rocks up in here\n(Killing me softly) we got Warren up in here (this is how we)\nWarren up, up in here (with his song)\nOutsiders up in here (Refugee Camp)\n(Telling my whole life)\nWe got Fallon up in here (Refugee Camp), Mulaney\nMulaney (with his words), Mulaney's up in here (yeah, Refugee Camp)\nWe got Val' up in here (killing me softly)\n\nEverybody got a breaking point, kid\nAnd they'll rat on you, the family niggas'll rat on you\nThat's why we gotta be prepared (yeah, motherfucker)\nTo take whoever out we need to (I told you I was gon' get you next)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.19] Strumming my pain with his fingers\n[00:05.03] Singing my life with his words\n[00:10.67] Killing me softly with his song\n[00:14.46] Killing me softly with his song\n[00:19.76] Telling my whole life with his words\n[00:25.03] Killing me softly with his song\n[00:33.39] \n[00:37.65] Yo (yeah, yeah)\n[00:39.14] This is Wyclef, Refugee Camp (L Boogie up in here)\n[00:42.10] Pra'zrel (Pra'zrel up in here)\n[00:44.06] Little Base sittin' up there on the bass (Refugees up in here)\n[00:47.47] While I'm on this, I got my girl L\n[00:50.51] One time (one time)\n[00:51.98] One time (one time)\n[00:53.05] Ayo L, you know you got the lyrics\n[00:58.51] I heard he sang a good song\n[01:03.53] I heard he had a style\n[01:08.71] And so I came to see him\n[01:12.77] And listen for a while\n[01:19.09] And there he was\n[01:21.39] This young boy, stranger to my eyes\n[01:28.39] Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n[01:33.62] Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n[01:38.93] Killing me softly with his song\n[01:42.88] Killing me softly with his song\n[01:47.85] Telling my whole life with his words\n[01:53.14] Killing me softly with his song\n[02:02.57] \n[02:06.00] I felt all flushed with fever\n[02:11.39] Embarrassed by the crowd\n[02:16.12] I felt he found my letters\n[02:20.08] Then read each one out loud\n[02:26.55] I prayed that he would finish\n[02:31.72] But he just kept right on\n[02:35.81] Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n[02:41.13] Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n[02:46.39] Killing me softly with his song\n[02:50.37] Killing me softly with his song\n[02:55.45] Telling my whole life with his words\n[03:00.64] Killing me softly\n[03:05.51] With his song (yo, L Boog, take me to the bridge)\n[03:11.55] Bust it\n[03:12.20] Whoa\n[03:16.28] Whoa\n[03:19.56] Huh, huh-uh\n[03:22.88] La-la-la, la-la-la (la)\n[03:27.04] Whoa, la-ah (la, la)\n[03:32.38] Whoa, la-ah (la, la)\n[03:40.52] Yeah, ha, ha, ha (c'mon)\n[03:43.35] La (c'mon, c'mon, c'mon)\n[03:48.66] Strumming my pain with his fingers (yes, he was)\n[03:53.61] Singing my life with his words (mine)\n[03:59.15] Killing me softly with his song\n[04:02.95] Killing me softly with his song (yeah)\n[04:08.23] Telling my whole life (whole life) with his words (his words)\n[04:13.58] Killing me softly\n[04:18.14] With his song\n[04:21.95] \n[04:24.40] Yo (strumming my pain), put your hands together\n[04:27.32] For L Boogie (yeah) from the Refugee Camp\n[04:30.05] (Singing my life with his words) Refugees up in here\n[04:31.48] (You know how we do) L Boogie up in here (yeah)\n[04:33.65] I said, L Boogie up in here (Wyclef, Prazrel) Wyclef, up in here\n[04:35.53] (Killing me softly with his song) my man Little Base\n[04:37.23] Pra'zrel up in here (Jerry one time), little T Rocks up in here\n[04:39.38] (Killing me softly) we got Warren up in here (this is how we)\n[04:42.15] Warren up, up in here (with his song)\n[04:42.65] Outsiders up in here (Refugee Camp)\n[04:44.47] (Telling my whole life)\n[04:44.92] We got Fallon up in here (Refugee Camp), Mulaney\n[04:46.42] Mulaney (with his words), Mulaney's up in here (yeah, Refugee Camp)\n[04:49.21] We got Val' up in here (killing me softly)\n[04:50.34] Everybody got a breaking point, kid\n[04:52.26] And they'll rat on you, the family niggas'll rat on you\n[04:54.52] That's why we gotta be prepared (yeah, motherfucker)\n[04:55.72] To take whoever out we need to (I told you I was gon' get you next)\n[04:56.19] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Killing Me Softly With His Song (Album Version)\n  artist: The Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 