[{"id":7984784,"name":"9 Milli Bros.","trackName":"9 Milli Bros.","artistName":"Ghostface Killah","albumName":"GhostDeini the Great","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros.\n  artist: Ghostface Killah\n  album: GhostDeini the Great\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":426756,"name":"9 Milli Bros","trackName":"9 Milli Bros","artistName":"Ghostface Killah","albumName":"Fishscale","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bob Digi, U-G-O-D, Raekwon\nThe Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM-E-T-H-O-D the B-O-B-B\n(The Man)\n\nStraight up, Masta Killa, the GZA\nThe Genius, it's the Ol' D-d-dirty Bastard\nOne, two, one, two\n(Killer Beats)\nTurn it up, turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up\n\nYo, you hear me?\n(Yeah, whut up Toney?)\nW'sup Don' Don'\n(All the way up)\nYou know how we do\n(Let's get this paper together)\nYou motherfuckin' right Pa, uh, huh\n(That's right, c'mon nigga)\nThat's as far as it goes?\n\nSound about to go off on some real live\nWu shit, uh, huh\n(WTC, Ghost-face)\nLemme give y'all the bullshit\nFor y'all niggas, check it out\n\nThe burners in the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden child's that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answer\n'Cuz if I had a chance to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crack heads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the hoe ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dust-bones out\nWith star-writers like I fucked Celine Dion\n\nStuck everything that's the God's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang head-banger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow suede one matching hat with the gray gun\n\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all wore down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got no jury on\nBet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n\nTwo of my silver-backs fun through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cognac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\nYo, one, two\nYo, Dirt McGirt, solid tone smith with fifth shots\nLick shots, leave your head like a Shaolin monk with six dots\nBrooklyn, zoo, zoo\nBrooklyn, zoo, zoo\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\n\nDiggler, a.k.a The Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the murder land\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevator we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy 'cuz she Lawless\nShe's exactly like that 10304 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n\nFrom the East to the Ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skills\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nThey hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\nWe grindin', down to the bone my name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\n\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n160, my song, we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rock stars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't Ghost\nIt's no joke, iron coat, rifle with a scope\nOne toke, brains float, shot to the throat\n\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nSouthern crime scene, body on the block\nEyes open from the shock of being popped in the neck\nYet he's still hella lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, 'cuz I have ta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the Island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed us 'cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off your Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss he the boss\n\nHandcuffed to the turntables like Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain pearly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros\n  artist: Ghostface Killah\n  album: Fishscale\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bob Digi, U-G-O-D, Raekwon\n  The Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M-E-T-H-O-D the B-O-B-B\n  (The Man)\n\n  Straight up, Masta Killa, the GZA\n  The Genius, it's the Ol' D-d-dirty Bastard\n  One, two, one, two\n  (Killer Beats)\n  Turn it up, turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up\n\n  Yo, you hear me?\n  (Yeah, whut up Toney?)\n  W'sup Don' Don'\n  (All the way up)\n  You know how we do\n  (Let's get this paper together)\n  You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh, huh\n  (That's right, c'mon nigga)\n  That's as far as it goes?\n\n  Sound about to go off on some real live\n  Wu shit, uh, huh\n  (WTC, Ghost-face)\n  Lemme give y'all the bullshit\n  For y'all niggas, check it out\n\n  The burners in the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden child's that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answer\n  'Cuz if I had a chance to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crack heads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the hoe ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dust-bones out\n  With star-writers like I fucked Celine Dion\n\n  Stuck everything that's the God's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang head-banger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow suede one matching hat with the gray gun\n\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all wore down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got no jury on\n  Bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n\n  Two of my silver-backs fun through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cognac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  Yo, one, two\n  Yo, Dirt McGirt, solid tone smith with fifth shots\n  Lick shots, leave your head like a Shaolin monk with six dots\n  Brooklyn, zoo, zoo\n  Brooklyn, zoo, zoo\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n\n  Diggler, a.k.a The Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the murder land\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevator we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy 'cuz she Lawless\n  She's exactly like that 10304 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n\n  From the East to the Ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skills\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  They hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n  We grindin', down to the bone my name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  160, my song, we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rock stars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't Ghost\n  It's no joke, iron coat, rifle with a scope\n  One toke, brains float, shot to the throat\n\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  Southern crime scene, body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he's still hella lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, 'cuz I have ta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the Island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed us 'cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off your Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss he the boss\n\n  Handcuffed to the turntables like Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain pearly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash\n"},{"id":9334878,"name":"9 Milli Bros","trackName":"9 Milli Bros","artistName":"Ghostface Killah","albumName":"Fishscale (Expanded Edition)","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"The burners in the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-tang got the answer\n'Cause if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the hoe ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen don, tapping dustbones out\nWith star writers like I fucked celine dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial wu-tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you didn't set an anchor\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the guess on with the best pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got no jewlery on\nBet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\nYo, 1, 2, Dirt Mcgirt!