[{"id":10577012,"name":"Buckingham Palace","trackName":"Buckingham Palace","artistName":"Ghostface Killah ft. KXNG Crooked, Benny the Butcher & 38 Spesh","albumName":"The Single Vol 1","duration":196.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hunnid Gs\nBone crusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\nLong dickin' chicks like my rap's longevity\nColder than a glass of ice cubes\nI got 'em all in bad moods\n[?] shoes, I never move\nI don't give a fuck about how you feelin'\nGot the roof on fire, [?] to the ceilin'\nSexual healin', [?] on that Marvin Gay shit\nGot two Blackberrys [?] that'll melt your facelift\nMemory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\nMy clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\nWe kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\nWe bounce off of motors like westcoast hydraulics\nNarcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\nRight near the mask, and the wig, and the fake dreadlocks\nBombaklat, box of ammo in the pocket\nIt's all for the gangstas, your eyes hangin' out your sockets\n\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\nHey yo\nI got a problem with authority\nLawyers handle problems accordingly\nThey actin' like they pops wasn't callin' me\nI gotta make sure my corner eat\nOver the stove pot linked to the side like I'm pourin' tea\nBlack man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\nEither you a hustler or a thief\nAll I needed was a quarter key\nIn the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\nSold it hot but I bought it cheap\nGotta [?] Miami back to P.A. like Ross and Meek\nHuh, borrow your bitch for a week\nShe hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\nYou talk slick but can't afford to be\nAnd we don't call it beef until I'm\nsendin' hits where you daughters be\nStep on work with foreign sneaks\nEverything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\nYeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop!\nThe nozzle is the nostrel of the Roscoe, pop pop!\nPossibly I'm comin' across as hostile\nYou could be double crossed by your Apostle\nThat's the Pentecostal gospel\nBlack C.O.D. flag hangin' out the left side\nBlowin' in the atmopshere, the atlas here is westside\nRan up in the stash spot when I heard my connect died\nHis wife is Columbian, got Columbian neck tied\nI went from roaches in the cereal to\nflowin' the most ferocious in your stereo\nBut culture vultures don't hear me though\nHotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\nWhy bitches our here with a burnin' bush like the Moses miracle\nWhy the fuck would I touch a THOT with some gonorrhea?\nI give her the hammer, I call it a blamma\nThat's onamonapia, go look it up\nYou don't read books enough\nThat's why Crooked's up in your mamma mia\nI'mma G, nigga","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Buckingham Palace\n  artist: Ghostface Killah ft. KXNG Crooked, Benny the Butcher & 38 Spesh\n  album: The Single Vol 1\n  duration_ms: 196000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Hunnid Gs\n  Bone crusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\n  Long dickin' chicks like my rap's longevity\n  Colder than a glass of ice cubes\n  I got 'em all in bad moods\n  [?] shoes, I never move\n  I don't give a fuck about how you feelin'\n  Got the roof on fire, [?] to the ceilin'\n  Sexual healin', [?] on that Marvin Gay shit\n  Got two Blackberrys [?] that'll melt your facelift\n  Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\n  My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\n  We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\n  We bounce off of motors like westcoast hydraulics\n  Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\n  Right near the mask, and the wig, and the fake dreadlocks\n  Bombaklat, box of ammo in the pocket\n  It's all for the gangstas, your eyes hangin' out your sockets\n\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\n  Hey yo\n  I got a problem with authority\n  Lawyers handle problems accordingly\n  They actin' like they pops wasn't callin' me\n  I gotta make sure my corner eat\n  Over the stove pot linked to the side like I'm pourin' tea\n  Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\n  Either you a hustler or a thief\n  All I needed was a quarter key\n  In the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n  Sold it hot but I bought it cheap\n  Gotta [?] Miami back to P.A. like Ross and Meek\n  Huh, borrow your bitch for a week\n  She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\n  You talk slick but can't afford to be\n  And we don't call it beef until I'm\n  sendin' hits where you daughters be\n  Step on work with foreign sneaks\n  Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\n  Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop!\n  The nozzle is the nostrel of the Roscoe, pop pop!\n  Possibly I'm comin' across as hostile\n  You could be double crossed by your Apostle\n  That's the Pentecostal gospel\n  Black C.O.D. flag hangin' out the left side\n  Blowin' in the atmopshere, the atlas here is westside\n  Ran up in the stash spot when I heard my connect died\n  His wife is Columbian, got Columbian neck tied\n  I went from roaches in the cereal to\n  flowin' the most ferocious in your stereo\n  But culture vultures don't hear me though\n  Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\n  Why bitches our here with a burnin' bush like the Moses miracle\n  Why the fuck would I touch a THOT with some gonorrhea?\n  I give her the hammer, I call it a blamma\n  That's onamonapia, go look it up\n  You don't read books enough\n  That's why Crooked's up in your mamma mia\n  I'mma G, nigga\n"},{"id":35462836,"name":"Buckingham Palace","trackName":"Buckingham Palace","artistName":"Ghostface Killah feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny the Butcher & Justin Harrell","albumName":"Ghost Files: Bronze Tape","duration":244.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\nLong dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\nCoca in a glass of ice cubes\nI got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\nI don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\nGot the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\nSexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\nGot two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\nMemory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\nMy clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\nWe kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\nWe bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\nNarcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\nRight near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\nBumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\nIt's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\nWatch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\nShooters, ruthless, all types of killers\nHunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\nBox cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\nAyo, I got a problem with authority\nLawyers handle problems accordingly\nThey acting like the pops wasn't calling me\nI gotta make sure my corner eat\nOver the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\nBlack man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\nEither you a hustler or a thief\nAll I needed was a quarter ki\nIn the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\nSold it hot but I bought it cheap\nGot it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\nHuh, buy your bitch for a week\nShe hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\nYou talk slick but