299000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Strumming my pain with his fingers\n  start_ms: 190\n  end_ms: 5030\n- text: Singing my life with his words\n  start_ms: 5030\n  end_ms: 10670\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 10670\n  end_ms: 14460\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 14460\n  end_ms: 19760\n- text: Telling my whole life with his words\n  start_ms: 19760\n  end_ms: 25030\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 25030\n  end_ms: 33390\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 33390\n  end_ms: 37650\n- text: Yo (yeah, yeah)\n  start_ms: 37650\n  end_ms: 39140\n- text: This is Wyclef, Refugee Camp (L Boogie up in here)\n  start_ms: 39140\n  end_ms: 42100\n- text: Pra'zrel (Pra'zrel up in here)\n  start_ms: 42100\n  end_ms: 44060\n- text: Little Base sittin' up there on the bass (Refugees up in here)\n  start_ms: 44060\n  end_ms: 47470\n- text: While I'm on this, I got my girl L\n  start_ms: 47470\n  end_ms: 50510\n- text: One time (one time)\n  start_ms: 50510\n  end_ms: 51980\n- text: One time (one time)\n  start_ms: 51980\n  end_ms: 53050\n- text: Ayo L, you know you got the lyrics\n  start_ms: 53050\n  end_ms: 58510\n- text: I heard he sang a good song\n  start_ms: 58510\n  end_ms: 63530\n- text: I heard he had a style\n  start_ms: 63530\n  end_ms: 68710\n- text: And so I came to see him\n  start_ms: 68710\n  end_ms: 72770\n- text: And listen for a while\n  start_ms: 72770\n  end_ms: 79090\n- text: And there he was\n  start_ms: 79090\n  end_ms: 81390\n- text: This young boy, stranger to my eyes\n  start_ms: 81390\n  end_ms: 88390\n- text: Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n  start_ms: 88390\n  end_ms: 93620\n- text: Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n  start_ms: 93620\n  end_ms: 98930\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 98930\n  end_ms: 102880\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 102880\n  end_ms: 107850\n- text: Telling my whole life with his words\n  start_ms: 107850\n  end_ms: 113140\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 113140\n  end_ms: 122570\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 122570\n  end_ms: 126000\n- text: I felt all flushed with fever\n  start_ms: 126000\n  end_ms: 131390\n- text: Embarrassed by the crowd\n  start_ms: 131390\n  end_ms: 136120\n- text: I felt he found my letters\n  start_ms: 136120\n  end_ms: 140080\n- text: Then read each one out loud\n  start_ms: 140080\n  end_ms: 146550\n- text: I prayed that he would finish\n  start_ms: 146550\n  end_ms: 151720\n- text: But he just kept right on\n  start_ms: 151720\n  end_ms: 155810\n- text: Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n  start_ms: 155810\n  end_ms: 161130\n- text: Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n  start_ms: 161130\n  end_ms: 166390\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 166390\n  end_ms: 170370\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 170370\n  end_ms: 175450\n- text: Telling my whole life with his words\n  start_ms: 175450\n  end_ms: 180640\n- text: Killing me softly\n  start_ms: 180640\n  end_ms: 185510\n- text: With his song (yo, L Boog, take me to the bridge)\n  start_ms: 185510\n  end_ms: 191550\n- text: Bust it\n  start_ms: 191550\n  end_ms: 192200\n- text: Whoa\n  start_ms: 192200\n  end_ms: 196280\n- text: Whoa\n  start_ms: 196280\n  end_ms: 199560\n- text: Huh, huh-uh\n  start_ms: 199560\n  end_ms: 202880\n- text: La-la-la, la-la-la (la)\n  start_ms: 202880\n  end_ms: 207040\n- text: Whoa, la-ah (la, la)\n  start_ms: 207040\n  end_ms: 212380\n- text: Whoa, la-ah (la, la)\n  start_ms: 212380\n  end_ms: 220520\n- text: Yeah, ha, ha, ha (c'mon)\n  start_ms: 220520\n  end_ms: 223350\n- text: La (c'mon, c'mon, c'mon)\n  start_ms: 223350\n  end_ms: 228660\n- text: Strumming my pain with his fingers (yes, he was)\n  start_ms: 228660\n  end_ms: 233610\n- text: Singing my life with his words (mine)\n  start_ms: 233610\n  end_ms: 239150\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 239150\n  end_ms: 242950\n- text: Killing me softly with his song (yeah)\n  start_ms: 242950\n  end_ms: 248230\n- text: Telling my whole life (whole life) with his words (his words)\n  start_ms: 248230\n  end_ms: 253580\n- text: Killing me softly\n  start_ms: 253580\n  