\nSolid tone smith with 5th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, zoo, zoo (yo)\nBrooklyn, zoo! (yo!)\nIt's the return of bin laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, aka the cab driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty island, drag bodies to the murder land\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy 'cause she lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the east to the ville, from the west to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nThey hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm mr. Violence we loungin' with chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose queens\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rife him with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, 'cause I hafta\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, 'cause you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash","syncedLyrics":"[00:38.02] The burners in the stash, we about the cash\n[00:40.34] We got females that got it like that\n[00:43.06] The golden childs that bone the crowd\n[00:45.16] See niggas in the place that bit my style\n[00:47.63] Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n[00:50.28] Wu-tang got the answer\n[00:52.52] 'Cause if I had a chance, to do it again\n[00:55.21] I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n[00:57.64] Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n[01:00.58] I shot one of my bitches, the hoe ain't trick enough\n[01:02.98] Word life to big screen don, tapping dustbones out\n[01:05.14] With star writers like I fucked celine dion\n[01:07.83] Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n[01:10.53] We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n[01:12.78] Official wu-tang headbanger\n[01:14.59] Flood your space with big waves like you didn't set an anchor\n[01:17.94] Yo, I drink heavy gallons of crew, play the big part\n[01:20.42] Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids clarks\n[01:22.93] Finesse notes, yo, the guess on with the best pose\n[01:25.21] Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n[01:27.80] Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n[01:30.64] We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n[01:32.90] Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got no jewlery on\n[01:36.17] Bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n[01:37.98] Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n[01:41.05] Front on react and sippin' cog-i-nac so relax dude\n[01:43.74] Know I'm with these cracks dude\n[01:45.05] Yo, 1, 2, Dirt Mcgirt!\n[01:47.70] Solid tone smith with 5th shots, lick shots\n[01:50.33] Leave your head like a shaolin monk with 6 dots\n[01:52.67] Brooklyn, zoo, zoo (yo)\n[01:55.00] Brooklyn, zoo! (yo!)\n[01:57.29] It's the return of bin laden, grab your armor\n[02:00.01] Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n[02:02.50] Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n[02:05.00] My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n[02:07.61] Diggler, aka the cab driver\n[02:09.94] Drop him off in the middle of fire\n[02:12.32] Dirty island, drag bodies to the murder land\n[02:14.47] Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n[02:17.21] I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n[02:19.77] Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n[02:22.49] Staten's where the war is\n[02:23.73] Where the court system's running out of warrants\n[02:25.39] Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n[02:27.39] For real I can't call it\n[02:29.05] You see I love Lucy 'cause she lawless\n[02:30.49] Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n[02:32.47] Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n[02:33.79] Already know the island I'm from\n[02:35.39] And y'all don't want no problems with them\n[02:37.17] We got a history, full of lightning victories\n[02:39.63] Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n[02:42.20] Long vision, from giants in every way\n[02:44.79] Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n[02:47.26] From the east to the ville, from the west to the hills\n[02:49.78] Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n[02:52.01] From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n[02:54.56] They hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n[02:57.00] MCs start fleeing in flocks\n[02:58.84] Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n[03:01.96] We grindin', down to the bone\n[03:04.03] My name grounded in stone\n[03:04.96] I'm mr. Violence we loungin' with chrome\n[03:06.87] Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n[03:09.96] Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n[03:12.03] Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n[03:15.02] 1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n[03:17.19] The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n[03:19.61] Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose queens\n[03:22.48] Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n[03:24.58] Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n[03:27.10] It's no joke iron coat rife him with the stroke\n[03:29.28] One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n[03:31.86] Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n[03:33.73] On the crime scene\n[03:34.76] Body on the block\n[03:35.66] Eyes open from the shock\n[03:36.91] Of being popped in the neck\n[03:38.03] Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n[03:40.75] Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n[03:43.26] Disaster, gotta blast ya, 'cause I hafta\n[03:46.90] The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n[03:49.26] Leave you cursed off, 'cause you worship the gat\n[03:52.08] The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n[03:54.41] Blow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss he the boss\n[03:57.01] Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n[03:59.65] See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n[04:01.78] Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n[04:04.45] You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n[04:07.00] That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros\n  