can't afford to beef\nAnd we don't call it beef until I'm\nSending hits where your daughters be\n\nStep on work with foreign sneaks\nEverything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\nYeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\nThe nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\nPossibly I'm coming across as hostile\nYou can be double crossed by your\nApostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\nBlack COB flag hanging out the left side\nBlowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\nRan up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\nHis wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\nI went from roaches in the cereal\nTo flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\nBut culture vultures don't hear me though\nHotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\nWhile bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\nWhy the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\nI give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\nGo look it up, you don't read books enough\nThat's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Buckingham Palace\n  artist: Ghostface Killah feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny the Butcher & Justin Harrell\n  album: 'Ghost Files: Bronze Tape'\n  duration_ms: 244000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\n  Long dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\n  Coca in a glass of ice cubes\n  I got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\n  I don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\n  Got the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\n  Sexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\n  Got two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\n  Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\n  My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\n  We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\n  We bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\n  Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\n  Right near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\n  Bumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\n  It's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\n  Watch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\n  Shooters, ruthless, all types of killers\n  Hunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\n  Box cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\n  Ayo, I got a problem with authority\n  Lawyers handle problems accordingly\n  They acting like the pops wasn't calling me\n  I gotta make sure my corner eat\n  Over the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\n  Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\n  Either you a hustler or a thief\n  All I needed was a quarter ki\n  In the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\n  Sold it hot but I bought it cheap\n  Got it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\n  Huh, buy your bitch for a week\n  She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\n  You talk slick but can't afford to beef\n  And we don't call it beef until I'm\n  Sending hits where your daughters be\n\n  Step on work with foreign sneaks\n  Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\n  Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\n  The nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\n  Possibly I'm coming across as hostile\n  You can be double crossed by your\n  Apostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\n  Black COB flag hanging out the left side\n  Blowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\n  Ran up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\n  His wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\n  I went from roaches in the cereal\n  To flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\n  But culture vultures don't hear me though\n  Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\n  While bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\n  Why the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\n  I give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\n  Go look it up, you don't read books enough\n  That's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga\n"},{"id":26051189,"name":"Buckingham Palace","trackName":"Buckingham Palace","artistName":"Ghostface Killah feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny the Butcher & Justin Harrell","albumName":"The Lost Tapes","duration":196.44,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\nLong dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\nCoca in a glass of ice cubes\nI got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\nI don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\nGot the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\nSexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\nGot two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\nMemory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\nMy clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\nWe kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\nWe bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\nNarcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\nRight near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\nBumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\nIt's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\nWatch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\nShooters, ruthless, all types of killers\nHunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\nBox cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\nAyo, I got a problem with authority\nLawyers handle problems accordingly\nThey acting like the pops wasn't calling me\nI gotta make sure my corner eat\nOver the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\nBlack man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\nEither you a hustler or a thief\nAll I needed was a quarter ki\nIn the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\nSold it hot but I bought it cheap\nGot it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\nHuh, buy your bitch for a week\nShe hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\nYou talk slick but can't afford to beef\nAnd we don't call it beef until I'm\nSending hits where your daughters be\n\nStep on work with foreign sneaks\nEverything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\nYeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\nThe nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\nPossibly I'm coming across as hostile\nYou can be double crossed by your\nApostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\nBlack COB flag hanging out the left side\nBlowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\nRan up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\nHis wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\nI went from roaches in the cereal\nTo flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\nBut culture vultures don't hear me though\nHotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\nWhile bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\nWhy the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\nI give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\nGo look it up, you don't read books enough\nThat's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Buckingham Palace\n  artist: Ghostface Killah feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny the Butcher & Justin Harrell\n  album: The Lost Tapes\n  duration_ms: 196440\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\n  Long dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\n  Coca in a glass of ice cubes\n  I got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\n  I don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\n  Got the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\n  Sexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\n  Got two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\n  Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\n  My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\n  We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\n  We bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\n  Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\n  Right near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\n  Bumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\n  It's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\n  Watch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\n  Shooters, ruthless, all types of killers\n  Hunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\n  Box cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\n  Ayo, I got a problem with authority\n  Lawyers handle problems accordingly\n  They acting like the pops wasn't calling me\n  I gotta make sure my corner eat\n  Over the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\n  Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\n  Either you a hustler or a thief\n  All I needed was a quarter ki\n  In the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\n  Sold it hot but I bought it cheap\n  Got it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\n  Huh, buy your bitch for a week\n  She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\n  You talk slick but can't afford to beef\n  And we don't call it beef until I'm\n  Sending hits where your daughters be\n\n  Step on work with foreign sneaks\n  Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\n  Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\n  The nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\n  Possibly I'm coming across as hostile\n  You can be double crossed by your\n  Apostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\n  Black COB flag hanging out the left side\n  Blowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\n  Ran up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\n  His wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\n  I went from roaches in the cereal\n  To flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\n  But culture vultures don't hear me though\n  Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\n  While bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\n  Why the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\n  I give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\n  Go look it up, you don't read books enough\n  That's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga\n"},{"id":32341393,"name":"Buckingham Palace (feat. Kxng Crooked, Benny the Butcher & 38 Spesh)","trackName":"Buckingham Palace (feat. Kxng Crooked, Benny the Butcher & 38 Spesh)","artistName":"Ghostface Killah, Kxng Crooked, Benny The Butcher, 38 Spesh","albumName":"Buckingham Palace (feat. Kxng Crooked, Benny the Butcher & 38 Spesh)","duration":196.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\nLong dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\nCoca in a glass of ice cubes\nI got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\nI don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\nGot the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\nSexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\nGot two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\nMemory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\nMy clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\nWe kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\nWe bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\nNarcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\nRight near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\nBumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\nIt's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\nWatch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\nShooters, ruthless, all types of killers\nHunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\nBox cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\nAyo, I got a problem with authority\nLawyers handle problems accordingly\nThey acting like the pops wasn't calling me\nI gotta make sure my corner eat\nOver the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\nBlack man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\nEither you a hustler or a thief\nAll I needed was a quarter ki\nIn the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\nSold it hot but I bought it cheap\nGot it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\nHuh, buy your bitch for a week\nShe hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\nYou talk slick but can't afford to beef\nAnd we don't call it beef until I'm\nSending hits where your daughters be\n\nStep on work with foreign sneaks\nEverything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\nYeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\nThe nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\nPossibly I'm coming across as hostile\nYou can be double crossed by your\nApostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\nBlack COB flag hanging out the left side\nBlowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\nRan up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\nHis wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\nI went from roaches in the cereal\nTo flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\nBut culture vultures don't hear me though\nHotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\nWhile bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\nWhy the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\nI give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\nGo look it up, you don't read books enough\nThat's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Buckingham Palace (feat. Kxng Crooked, Benny the Butcher & 38 Spesh)\n  artist: Ghostface Killah, Kxng Crooked, Benny The Butcher, 38 Spesh\n  album: Buckingham Palace (feat. Kxng Crooked, Benny the Butcher & 38 Spesh)\n  duration_ms: 196000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\n  Long dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\n  Coca in a glass of ice cubes\n  I got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\n  I don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\n  Got the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\n  Sexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\n  Got two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\n  Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\n  My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\n  We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\n  We bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\n  Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\n  Right near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\n  Bumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\n  It's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\n  Watch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\n  Shooters, ruthless, all types of killers\n  Hunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\n  Box cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\n  Ayo, I got a problem with authority\n  Lawyers handle problems accordingly\n  They acting like the pops wasn't calling me\n  I gotta make sure my corner eat\n  Over