end_ms: 258140\n- text: With his song\n  start_ms: 258140\n  end_ms: 261950\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 261950\n  end_ms: 264400\n- text: Yo (strumming my pain), put your hands together\n  start_ms: 264400\n  end_ms: 267320\n- text: For L Boogie (yeah) from the Refugee Camp\n  start_ms: 267320\n  end_ms: 270050\n- text: (Singing my life with his words) Refugees up in here\n  start_ms: 270050\n  end_ms: 271480\n- text: (You know how we do) L Boogie up in here (yeah)\n  start_ms: 271480\n  end_ms: 273650\n- text: I said, L Boogie up in here (Wyclef, Prazrel) Wyclef, up in here\n  start_ms: 273650\n  end_ms: 275530\n- text: (Killing me softly with his song) my man Little Base\n  start_ms: 275530\n  end_ms: 277230\n- text: Pra'zrel up in here (Jerry one time), little T Rocks up in here\n  start_ms: 277230\n  end_ms: 279380\n- text: (Killing me softly) we got Warren up in here (this is how we)\n  start_ms: 279380\n  end_ms: 282150\n- text: Warren up, up in here (with his song)\n  start_ms: 282150\n  end_ms: 282650\n- text: Outsiders up in here (Refugee Camp)\n  start_ms: 282650\n  end_ms: 284470\n- text: (Telling my whole life)\n  start_ms: 284470\n  end_ms: 284920\n- text: We got Fallon up in here (Refugee Camp), Mulaney\n  start_ms: 284920\n  end_ms: 286420\n- text: Mulaney (with his words), Mulaney's up in here (yeah, Refugee Camp)\n  start_ms: 286420\n  end_ms: 289210\n- text: We got Val' up in here (killing me softly)\n  start_ms: 289210\n  end_ms: 290340\n- text: Everybody got a breaking point, kid\n  start_ms: 290340\n  end_ms: 292260\n- text: And they'll rat on you, the family niggas'll rat on you\n  start_ms: 292260\n  end_ms: 294520\n- text: That's why we gotta be prepared (yeah, motherfucker)\n  start_ms: 294520\n  end_ms: 295720\n- text: To take whoever out we need to (I told you I was gon' get you next)\n  start_ms: 295720\n  end_ms: 296190\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 296190\nplain: |-\n  Strumming my pain with his fingers\n  Singing my life with his words\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Telling my whole life with his words\n  Killing me softly with his song\n\n  Yo (yeah, yeah)\n  This is Wyclef, Refugee Camp (L Boogie up in here)\n  Pra'zrel (Pra'zrel up in here)\n  Little Base sittin' up there on the bass (Refugees up in here)\n  While I'm on this, I got my girl L\n  One time (one time)\n  One time (one time)\n  Ayo L, you know you got the lyrics\n\n  I heard he sang a good song\n  I heard he had a style\n  And so I came to see him\n  And listen for a while\n  And there he was\n  This young boy, stranger to my eyes\n\n  Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n  Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Telling my whole life with his words\n  Killing me softly with his song\n\n  I felt all flushed with fever\n  Embarrassed by the crowd\n  I felt he found my letters\n  Then read each one out loud\n  I prayed that he would finish\n  But he just kept right on\n\n  Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n  Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Telling my whole life with his words\n  Killing me softly\n  With his song (yo, L Boog, take me to the bridge)\n  Bust it\n\n  Whoa\n  Whoa\n  Huh, huh-uh\n  La-la-la, la-la-la (la)\n  Whoa, la-ah (la, la)\n  Whoa, la-ah (la, la)\n  Yeah, ha, ha, ha (c'mon)\n  La (c'mon, c'mon, c'mon)\n\n  Strumming my pain with his fingers (yes, he was)\n  Singing my life with his words (mine)\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Killing me softly with his song (yeah)\n  Telling my whole life (whole life) with his words (his words)\n  Killing me softly\n  With his song\n\n  Yo (strumming my pain), put your hands together\n  For L Boogie (yeah) from the Refugee Camp\n  (Singing my life with his words) Refugees up in here\n  (You know how we do) L Boogie up in here (yeah)\n  I said, L Boogie up in here (Wyclef, Prazrel) Wyclef, up in here\n  (Killing me softly with his song) my man Little Base\n  Pra'zrel up in here (Jerry one time), little T Rocks up in here\n  (Killing me softly) we got Warren up in here (this is how we)\n  Warren up, up in here (with his song)\n  Outsiders up in here (Refugee Camp)\n  (Telling my whole life)\n  We got Fallon up in here (Refugee Camp), Mulaney\n  Mulaney (with his words), Mulaney's up in here (yeah, Refugee Camp)\n  We got Val' up in here (killing me softly)\n\n  Everybody got a breaking point, kid\n  And they'll rat on you, the family niggas'll rat on you\n  That's why we gotta be prepared (yeah, motherfucker)\n  To take whoever out we need to (I told you I was gon' get you next)\n"},{"id":30858185,"name":"Killing Me Softly with His Song (Album Version)","trackName":"Killing Me Softly with His Song (Album Version)","artistName":"Fugees","albumName":"The Score","duration":299.