artist: Ghostface Killah\n  album: Fishscale (Expanded Edition)\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: The burners in the stash, we about the cash\n  start_ms: 38020\n  end_ms: 40340\n- text: We got females that got it like that\n  start_ms: 40340\n  end_ms: 43060\n- text: The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  start_ms: 43060\n  end_ms: 45160\n- text: See niggas in the place that bit my style\n  start_ms: 45160\n  end_ms: 47630\n- text: Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  start_ms: 47630\n  end_ms: 50280\n- text: Wu-tang got the answer\n  start_ms: 50280\n  end_ms: 52520\n- text: '''Cause if I had a chance, to do it again'\n  start_ms: 52520\n  end_ms: 55210\n- text: I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n  start_ms: 55210\n  end_ms: 57640\n- text: Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  start_ms: 57640\n  end_ms: 60580\n- text: I shot one of my bitches, the hoe ain't trick enough\n  start_ms: 60580\n  end_ms: 62980\n- text: Word life to big screen don, tapping dustbones out\n  start_ms: 62980\n  end_ms: 65140\n- text: With star writers like I fucked celine dion\n  start_ms: 65140\n  end_ms: 67830\n- text: Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  start_ms: 67830\n  end_ms: 70530\n- text: We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  start_ms: 70530\n  end_ms: 72780\n- text: Official wu-tang headbanger\n  start_ms: 72780\n  end_ms: 74590\n- text: Flood your space with big waves like you didn't set an anchor\n  start_ms: 74590\n  end_ms: 77940\n- text: Yo, I drink heavy gallons of crew, play the big part\n  start_ms: 77940\n  end_ms: 80420\n- text: Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids clarks\n  start_ms: 80420\n  end_ms: 82930\n- text: Finesse notes, yo, the guess on with the best pose\n  start_ms: 82930\n  end_ms: 85210\n- text: Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  start_ms: 85210\n  end_ms: 87800\n- text: Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  start_ms: 87800\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 92900\n- text: Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got no jewlery on\n  start_ms: 92900\n  end_ms: 96170\n- text: Bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  start_ms: 96170\n  end_ms: 97980\n- text: Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  start_ms: 97980\n  end_ms: 101050\n- text: Front on react and sippin' cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  start_ms: 101050\n  end_ms: 103740\n- text: Know I'm with these cracks dude\n  start_ms: 103740\n  end_ms: 105050\n- text: Yo, 1, 2, Dirt Mcgirt!\n  start_ms: 105050\n  end_ms: 107700\n- text: Solid tone smith with 5th shots, lick shots\n  start_ms: 107700\n  end_ms: 110330\n- text: Leave your head like a shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  start_ms: 110330\n  end_ms: 112670\n- text: Brooklyn, zoo, zoo (yo)\n  start_ms: 112670\n  end_ms: 115000\n- text: Brooklyn, zoo! (yo!)\n  start_ms: 115000\n  end_ms: 117290\n- text: It's the return of bin laden, grab your armor\n  start_ms: 117290\n  end_ms: 120010\n- text: Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  start_ms: 120010\n  end_ms: 122500\n- text: Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  start_ms: 122500\n  end_ms: 125000\n- text: My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  start_ms: 125000\n  end_ms: 127610\n- text: Diggler, aka the cab driver\n  start_ms: 127610\n  end_ms: 129940\n- text: Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  start_ms: 129940\n  end_ms: 132320\n- text: Dirty island, drag bodies to the murder land\n  start_ms: 132320\n  end_ms: 134470\n- text: Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n  start_ms: 134470\n  end_ms: 137210\n- text: I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  start_ms: 137210\n  end_ms: 139770\n- text: Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  start_ms: 139770\n  end_ms: 142490\n- text: Staten's where the war is\n  start_ms: 142490\n  end_ms: 143730\n- text: Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  start_ms: 143730\n  end_ms: 145390\n- text: Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  start_ms: 145390\n  end_ms: 147390\n- text: For real I can't call it\n  start_ms: 147390\n  end_ms: 149050\n- text: You see I love Lucy 'cause she lawless\n  start_ms: 149050\n  end_ms: 150490\n- text: Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  start_ms: 150490\n  end_ms: 152470\n- text: Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  start_ms: 152470\n  end_ms: 153790\n- text: Already know the island I'm from\n  start_ms: 153790\n  end_ms: 155390\n- text: And y'all don't want no problems with them\n  start_ms: 155390\n  end_ms: 157170\n- text: We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  start_ms: 157170\n  end_ms: 159630\n- text: Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  start_ms: 159630\n  end_ms: 162200\n- text: Long vision, from giants in every way\n  start_ms: 162200\n  end_ms: 164790\n- text: Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  start_ms: 164790\n  end_ms: 167260\n- text: From the east to the ville, from the west to the hills\n  start_ms: 167260\n  end_ms: 169780\n- text: Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  start_ms: 169780\n  end_ms: 172010\n- text: From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  start_ms: 172010\n  end_ms: 174560\n- text: They hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  start_ms: 174560\n  end_ms: 177000\n- text: MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  start_ms: 177000\n  end_ms: 178840\n- text: Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n  start_ms: 178840\n  end_ms: 181960\n- text: We grindin', down to the bone\n  start_ms: 181960\n  end_ms: 184030\n- text: My name grounded in stone\n  start_ms: 184030\n  end_ms: 184960\n- text: I'm mr. Violence we loungin' with chrome\n  start_ms: 184960\n  end_ms: 186870\n- text: Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  start_ms: 186870\n  end_ms: 189960\n- text: Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  start_ms: 189960\n  end_ms: 192030\n- text: Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  start_ms: 192030\n  end_ms: 195020\n- text: 1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  start_ms: 195020\n  end_ms: 197190\n- text: The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  start_ms: 197190\n  end_ms: 199610\n- text: Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose queens\n  start_ms: 199610\n  end_ms: 202480\n- text: Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  start_ms: 202480\n  end_ms: 204580\n- text: Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  start_ms: 204580\n  end_ms: 207100\n- text: It's no joke iron coat rife him with the stroke\n  start_ms: 207100\n  end_ms: 209280\n- text: One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  start_ms: 209280\n  end_ms: 