the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\n  Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\n  Either you a hustler or a thief\n  All I needed was a quarter ki\n  In the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\n  Sold it hot but I bought it cheap\n  Got it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\n  Huh, buy your bitch for a week\n  She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\n  You talk slick but can't afford to beef\n  And we don't call it beef until I'm\n  Sending hits where your daughters be\n\n  Step on work with foreign sneaks\n  Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\n  Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\n  The nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\n  Possibly I'm coming across as hostile\n  You can be double crossed by your\n  Apostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\n  Black COB flag hanging out the left side\n  Blowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\n  Ran up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\n  His wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\n  I went from roaches in the cereal\n  To flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\n  But culture vultures don't hear me though\n  Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\n  While bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\n  Why the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\n  I give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\n  Go look it up, you don't read books enough\n  That's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga\n"},{"id":15845246,"name":"Buckingham Palace (feat. Benny, KXNG Crooked & 38 Spesh)","trackName":"Buckingham Palace (feat. Benny, KXNG Crooked & 38 Spesh)","artistName":"Ghostface Killah","albumName":"The Tape Deck 2018: Volume #3","duration":196.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hunnid Gs\nBone crusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\nLong dickin' chicks like my rap's longevity\nColder than a glass of ice cubes\nI got 'em all in bad moods\n[?] shoes, I never move\nI don't give a fuck about how you feelin'\nGot the roof on fire, [?] to the ceilin'\nSexual healin', [?] on that Marvin Gay shit\nGot two Blackberrys [?] that'll melt your facelift\nMemory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\nMy clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\nWe kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\nWe bounce off of motors like westcoast hydraulics\nNarcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\nRight near the mask, and the wig, and the fake dreadlocks\nBombaklat, box of ammo in the pocket\nIt's all for the gangstas, your eyes hangin' out your sockets\n\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\nHey yo\nI got a problem with authority\nLawyers handle problems accordingly\nThey actin' like they pops wasn't callin' me\nI gotta make sure my corner eat\nOver the stove pot linked to the side like I'm pourin' tea\nBlack man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\nEither you a hustler or a thief\nAll I needed was a quarter key\nIn the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\nSold it hot but I bought it cheap\nGotta [?] Miami back to P.A. like Ross and Meek\nHuh, borrow your bitch for a week\nShe hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\nYou talk slick but can't afford to be\nAnd we don't call it beef until I'm\nsendin' hits where you daughters be\nStep on work with foreign sneaks\nEverything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\nYeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop!\nThe nozzle is the nostrel of the Roscoe, pop pop!\nPossibly I'm comin' across as hostile\nYou could be double crossed by your Apostle\nThat's the Pentecostal gospel\nBlack C.O.D. flag hangin' out the left side\nBlowin' in the atmopshere, the atlas here is westside\nRan up in the stash spot when I heard my connect died\nHis wife is Columbian, got Columbian neck tied\nI went from roaches in the cereal to\nflowin' the most ferocious in your stereo\nBut culture vultures don't hear me though\nHotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\nWhy bitches our here with a burnin' bush like the Moses miracle\nWhy the fuck would I touch a THOT with some gonorrhea?\nI give her the hammer, I call it a blamma\nThat's onamonapia, go look it up\nYou don't read books enough\nThat's why Crooked's up in your mamma mia\nI'mma G, nigga","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Buckingham Palace (feat. Benny, KXNG Crooked & 38 Spesh)\n  artist: Ghostface Killah\n  album: 'The Tape Deck 2018: Volume #3'\n  duration_ms: 196000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Hunnid Gs\n  Bone crusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\n  Long dickin' chicks like my rap's longevity\n  Colder than a glass of ice cubes\n  I got 'em all in bad moods\n  [?] shoes, I never move\n  I don't give a fuck about how you feelin'\n  Got the roof on fire, [?] to the ceilin'\n  Sexual healin', [?] on that Marvin Gay shit\n  Got two Blackberrys [?] that'll melt your facelift\n  Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\n  My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\n  We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\n  We bounce off of motors like westcoast hydraulics\n  Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\n  Right near the mask, and the wig, and the fake dreadlocks\n  Bombaklat, box of ammo in the pocket\n  It's all for the gangstas, your eyes hangin' out your sockets\n\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\n  Hey yo\n  I got a problem with authority\n  Lawyers handle problems accordingly\n  They actin' like they pops wasn't callin' me\n  I gotta make sure my corner eat\n  Over the stove pot linked to the side like I'm pourin' tea\n  Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\n  Either you a hustler or a thief\n  All I needed was a quarter key\n  In the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n  Sold it hot but I bought it cheap\n  Gotta [?] Miami back to P.A. like Ross and Meek\n  Huh, borrow your bitch for a week\n  She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\n  You talk slick but can't afford to be\n  And we don't call it beef until I'm\n  sendin' hits where you daughters be\n  Step on work with foreign sneaks\n  Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\n  Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop!\n  The nozzle is the nostrel of the Roscoe, pop pop!\n  Possibly I'm comin' across as hostile\n  You could be double crossed by your Apostle\n  That's the Pentecostal gospel\n  Black C.O.D. flag hangin' out the left side\n  Blowin' in the atmopshere, the atlas here is westside\n  Ran up in the stash spot when I heard my connect died\n  His wife is Columbian, got Columbian neck tied\n  I went from roaches in the cereal to\n  flowin' the most ferocious in your stereo\n  But culture vultures don't hear me though\n  Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\n  Why bitches our here with a burnin' bush like the Moses miracle\n  Why the fuck would I touch a THOT with some gonorrhea?\n  I give her the hammer, I call it a blamma\n  That's onamonapia, go look it up\n  You don't read books enough\n  That's why Crooked's up in your mamma mia\n  I'mma G, nigga\n"},{"id":25439193,"name":"Buckingham Palace (ft. KXNG Crooked, Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)","trackName":"Buckingham Palace (ft. KXNG Crooked, Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)","artistName":"Ghostface Killah","albumName":"The Lost Tapes","duration":196.