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Strumming my pain with his fingers\nSinging my life with his words\nKilling me softly with his song\nKilling me softly with his song\nTelling my whole life with his words\nKilling me softly with his song\n\nYo (yeah, yeah)\nThis is Wyclef, Refugee Camp (L Boogie up in here)\nPra'zrel (Pra'zrel up in here)\nLittle Base sittin' up there on the bass (Refugees up in here)\nWhile I'm on this, I got my girl L\nOne time (one time)\nOne time (one time)\nAyo L, you know you got the lyrics\n\nI heard he sang a good song\nI heard he had a style\nAnd so I came to see him\nAnd listen for a while\nAnd there he was\nThis young boy, stranger to my eyes\n\nStrumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\nSinging my life with his words (two times, two times)\nKilling me softly with his song\nKilling me softly with his song\nTelling my whole life with his words\nKilling me softly with his song\n\nI felt all flushed with fever\nEmbarrassed by the crowd\nI felt he found my letters\nThen read each one out loud\nI prayed that he would finish\nBut he just kept right on\n\nStrumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\nSinging my life with his words (two times, two times)\nKilling me softly with his song\nKilling me softly with his song\nTelling my whole life with his words\nKilling me softly with his song\n\nYo, L Boog, take me to the bridge\n\nStrumming my pain with his fingers (yes he was)\nSinging my life with his words\nKilling me softly with his song\nKilling me softly with his song\nTelling my whole life with his words\nKilling me softly with his song\n\nYo put your hands together for L Boogie from the Refugee Camp\n(Up in here) you know how we do (L Boogie up in here)\nWyclef, Pra-zrel (Wyclef up in here)\nMy man Little Base (Pra'zrel up in here)\n\nJerry one time (T Rocks up in here, we got Warren up in here)\nThis is how we (Warren up, up in here, Outsiders up in here)\nRefugee Camp, Refugee Camp (we got Fallon up in here, Mulaney)\n(Mulaney's up in here, we got Val' up in here)\n\nEverybody got a breaking point kid\nAnd they'll rat on you\nThe family niggas will rat on you\nThat's why we gotta be prepared to take whoever out we need to\n(I told you I was gonna get you next)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.76] Strumming my pain with his fingers\n[00:05.33] Singing my life with his words\n[00:11.98] Killing me softly with his song\n[00:15.37] Killing me softly with his song\n[00:22.65] Telling my whole life with his words\n[00:25.36] Killing me softly with his song\n[00:38.77] Yo (yeah, yeah)\n[00:41.06] This is Wyclef, Refugee Camp (L Boogie up in here)\n[00:44.56] Pra'zrel (Pra'zrel up in here)\n[00:47.32] Little Base sittin' up there on the bass (Refugees up in here)\n[00:49.10] While I'm on this, I got my girl L\n[00:51.04] One time (one time)\n[00:51.96] One time (one time)\n[00:53.25] Ayo L, you know you got the lyrics\n[00:57.09] I heard he sang a good song\n[01:04.34] I heard he had a style\n[01:06.92] And so I came to see him\n[01:15.25] And listen for a while\n[01:18.90] And there he was\n[01:23.38] This young boy, stranger to my eyes\n[01:30.28] Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n[01:35.33] Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n[01:39.24] Killing me softly with his song\n[01:43.13] Killing me softly with his song\n[01:55.01] Telling my whole life with his words\n[01:55.69] Killing me softly with his song\n[02:05.12] I felt all flushed with fever\n[02:10.03] Embarrassed by the crowd\n[02:12.97] I felt he found my letters\n[02:19.95] Then read each one out loud\n[02:30.32] I prayed that he would finish\n[02:35.33] But he just kept right on\n[02:35.98] Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n[02:41.50] Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n[02:46.40] Killing