211860\n- text: Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  start_ms: 211860\n  end_ms: 213730\n- text: On the crime scene\n  start_ms: 213730\n  end_ms: 214760\n- text: Body on the block\n  start_ms: 214760\n  end_ms: 215660\n- text: Eyes open from the shock\n  start_ms: 215660\n  end_ms: 216910\n- text: Of being popped in the neck\n  start_ms: 216910\n  end_ms: 218030\n- text: Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  start_ms: 218030\n  end_ms: 220750\n- text: Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  start_ms: 220750\n  end_ms: 223260\n- text: Disaster, gotta blast ya, 'cause I hafta\n  start_ms: 223260\n  end_ms: 226900\n- text: The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  start_ms: 226900\n  end_ms: 229260\n- text: Leave you cursed off, 'cause you worship the gat\n  start_ms: 229260\n  end_ms: 232080\n- text: The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  start_ms: 232080\n  end_ms: 234410\n- text: Blow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss he the boss\n  start_ms: 234410\n  end_ms: 237010\n- text: Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  start_ms: 237010\n  end_ms: 239650\n- text: See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  start_ms: 239650\n  end_ms: 241780\n- text: Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  start_ms: 241780\n  end_ms: 244450\n- text: You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  start_ms: 244450\n  end_ms: 247000\n- text: That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash\n  start_ms: 247000\nplain: |-\n  The burners in the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-tang got the answer\n  'Cause if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the hoe ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen don, tapping dustbones out\n  With star writers like I fucked celine dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official wu-tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you didn't set an anchor\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the guess on with the best pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got no jewlery on\n  Bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n  Yo, 1, 2, Dirt Mcgirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 5th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, zoo, zoo (yo)\n  Brooklyn, zoo! (yo!)\n  It's the return of bin laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, aka the cab driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty island, drag bodies to the murder land\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy 'cause she lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the east to the ville, from the west to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  They hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm mr. Violence we loungin' with chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose queens\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rife him with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, 'cause I hafta\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, 'cause you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash\n"},{"id":9334879,"name":"9 Milli Bros","trackName":"9 Milli Bros","artistName":"Ghostface Killah","albumName":"GhostDeini The Great (Bonus Tracks)","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros\n  artist: Ghostface Killah\n  album: GhostDeini The Great (Bonus Tracks)\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":24908780,"name":"9 Milli Bros.","trackName":"9 Milli Bros.","artistName":"Ghostface Killah","albumName":"Fishscale","duration":249.306667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bob Digi, U-G-O-D, Raekwon\nThe Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM-E-T-H-O-D the B-O-B-B\n(The Man)\n\nStraight up, Masta Killa, the GZA\nThe Genius, it's the Ol' D-d-dirty Bastard\nOne, two, one, two\n(Killer Beats)\nTurn it up, turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up\n\nYo, you hear me?\n(Yeah, whut up Toney?)\nW'sup Don' Don'\n(All the way up)\nYou know how we do\n(Let's get this paper together)\nYou motherfuckin' right Pa, uh, huh\n(That's right, c'mon nigga)\nThat's as far as it goes?\n\nSound about to go off on some real live\nWu shit, uh, huh\n(WTC, Ghost-face)\nLemme give y'all the bullshit\nFor y'all niggas, check it out\n\nThe burners in the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden child's that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answer\n'Cuz if I had a chance to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crack heads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the hoe ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dust-bones out\nWith star-writers like I fucked Celine Dion\n\nStuck everything that's the God's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang head-banger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow suede one matching hat with the gray gun\n\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all wore down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got no jury on\nBet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n\nTwo of my silver-backs fun through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cognac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\nYo, one, two\nYo, Dirt McGirt, solid tone smith with fifth shots\nLick shots, leave your head like a Shaolin monk with six dots\nBrooklyn, zoo, zoo\nBrooklyn, zoo, zoo\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\n\nDiggler, a.k.a The Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the murder land\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevator we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy 'cuz she Lawless\nShe's exactly like that 10304 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n\nFrom the East to the Ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skills\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nThey hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\nWe grindin', down to the bone my name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\n\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n160, my song, we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rock stars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't Ghost\nIt's no joke, iron coat, rifle with a scope\nOne toke, brains float, shot to the throat\n\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nSouthern crime scene, body on the block\nEyes open from the shock of being popped in the neck\nYet he's still hella lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, 'cuz I have ta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the Island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed us 'cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off your Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss he the boss\n\nHandcuffed to the turntables like Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain pearly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros.\n  artist: Ghostface Killah\n  album: Fishscale\n  duration_ms: 249307\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bob Digi, U-G-O-D, Raekwon\n  The Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M-E-T-H-O-D the B-O-B-B\n  (The Man)\n\n  Straight up, Masta Killa, the GZA\n  The Genius, it's the Ol' D-d-dirty Bastard\n  One, two, one, two\n  (Killer Beats)\n  Turn it up, turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up\n\n  Yo, you hear me?\n  (Yeah, whut up Toney?)\n  W'sup Don' Don'\n  (All the way up)\n  You know how we do\n  (Let's get this paper together)\n  You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh, huh\n  (That's right, c'mon nigga)\n  That's as far as it goes?\n\n  Sound about to go off on some real live\n  Wu shit, uh, huh\n  (WTC, Ghost-face)\n  Lemme give y'all the bullshit\n  For y'all niggas, check it out\n\n  The burners in the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden child's that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answer\n  'Cuz if I had a chance to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crack heads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the hoe ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dust-bones out\n  With star-writers like I fucked Celine Dion\n\n  Stuck everything that's the God's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang head-banger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow suede one matching hat with the gray gun\n\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all wore down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got no jury on\n  Bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n\n  Two of my silver-backs fun through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cognac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  Yo, one, two\n  Yo, Dirt McGirt, solid tone smith with fifth shots\n  Lick shots, leave your head like a Shaolin monk with six dots\n  Brooklyn, zoo, zoo\n  Brooklyn, zoo, zoo\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n\n  Diggler, a.k.a The Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the murder land\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevator we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy 'cuz she Lawless\n  She's exactly like that 10304 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n\n  From the East to the Ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skills\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  They hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n  We grindin', down to the bone my name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  160, my song, we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rock stars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't Ghost\n  It's no joke, iron coat, rifle with a scope\n  One toke, brains float, shot to the throat\n\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  Southern crime scene, body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he's still hella lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, 'cuz I have ta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the Island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed us 'cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off your Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss he the boss\n\n  Handcuffed to the turntables like Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain pearly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash\n"},{"id":7273774,"name":"9 Milli Bros","trackName":"9 Milli Bros","artistName":"Ghostface Killah;Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Fishscale (Expanded Edition)","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros\n  artist: Ghostface Killah;Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Fishscale (Expanded Edition)\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":35393079,"name":"9 Milli Bros","trackName":"9 Milli Bros","artistName":"Ghostface Killah, Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Fishscale","duration":250.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros\n  artist: Ghostface Killah, Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Fishscale\n  duration_ms: 250000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":35393073,"name":"9 Milli Bros","trackName":"9 Milli Bros","artistName":"Ghostface Killah, Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Fishscale","duration":254.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros\n  artist: Ghostface Killah, Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Fishscale\n  duration_ms: 254000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":25385134,"name":"9 Milli Bros","trackName":"9 Milli Bros","artistName":"Ghostface Killah; Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Hip Hop Workout","duration":254.64,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros\n  artist: Ghostface Killah; Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Hip Hop Workout\n  duration_ms: 254640\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":38345016,"name":"9 Milli Bros","trackName":"9 Milli Bros","artistName":"Ghostface Killah/Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"GhostDeini The Great (Parental Advisory)","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros\n  artist: Ghostface Killah/Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: GhostDeini The Great (Parental Advisory)\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":8308544,"name":"9 Milli Bros.","trackName":"9 Milli Bros.","artistName":"Ghostface Killah feat. Wu Tang Clan","albumName":"Fishscale","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros.\n  artist: Ghostface Killah feat. Wu Tang Clan\n  album: Fishscale\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":3677682,"name":"9 Milli Bros","trackName":"9 Milli Bros","artistName":"Ghostface Killah feat. Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Fishscale (Expanded Edition)","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros\n  artist: Ghostface Killah feat. Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Fishscale (Expanded Edition)\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":2182009,"name":"9 Milli Bros","trackName":"9 Milli Bros","artistName":"Ghostface Killah feat. Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"Fishscale (Bonus Track)","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros\n  artist: Ghostface Killah feat. Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: Fishscale (Bonus Track)\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":11319860,"name":"9 Milli Bros.","trackName":"9 Milli Bros.","artistName":"Ghostface Killah feat. Wu‐Tang Clan","albumName":"GhostDeini the Great","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros.\n  artist: Ghostface Killah feat. Wu‐Tang Clan\n  album: GhostDeini the Great\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":10098273,"name":"9 Milli Bros.","trackName":"9 Milli Bros.","artistName":"Ghostface Killah feat. Wu‐Tang Clan","albumName":"Fishscale","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros.\n  artist: Ghostface Killah feat. Wu‐Tang Clan\n  album: Fishscale\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":28815376,"name":"9 Milli Bros.","trackName":"9 Milli Bros.","artistName":"Ghostface Killah feat. Wu-Tang Clan","albumName":"GhostDeini the Great","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros.\n  artist: Ghostface Killah feat. Wu-Tang Clan\n  album: GhostDeini the Great\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":38528934,"name":"9 Milli Bros (Album Version (Explicit))","trackName":"9 Milli Bros (Album Version (Explicit))","artistName":"Ghostface Killah","albumName":"GhostDeini The Great","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bob Digi, U-G-O-D, Raekwon the Chef\nThe Inspectah Deck, M-E-T-H-O-D, the B-O-B-B\nStraight up, Masta Killa, the GZA, the genius\nIt's the Ol' D-D-D, D-D-D, D-D-Dirty Bastard\nOne-two, one-two, turn it up, the headphones\nKilla Beez\nTurn it up, yo, you hear me?\nYeah, what up, Tony?\nWhat's up, Don-Don?\nAll the way up\nYou know how we do\nLet's get this paper together\nThat's all it goes\nMotherfucker, what's up, yo?\nUh-huh\nCome on, let's do it, nigga\nYou know how I like it\nShawty 'bout to go in on some real Wu shit\nYeah, huh, uh-huh\nW-T-C\nThat's right, you know what I mean?\nGhostface Killah, Killah, Killah\n\nThe gun is in the stash, we bout the cash\nWe got females that got it like that, the golden childs\nThat own the crowd, seen niggas in the place that bit my style\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answer, cause if I had a chance\nTo do it again, I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life, the big screen don, tapping dust bones out\nWith star writers like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the God's on, it's beyond\nWe airing niggas out, that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nAyo, yo, I drink heavy gallons of Cru, play the big park\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids' cloth\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess I'm with the best post\nYellow suede one, matching hat with the gray gun\nNiggas be rhyming for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all war down, y'all broke niggas stay fronting\nLines come digital, stupid, plus ain't got no jewelry on\nBet I'm still live and I'm couping\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on you, yack, you sipping cognac\nBlue 'Lacs do, knowing what these cracks do\n\nOne-two, one-two, yo, dirt for dirt\nSolid tone Smith with six shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a shalimar with six dots\nBrooklyn Zu, Zu, Brooklyn Zu, Zu\n\nYo, it's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the barge\nDiggala, AKA the cab driver\nDrop 'em off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the murder land\nKnock niggas out, hurting my hand\n\nI remember in the elevator, we was playing corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is staying on us\nStaten's where the raw is, where the\nCourt system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus, for real, I can't call it\nYou see, I love Lucy cause she flawless\nExactly like that one in 304 is\nSnitch nigga, swallow your tongue, already know the Island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problem with them\n\nWe got a mystery, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough, it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the 'Ville, from the West to the Hills\nIncredible rhymes, courage and skills\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with the effortless performance\nMC's start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grinding, down to the bone, my name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Foulness, we lounging with chrome\nMr. Foulness, we lounging, it's home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with bones, got a Jones for dinero\nOne-six-zero my zone, we throwing elbows\nThe hoes cling, chokin', we known kings\nOnly dime types, with minds right, we chose Queens\n\nYeah, we wild like rock stars who smash guitars\nYo, son, split his face with the toast, he ain't Ghost\nIt's no joke, iron coat, rifle with the scope\nOne toke, brain float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing, chilling crime scene\nBody on the block, eyes open from\nThe shock of being popped in the neck\nYet he still hella lit, cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you stepping in the chamber with the Masta\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cause I have to\n\nThe Rat Pack is back from the Island of Stat'\nYeah, you cursed us, cause we worship the gat\nThe first one to snap, drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss, he the boss\nHandcuffed to the turntables like Wizard Theodor'\nSee, it's pure, let it rain, curly ounces\nBang 'em with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros (Album Version (Explicit))\n  artist: Ghostface Killah\n  album: GhostDeini The Great\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bob Digi, U-G-O-D, Raekwon the Chef\n  The Inspectah Deck, M-E-T-H-O-D, the B-O-B-B\n  Straight up, Masta Killa, the GZA, the genius\n  It's the Ol' D-D-D, D-D-D, D-D-Dirty Bastard\n  One-two, one-two, turn it up, the headphones\n  Killa Beez\n  Turn it up, yo, you hear me?\n  Yeah, what up, Tony?\n  What's up, Don-Don?\n  All the way up\n  You know how we do\n  Let's get this paper together\n  That's all it goes\n  Motherfucker, what's up, yo?\n  Uh-huh\n  Come on, let's do it, nigga\n  You know how I like it\n  Shawty 'bout to go in on some real Wu shit\n  Yeah, huh, uh-huh\n  W-T-C\n  That's right, you know what I mean?\n  Ghostface Killah, Killah, Killah\n\n  The gun is in the stash, we bout the cash\n  We got females that got it like that, the golden childs\n  That own the crowd, seen niggas in the place that bit my style\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answer, cause if I had a chance\n  To do it again, I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life, the big screen don, tapping dust bones out\n  With star writers like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the God's on, it's beyond\n  We airing niggas out, that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Ayo, yo, I drink heavy gallons of Cru, play the big park\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids' cloth\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess I'm with the best post\n  Yellow suede one, matching hat with the gray gun\n  Niggas be rhyming for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all war down, y'all broke niggas stay fronting\n  Lines come digital, stupid, plus ain't got no jewelry on\n  Bet I'm still live and I'm couping\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on you, yack, you sipping cognac\n  Blue 'Lacs do, knowing what these cracks do\n\n  One-two, one-two, yo, dirt for dirt\n  Solid tone Smith with six shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a shalimar with six dots\n  Brooklyn Zu, Zu, Brooklyn Zu, Zu\n\n  Yo, it's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the barge\n  Diggala, AKA the cab driver\n  Drop 'em