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\nLong dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\nCoca in a glass of ice cubes\nI got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\nI don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\nGot the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\nSexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\nGot two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\nMemory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\nMy clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\nWe kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\nWe bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\nNarcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\nRight near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\nBumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\nIt's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\nWatch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\nShooters, ruthless, all types of killers\nHunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\nBox cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\nAyo, I got a problem with authority\nLawyers handle problems accordingly\nThey acting like the pops wasn't calling me\nI gotta make sure my corner eat\nOver the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\nBlack man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\nEither you a hustler or a thief\nAll I needed was a quarter ki\nIn the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\nSold it hot but I bought it cheap\nGot it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\nHuh, buy your bitch for a week\nShe hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\nYou talk slick but can't afford to beef\nAnd we don't call it beef until I'm\nSending hits where your daughters be\n\nStep on work with foreign sneaks\nEverything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\nYeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\nThe nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\nPossibly I'm coming across as hostile\nYou can be double crossed by your\nApostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\nBlack COB flag hanging out the left side\nBlowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\nRan up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\nHis wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\nI went from roaches in the cereal\nTo flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\nBut culture vultures don't hear me though\nHotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\nWhile bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\nWhy the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\nI give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\nGo look it up, you don't read books enough\nThat's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Buckingham Palace (ft. KXNG Crooked, Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)\n  artist: Ghostface Killah\n  album: The Lost Tapes\n  duration_ms: 196000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\n  Long dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\n  Coca in a glass of ice cubes\n  I got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\n  I don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\n  Got the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\n  Sexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\n  Got two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\n  Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\n  My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\n  We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\n  We bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\n  Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\n  Right near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\n  Bumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\n  It's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\n  Watch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\n  Shooters, ruthless, all types of killers\n  Hunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\n  Box cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\n  Ayo, I got a problem with authority\n  Lawyers handle problems accordingly\n  They acting like the pops wasn't calling me\n  I gotta make sure my corner eat\n  Over the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\n  Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\n  Either you a hustler or a thief\n  All I needed was a quarter ki\n  In the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\n  Sold it hot but I bought it cheap\n  Got it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\n  Huh, buy your bitch for a week\n  She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\n  You talk slick but can't afford to beef\n  And we don't call it beef until I'm\n  Sending hits where your daughters be\n\n  Step on work with foreign sneaks\n  Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\n  Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\n  The nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\n  Possibly I'm coming across as hostile\n  You can be double crossed by your\n  Apostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\n  Black COB flag hanging out the left side\n  Blowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\n  Ran up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\n  His wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\n  I went from roaches in the cereal\n  To flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\n  But culture vultures don't hear me though\n  Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\n  While bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\n  Why the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\n  I give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\n  Go look it up, you don't read books enough\n  That's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga\n"},{"id":16628955,"name":"Buckingham Palace (Feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)","trackName":"Buckingham Palace (Feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)","artistName":"Ghostface Killah & Big Ghost LTD","albumName":"The Lost Tapes","duration":196.439252,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hunnid Gs\nBone crusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\nLong dickin' chicks like my rap's longevity\nColder than a glass of ice cubes\nI got 'em all in bad moods\n[?] shoes, I never move\nI don't give a fuck about how you feelin'\nGot the roof on fire, [?] to the ceilin'\nSexual healin', [?] on that Marvin Gay shit\nGot two Blackberrys [?] that'll melt your facelift\nMemory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\nMy clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\nWe kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\nWe bounce off of motors like westcoast hydraulics\nNarcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\nRight near the mask, and the wig, and the fake dreadlocks\nBombaklat, box of ammo in the pocket\nIt's all for the gangstas, your eyes hangin' out your sockets\n\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\nHey yo\nI got a problem with authority\nLawyers handle problems accordingly\nThey actin' like they pops wasn't callin' me\nI gotta make sure my corner eat\nOver the stove pot linked to the side like I'm pourin' tea\nBlack man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\nEither you a hustler or a thief\nAll I needed was a quarter key\nIn the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\nSold it hot but I bought it cheap\nGotta [?] Miami back to P.A. like Ross and Meek\nHuh, borrow your bitch for a week\nShe hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\nYou talk slick but can't afford to be\nAnd we don't call it beef until I'm\nsendin' hits where you daughters be\nStep on work with foreign sneaks\nEverything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\nYeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop!\nThe nozzle is the nostrel of the Roscoe, pop pop!\nPossibly I'm comin' across as hostile\nYou could be double crossed by your Apostle\nThat's the Pentecostal gospel\nBlack C.O.D. flag hangin' out the left side\nBlowin' in the atmopshere, the atlas here is westside\nRan up in the stash spot when I heard my connect died\nHis wife is Columbian, got Columbian neck tied\nI went from roaches in the cereal to\nflowin' the most ferocious in your stereo\nBut culture vultures don't hear me though\nHotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\nWhy bitches our here with a burnin' bush like the Moses miracle\nWhy the fuck would I touch a THOT with some gonorrhea?\nI give her the hammer, I call it a blamma\nThat's onamonapia, go look it up\nYou don't read books enough\nThat's why Crooked's up in your mamma mia\nI'mma G, nigga","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Buckingham Palace (Feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)\n  artist: Ghostface Killah & Big Ghost LTD\n  album: The Lost Tapes\n  duration_ms: 196439\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Hunnid Gs\n  Bone crusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\n  Long dickin' chicks like my rap's longevity\n  Colder than a glass of ice cubes\n  I got 'em all in bad moods\n  [?] shoes, I never move\n  I don't give a fuck about how you feelin'\n  Got the roof on fire, [?] to the ceilin'\n  Sexual healin', [?] on that Marvin Gay shit\n  Got two Blackberrys [?] that'll melt your facelift\n  Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\n  My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\n  We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\n  We bounce off of motors like westcoast hydraulics\n  Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\n  Right near the mask, and the wig, and the fake dreadlocks\n  Bombaklat, box of ammo in the pocket\n  It's all for the gangstas, your eyes hangin' out your sockets\n\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\n  Hey yo\n  I got a problem with authority\n  Lawyers handle problems accordingly\n  They actin' like they pops wasn't callin' me\n  I gotta make sure my corner eat\n  Over the stove pot linked to the side like I'm pourin' tea\n  Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\n  Either you a hustler or a thief\n  All I needed was a quarter key\n  In the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n  Sold it hot but I bought it cheap\n  Gotta [?] Miami back to P.A. like Ross and Meek\n  Huh, borrow your bitch for a week\n  She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\n  You talk slick but can't afford to be\n  And we don't call it beef until I'm\n  sendin' hits where you daughters be\n  Step on work with foreign sneaks\n  Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\n  Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop!\n  The nozzle is the nostrel of the Roscoe, pop pop!\n  Possibly I'm comin' across as hostile\n  You could be double crossed by your Apostle\n  That's the Pentecostal gospel\n  Black C.O.D. flag hangin' out the left side\n  Blowin' in the atmopshere, the atlas here is westside\n  Ran up in the stash spot when I heard my connect died\n  His wife is Columbian, got Columbian neck tied\n  I went from roaches in the cereal to\n  flowin' the most ferocious in your stereo\n  But culture vultures don't hear me though\n  Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\n  Why bitches our here with a burnin' bush like the Moses miracle\n  Why the fuck would I touch a THOT with some gonorrhea?\n  I give her the hammer, I call it a blamma\n  That's onamonapia, go look it up\n  You don't read books enough\n  That's why Crooked's up in your mamma mia\n  I'mma G, nigga\n"},{"id":24109367,"name":"Buckingham Palace (feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny the Butcher, 38 Spesh)","trackName":"Buckingham Palace (feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny the Butcher, 38 Spesh)","artistName":"Ghostface Killah & Big Ghost LTD","albumName":"The Lost Tapes (Deluxe Edition)","duration":196.439229,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hunnid Gs\nBone crusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\nLong dickin' chicks like my rap's longevity\nColder than a glass of ice cubes\nI got 'em all in bad moods\n[?] shoes, I never move\nI don't give a fuck about how you feelin'\nGot the roof on fire, [?] to the ceilin'\nSexual healin', [?] on that Marvin Gay shit\nGot two Blackberrys [?] that'll melt your facelift\nMemory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\nMy clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\nWe kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\nWe bounce off of motors like westcoast hydraulics\nNarcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\nRight near the mask, and the wig, and the fake dreadlocks\nBombaklat, box of ammo in the pocket\nIt's all for the gangstas, your eyes hangin' out your sockets\n\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\nHey yo\nI got a problem with authority\nLawyers handle problems accordingly\nThey actin' like they pops wasn't callin' me\nI gotta make sure my corner eat\nOver the stove pot linked to the side like I'm pourin' tea\nBlack man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\nEither you a hustler or a thief\nAll I needed was a quarter key\nIn the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\nSold it hot but I bought it cheap\nGotta [?] Miami back to P.A. like Ross and Meek\nHuh, borrow your bitch for a week\nShe hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\nYou talk slick but can't afford to be\nAnd we don't call it beef until I'm\nsendin' hits where you daughters be\nStep on work with foreign sneaks\nEverything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\nWatch how you talkin' to my goons\nIt's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\nHunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\nBox cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\nYeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop!\nThe nozzle is the nostrel of the Roscoe, pop pop!\nPossibly I'm comin' across as hostile\nYou could be double crossed by your Apostle\nThat's the Pentecostal gospel\nBlack C.O.D. flag hangin' out the left side\nBlowin' in the atmopshere, the atlas here is westside\nRan up in the stash spot when I heard my connect died\nHis wife is Columbian, got Columbian neck tied\nI went from roaches in the cereal to\nflowin' the most ferocious in your stereo\nBut culture vultures don't hear me though\nHotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\nWhy bitches our here with a burnin' bush like the Moses miracle\nWhy the fuck would I touch a THOT with some gonorrhea?