me softly with his song\n[02:51.04] Killing me softly with his song\n[02:55.77] Telling my whole life with his words\n[03:01.67] Killing me softly with his song\n[03:04.59] Yo, L Boog, take me to the bridge\n[03:43.72] Strumming my pain with his fingers (yes he was)\n[03:53.59] Singing my life with his words\n[03:59.59] Killing me softly with his song\n[04:06.37] Killing me softly with his song\n[04:09.34] Telling my whole life with his words\n[04:15.34] Killing me softly with his song\n[04:25.85] Yo put your hands together for L Boogie from the Refugee Camp\n[04:30.07] (Up in here) you know how we do (L Boogie up in here)\n[04:35.66] Wyclef, Pra-zrel (Wyclef up in here)\n[04:36.99] My man Little Base (Pra'zrel up in here)\n[04:38.18] Jerry one time (T Rocks up in here, we got Warren up in here)\n[04:40.73] This is how we (Warren up, up in here, Outsiders up in here)\n[04:42.17] Refugee Camp, Refugee Camp (we got Fallon up in here, Mulaney)\n[04:44.01] (Mulaney's up in here, we got Val' up in here)\n[04:45.27] Everybody got a breaking point kid\n[04:46.19] And they'll rat on you\n[04:47.11] The family niggas will rat on you\n[04:47.77] That's why we gotta be prepared to take whoever out we need to\n[04:48.91] (I told you I was gonna get you next)\n[04:49.36] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Killing Me Softly with His Song (Album Version)\n  artist: Fugees\n  album: The Score\n  duration_ms: 299000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Strumming my pain with his fingers\n  start_ms: 760\n  end_ms: 5330\n- text: Singing my life with his words\n  start_ms: 5330\n  end_ms: 11980\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 11980\n  end_ms: 15370\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 15370\n  end_ms: 22650\n- text: Telling my whole life with his words\n  start_ms: 22650\n  end_ms: 25360\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 25360\n  end_ms: 38770\n- text: Yo (yeah, yeah)\n  start_ms: 38770\n  end_ms: 41060\n- text: This is Wyclef, Refugee Camp (L Boogie up in here)\n  start_ms: 41060\n  end_ms: 44560\n- text: Pra'zrel (Pra'zrel up in here)\n  start_ms: 44560\n  end_ms: 47320\n- text: Little Base sittin' up there on the bass (Refugees up in here)\n  start_ms: 47320\n  end_ms: 49100\n- text: While I'm on this, I got my girl L\n  start_ms: 49100\n  end_ms: 51040\n- text: One time (one time)\n  start_ms: 51040\n  end_ms: 51960\n- text: One time (one time)\n  start_ms: 51960\n  end_ms: 53250\n- text: Ayo L, you know you got the lyrics\n  start_ms: 53250\n  end_ms: 57090\n- text: I heard he sang a good song\n  start_ms: 57090\n  end_ms: 64340\n- text: I heard he had a style\n  start_ms: 64340\n  end_ms: 66920\n- text: And so I came to see him\n  start_ms: 66920\n  end_ms: 75250\n- text: And listen for a while\n  start_ms: 75250\n  end_ms: 78900\n- text: And there he was\n  start_ms: 78900\n  end_ms: 83380\n- text: This young boy, stranger to my eyes\n  start_ms: 83380\n  end_ms: 90280\n- text: Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n  start_ms: 90280\n  end_ms: 95330\n- text: Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n  start_ms: 95330\n  end_ms: 99240\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 99240\n  end_ms: 103130\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 103130\n  end_ms: 115010\n- text: Telling my whole life with his words\n  start_ms: 115010\n  end_ms: 115690\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 115690\n  end_ms: 125120\n- text: I felt all flushed with fever\n  start_ms: 125120\n  end_ms: 130030\n- text: Embarrassed by the crowd\n  start_ms: 130030\n  end_ms: 132970\n- text: I felt he found my letters\n  start_ms: 132970\n  end_ms: 139950\n- text: Then read each one out loud\n  start_ms: 139950\n  end_ms: 150320\n- text: I prayed that he would finish\n  start_ms: 150320\n  end_ms: 155330\n- text: But he just kept right on\n  start_ms: 155330\n  end_ms: 155980\n- text: Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n  start_ms: 155980\n  end_ms: 161500\n- text: Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n  start_ms: 161500\n  end_ms: 166400\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 166400\n  end_ms: 