off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the murder land\n  Knock niggas out, hurting my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevator, we was playing corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is staying on us\n  Staten's where the raw is, where the\n  Court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus, for real, I can't call it\n  You see, I love Lucy cause she flawless\n  Exactly like that one in 304 is\n  Snitch nigga, swallow your tongue, already know the Island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problem with them\n\n  We got a mystery, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough, it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the 'Ville, from the West to the Hills\n  Incredible rhymes, courage and skills\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with the effortless performance\n  MC's start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grinding, down to the bone, my name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Foulness, we lounging with chrome\n  Mr. Foulness, we lounging, it's home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with bones, got a Jones for dinero\n  One-six-zero my zone, we throwing elbows\n  The hoes cling, chokin', we known kings\n  Only dime types, with minds right, we chose Queens\n\n  Yeah, we wild like rock stars who smash guitars\n  Yo, son, split his face with the toast, he ain't Ghost\n  It's no joke, iron coat, rifle with the scope\n  One toke, brain float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing, chilling crime scene\n  Body on the block, eyes open from\n  The shock of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still hella lit, cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you stepping in the chamber with the Masta\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cause I have to\n\n  The Rat Pack is back from the Island of Stat'\n  Yeah, you cursed us, cause we worship the gat\n  The first one to snap, drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss, he the boss\n  Handcuffed to the turntables like Wizard Theodor'\n  See, it's pure, let it rain, curly ounces\n  Bang 'em with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash\n"},{"id":3677683,"name":"9 Milli Bros (feat. Wu-Tang Clan)","trackName":"9 Milli Bros (feat. Wu-Tang Clan)","artistName":"Ghostface Killah","albumName":"Fishscale","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros (feat. Wu-Tang Clan)\n  artist: Ghostface Killah\n  album: Fishscale\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":6252804,"name":"9 Milli Bros (feat. Wu-Tang Clan)","trackName":"9 Milli Bros (feat. Wu-Tang Clan)","artistName":"Ghostface Killah","albumName":"GhostDeini the Great","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros (feat. Wu-Tang Clan)\n  artist: Ghostface Killah\n  album: GhostDeini the Great\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"},{"id":2182010,"name":"9 Milli Bros. (feat. Wu‐Tang Clan)","trackName":"9 Milli Bros. (feat. Wu‐Tang Clan)","artistName":"Ghostface Killah","albumName":"Fishscale","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\nM.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\nIt's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\nThe headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n[Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n[Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n[ODB] All the way up.\n[Ghost] You know how we do.\n[Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n[Cappa] What's up, y'all\n[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n[ODB] You know how I do\n[Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n[Cappa] W-T-C\n[Ghost] That's right\n[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n[RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\nCheck it out...\n\nThe burners and the stash, we about the cash\nWe got females that got it like that\nThe golden childs that bone the crowd\nSee niggas in the place that bit my style\n\nWell I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\nWu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\nCuz if I had a chance, to do it again\nI will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\nY'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\nI shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\nWord life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\nWith starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\nStuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\nWe airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\nOfficial Wu-Tang headbanger\nFlood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\nYo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\nNiggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\nFinesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\nYellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\nNiggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\nWe all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\nLines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\nNo jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\nTwo of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\nFront on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\nKnow I'm with these cracks dude\n\n[ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\nSolid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\nLeave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\nBrooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\nBrooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\nIt's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\nSmash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\nEat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\nMy whole crew's fresh out the bars\nDiggler, AKA the Cab Driver\nDrop him off in the middle of fire\nDirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\nKnock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\nI remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\nNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\nStaten's where the war is\nWhere the court system's running out of warrants\nWhere TNT be jumping out the Taurus\nFor real I can't call it\nYou see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\nExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\nSnitch niggas swallow your tongue\nAlready know the island I'm from\nAnd y'all don't want no problems with them\n\nWe got a history, full of lightning victories\nConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\nLong vision, from giants in every way\nRap czars, magnificent flows for every day\nFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\nIncredible rhymes, encouraging skill\nFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\nWe hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\nMCs start fleeing in flocks\nEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\nWe grindin', down to the bone\nMy name grounded in stone\nI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\nMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\nShining