\nI give her the hammer, I call it a blamma\nThat's onamonapia, go look it up\nYou don't read books enough\nThat's why Crooked's up in your mamma mia\nI'mma G, nigga","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Buckingham Palace (feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny the Butcher, 38 Spesh)\n  artist: Ghostface Killah & Big Ghost LTD\n  album: The Lost Tapes (Deluxe Edition)\n  duration_ms: 196439\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Hunnid Gs\n  Bone crusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\n  Long dickin' chicks like my rap's longevity\n  Colder than a glass of ice cubes\n  I got 'em all in bad moods\n  [?] shoes, I never move\n  I don't give a fuck about how you feelin'\n  Got the roof on fire, [?] to the ceilin'\n  Sexual healin', [?] on that Marvin Gay shit\n  Got two Blackberrys [?] that'll melt your facelift\n  Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\n  My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\n  We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\n  We bounce off of motors like westcoast hydraulics\n  Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\n  Right near the mask, and the wig, and the fake dreadlocks\n  Bombaklat, box of ammo in the pocket\n  It's all for the gangstas, your eyes hangin' out your sockets\n\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\n  Hey yo\n  I got a problem with authority\n  Lawyers handle problems accordingly\n  They actin' like they pops wasn't callin' me\n  I gotta make sure my corner eat\n  Over the stove pot linked to the side like I'm pourin' tea\n  Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\n  Either you a hustler or a thief\n  All I needed was a quarter key\n  In the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n  Sold it hot but I bought it cheap\n  Gotta [?] Miami back to P.A. like Ross and Meek\n  Huh, borrow your bitch for a week\n  She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\n  You talk slick but can't afford to be\n  And we don't call it beef until I'm\n  sendin' hits where you daughters be\n  Step on work with foreign sneaks\n  Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n  Watch how you talkin' to my goons\n  It's guerillas, shooters, ruthless, all types of killas\n  Hunger Game shit, they fightin' for blood space\n  Box cutters, [?] stars'll [?] your face\n\n  Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop!\n  The nozzle is the nostrel of the Roscoe, pop pop!\n  Possibly I'm comin' across as hostile\n  You could be double crossed by your Apostle\n  That's the Pentecostal gospel\n  Black C.O.D. flag hangin' out the left side\n  Blowin' in the atmopshere, the atlas here is westside\n  Ran up in the stash spot when I heard my connect died\n  His wife is Columbian, got Columbian neck tied\n  I went from roaches in the cereal to\n  flowin' the most ferocious in your stereo\n  But culture vultures don't hear me though\n  Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\n  Why bitches our here with a burnin' bush like the Moses miracle\n  Why the fuck would I touch a THOT with some gonorrhea?\n  I give her the hammer, I call it a blamma\n  That's onamonapia, go look it up\n  You don't read books enough\n  That's why Crooked's up in your mamma mia\n  I'mma G, nigga\n"},{"id":35928958,"name":"Buckingham Palace (feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)","trackName":"Buckingham Palace (feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)","artistName":"Ghostface Killah, KXNG Crooked, Benny The Butcher, 38 Spesh","albumName":"The Lost Tapes","duration":194.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\nLong dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\nCoca in a glass of ice cubes\nI got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\nI don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\nGot the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\nSexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\nGot two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\nMemory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\nMy clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\nWe kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\nWe bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\nNarcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\nRight near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\nBumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\nIt's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\nWatch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\nShooters, ruthless, all types of killers\nHunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\nBox cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\nAyo, I got a problem with authority\nLawyers handle problems accordingly\nThey acting like the pops wasn't calling me\nI gotta make sure my corner eat\nOver the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\nBlack man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\nEither you a hustler or a thief\nAll I needed was a quarter ki\nIn the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\nSold it hot but I bought it cheap\nGot it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\nHuh, buy your bitch for a week\nShe hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\nYou talk slick but can't afford to beef\nAnd we don't call it beef until I'm\nSending hits where your daughters be\n\nStep on work with foreign sneaks\nEverything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\nYeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\nThe nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\nPossibly I'm coming across as hostile\nYou can be double crossed by your\nApostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\nBlack COB flag hanging out the left side\nBlowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\nRan up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\nHis wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\nI went from roaches in the cereal\nTo flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\nBut culture vultures don't hear me though\nHotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\nWhile bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\nWhy the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\nI give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\nGo look it up, you don't read books enough\nThat's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Buckingham Palace (feat. KXNG Crooked, Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)\n  artist: Ghostface Killah, KXNG Crooked, Benny The Butcher, 38 Spesh\n  album: The Lost Tapes\n  duration_ms: 194000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\n  Long dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\n  Coca in a glass of ice cubes\n  I got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\n  I don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\n  Got the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\n  Sexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\n  Got two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\n  Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\n  My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\n  We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\n  We bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\n  Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\n  Right near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\n  Bumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\n  It's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\n  Watch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\n  Shooters, ruthless, all types of killers\n  Hunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\n  Box cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\n  Ayo, I got a problem with authority\n  Lawyers handle problems accordingly\n  They acting like the pops wasn't calling me\n  I gotta make sure my corner eat\n  Over the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\n  Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\n  Either you a hustler or a thief\n  All I needed was a quarter ki\n  In