171040\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 171040\n  end_ms: 175770\n- text: Telling my whole life with his words\n  start_ms: 175770\n  end_ms: 181670\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 181670\n  end_ms: 184590\n- text: Yo, L Boog, take me to the bridge\n  start_ms: 184590\n  end_ms: 223720\n- text: Strumming my pain with his fingers (yes he was)\n  start_ms: 223720\n  end_ms: 233590\n- text: Singing my life with his words\n  start_ms: 233590\n  end_ms: 239590\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 239590\n  end_ms: 246370\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 246370\n  end_ms: 249340\n- text: Telling my whole life with his words\n  start_ms: 249340\n  end_ms: 255340\n- text: Killing me softly with his song\n  start_ms: 255340\n  end_ms: 265850\n- text: Yo put your hands together for L Boogie from the Refugee Camp\n  start_ms: 265850\n  end_ms: 270070\n- text: (Up in here) you know how we do (L Boogie up in here)\n  start_ms: 270070\n  end_ms: 275660\n- text: Wyclef, Pra-zrel (Wyclef up in here)\n  start_ms: 275660\n  end_ms: 276990\n- text: My man Little Base (Pra'zrel up in here)\n  start_ms: 276990\n  end_ms: 278180\n- text: Jerry one time (T Rocks up in here, we got Warren up in here)\n  start_ms: 278180\n  end_ms: 280730\n- text: This is how we (Warren up, up in here, Outsiders up in here)\n  start_ms: 280730\n  end_ms: 282170\n- text: Refugee Camp, Refugee Camp (we got Fallon up in here, Mulaney)\n  start_ms: 282170\n  end_ms: 284010\n- text: (Mulaney's up in here, we got Val' up in here)\n  start_ms: 284010\n  end_ms: 285270\n- text: Everybody got a breaking point kid\n  start_ms: 285270\n  end_ms: 286190\n- text: And they'll rat on you\n  start_ms: 286190\n  end_ms: 287110\n- text: The family niggas will rat on you\n  start_ms: 287110\n  end_ms: 287770\n- text: That's why we gotta be prepared to take whoever out we need to\n  start_ms: 287770\n  end_ms: 288910\n- text: (I told you I was gonna get you next)\n  start_ms: 288910\n  end_ms: 289360\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 289360\nplain: |-\n  Strumming my pain with his fingers\n  Singing my life with his words\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Telling my whole life with his words\n  Killing me softly with his song\n\n  Yo (yeah, yeah)\n  This is Wyclef, Refugee Camp (L Boogie up in here)\n  Pra'zrel (Pra'zrel up in here)\n  Little Base sittin' up there on the bass (Refugees up in here)\n  While I'm on this, I got my girl L\n  One time (one time)\n  One time (one time)\n  Ayo L, you know you got the lyrics\n\n  I heard he sang a good song\n  I heard he had a style\n  And so I came to see him\n  And listen for a while\n  And there he was\n  This young boy, stranger to my eyes\n\n  Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n  Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Telling my whole life with his words\n  Killing me softly with his song\n\n  I felt all flushed with fever\n  Embarrassed by the crowd\n  I felt he found my letters\n  Then read each one out loud\n  I prayed that he would finish\n  But he just kept right on\n\n  Strumming my pain with his fingers (one time, one time)\n  Singing my life with his words (two times, two times)\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Telling my whole life with his words\n  Killing me softly with his song\n\n  Yo, L Boog, take me to the bridge\n\n  Strumming my pain with his fingers (yes he was)\n  Singing my life with his words\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Killing me softly with his song\n  Telling my whole life with his words\n  Killing me softly with his song\n\n  Yo put your hands together for L Boogie from the Refugee Camp\n  (Up in here) you know how we do (L Boogie up in here)\n  Wyclef, Pra-zrel (Wyclef up in here)\n  My man Little Base (Pra'zrel up in here)\n\n  Jerry one time (T Rocks up in here, we got Warren up in here)\n  This is how we (Warren up, up in here, Outsiders up in here)\n  Refugee Camp, Refugee Camp (we got Fallon up in here, Mulaney)\n  (Mulaney's up in here, we got Val' up in here)\n\n  Everybody got a breaking point kid\n  And they'll rat on you\n  The family niggas will rat on you\n  That's why we gotta be prepared to take whoever out we need to\n  (I told you I was gonna get you next)\n"}]