like a hundred thousand in stones\nMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\nThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\nOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\nYeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\nYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\nIt's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\nOne toke brains float, shot to the throat\nBefore the smoke hit, witness the killing\nOn the crime scene\nBody on the block\nEyes open from the shock\nOf being popped in the neck\nYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\nDanger when you step into the chamber with the master\nDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\nThe rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\nLeave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\nThe first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\nBlow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\nHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\nSee it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\nBang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\nYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\nThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n{*gunshot*}","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9 Milli Bros. (feat. Wu‐Tang Clan)\n  artist: Ghostface Killah\n  album: Fishscale\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (RZA) Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck\n  M.E.T.H.O.D. (Man), the B.O.B.B., straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius.\n  It's the Ol' D-d-dza-za-za Diiiirty Bastard! (music starts)\n\n  [ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up\n  The headphones, turn it up. yo you hear me?\n  [Cappa] Whuttup Toney?\n  [Ghost] Wassup don' don'.\n  [ODB] All the way up.\n  [Ghost] You know how we do.\n  [Cappa] Let's get this paper together.\n  [Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh\n  [Cappa] What's up, y'all\n  [Ghost] We wanna do it nigga\n  [ODB] You know how I do\n  [Ghost] Sound about to goin' on some real Wu-shit, uh huh\n  [Cappa] W-T-C\n  [Ghost] That's right\n  [Ghost] Ya know what I mean?\n  [RZA] Ghost-FACE KILLAH!\n  [Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas\n  Check it out...\n\n  The burners and the stash, we about the cash\n  We got females that got it like that\n  The golden childs that bone the crowd\n  See niggas in the place that bit my style\n\n  Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers\n  Wu-Tang got the answerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr...\n  Cuz if I had a chance, to do it again\n  I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh\n\n  Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up\n  I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough\n  Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out\n  With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion\n  Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond\n  We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on\n  Official Wu-Tang headbanger\n  Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka\n\n  Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part\n  Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks\n  Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose\n  Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun\n  Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up\n  We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'\n  Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got\n  No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'\n  Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves\n  Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude\n  Know I'm with these cracks dude\n\n  [ODB] Yo, 1, 2... Dirt McGirt!\n  Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots\n  Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots\n  Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo (Yo)\n  Brooooklynnnnnnn... ZOO! (Yo!)\n\n  It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor\n  Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma\n  Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage\n  My whole crew's fresh out the bars\n  Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver\n  Drop him off in the middle of fire\n  Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland\n  Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand\n\n  I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners\n  Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)\n  Staten's where the war is\n  Where the court system's running out of warrants\n  Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus\n  For real I can't call it\n  You see I love Lucy cuz she Lawless\n  Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is\n  Snitch niggas swallow your tongue\n  Already know the island I'm from\n  And y'all don't want no problems with them\n\n  We got a history, full of lightning victories\n  Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery\n  Long vision, from giants in every way\n  Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day\n  From the East to the ville, from the West to the hills\n  Incredible rhymes, encouraging skill\n  From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous\n  We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance\n  MCs start fleeing in flocks\n  Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock\n\n  We grindin', down to the bone\n  My name grounded in stone\n  I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome\n  Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome\n  Shining like a hundred thousand in stones\n  Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero\n  1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows\n  The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings\n  Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens\n\n  Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars\n  Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost\n  It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke\n  One toke brains float, shot to the throat\n  Before the smoke hit, witness the killing\n  On the crime scene\n  Body on the block\n  Eyes open from the shock\n  Of being popped in the neck\n  Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers\n  Danger when you step into the chamber with the master\n  Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta\n\n  The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'\n  Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat\n  The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff\n  Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss\n  Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore\n  See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces\n  Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers\n  You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast\n  That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash.)\n\n  {*gunshot*}\n"}]