the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\n  Sold it hot but I bought it cheap\n  Got it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\n  Huh, buy your bitch for a week\n  She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\n  You talk slick but can't afford to beef\n  And we don't call it beef until I'm\n  Sending hits where your daughters be\n\n  Step on work with foreign sneaks\n  Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\n  Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\n  The nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\n  Possibly I'm coming across as hostile\n  You can be double crossed by your\n  Apostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\n  Black COB flag hanging out the left side\n  Blowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\n  Ran up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\n  His wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\n  I went from roaches in the cereal\n  To flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\n  But culture vultures don't hear me though\n  Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\n  While bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\n  Why the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\n  I give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\n  Go look it up, you don't read books enough\n  That's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga\n"},{"id":32186773,"name":"Buckingham Palace (feat. KXNG Crooked,Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)","trackName":"Buckingham Palace (feat. KXNG Crooked,Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)","artistName":"Ghostface Killah, Big Ghost Ltd, Kxng Crooked, Benny The Butcher, 38 Spesh","albumName":"The Lost Tapes • 5 Year Anniversary • Deluxe Edition","duration":196.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\nLong dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\nCoca in a glass of ice cubes\nI got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\nI don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\nGot the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\nSexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\nGot two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\nMemory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\nMy clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\nWe kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\nWe bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\nNarcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\nRight near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\nBumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\nIt's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\nWatch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\nShooters, ruthless, all types of killers\nHunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\nBox cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\nAyo, I got a problem with authority\nLawyers handle problems accordingly\nThey acting like the pops wasn't calling me\nI gotta make sure my corner eat\nOver the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\nBlack man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\nEither you a hustler or a thief\nAll I needed was a quarter ki\nIn the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\nSold it hot but I bought it cheap\nGot it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\nHuh, buy your bitch for a week\nShe hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\nYou talk slick but can't afford to beef\nAnd we don't call it beef until I'm\nSending hits where your daughters be\n\nStep on work with foreign sneaks\nEverything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\nYeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\nThe nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\nPossibly I'm coming across as hostile\nYou can be double crossed by your\nApostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\nBlack COB flag hanging out the left side\nBlowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\nRan up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\nHis wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\nI went from roaches in the cereal\nTo flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\nBut culture vultures don't hear me though\nHotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\nWhile bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\nWhy the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\nI give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\nGo look it up, you don't read books enough\nThat's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Buckingham Palace (feat. KXNG Crooked,Benny The Butcher & 38 Spesh)\n  artist: Ghostface Killah, Big Ghost Ltd, Kxng Crooked, Benny The Butcher, 38 Spesh\n  album: The Lost Tapes • 5 Year Anniversary • Deluxe Edition\n  duration_ms: 196000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bonecrusher, I'm like the hood's top celebrity\n  Long dick your chick like my raps longevity\n\n  Coca in a glass of ice cubes\n  I got 'em all in bad moods stomping on shoes, I never lose\n  I don't give a fuck about how you're feeling\n  Got the roof on fire, legs to the ceiling\n  Sexual healing, lethal that Marvin Gaye shit\n  Got two black burners that'll melt your facelift\n\n  Memory foam muffle the sound of the gun blast\n  My clan bring heat like the summer, check the forecast\n  We kamikazes, microphone aeronautics\n  We bounce on promoters like West Coast hydraulics\n  Narcotics, we keep a stash in the gun box\n  Right near the mask and the wig of the fake dreadlocks\n\n  Bumbaclot, box of ammo in the pocket\n  It's all fun and games 'til your eyes hanging out your sockets\n\n  Watch how you're talking to my goons, it's guerillas\n  Shooters, ruthless, all types of killers\n  Hunger Games shit, they fighting for block space\n  Box cutters, Gemstars, I'll ox your face\n\n  Ayo, I got a problem with authority\n  Lawyers handle problems accordingly\n  They acting like the pops wasn't calling me\n  I gotta make sure my corner eat\n  Over the stove, pot lean to the side like I'm pouring tea\n  Black man in a foreign V, emblem on the door and seats\n  Either you a hustler or a thief\n  All I needed was a quarter ki\n  In the corner, me and my dog regulated like Warren G\n\n  Sold it hot but I bought it cheap\n  Got it from Miami back to PA like Ross and Meek\n  Huh, buy your bitch for a week\n  She hold my guns and bricks, I give her dick for a storage fee\n  You talk slick but can't afford to beef\n  And we don't call it beef until I'm\n  Sending hits where your daughters be\n\n  Step on work with foreign sneaks\n  Everything foreign so my bitch look like Kimora Lee\n\n  Yeah, bandana tied around the nozzle, pop pop\n  The nozzle is the nostril of the rostral, pop pop\n\n  Possibly I'm coming across as hostile\n  You can be double crossed by your\n  Apostle, that's the Pentecostal gospel\n\n  Black COB flag hanging out the left side\n  Blowing in the atmosphere, the atlas here is Westside\n  Ran up in his stash spot when I heard my connect died\n  His wife is Colombian, got Colombian neck ties\n  I went from roaches in the cereal\n  To flowing the most ferocious in your stereo\n  But culture vultures don't hear me though\n  Hotter than diseases that overdose the venereal\n  While bitches at it with a burning bush like the Moses miracle\n\n  Why the fuck would I touch a thot with some gonorrhea?\n  I give her the hammer, I call it a blammer, that's onomatopoeia\n  Go look it up, you don't read books enough\n  That's why Crook is up in your mamma mia, I'm a G nigga\n"}]