[{"id":26678227,"name":"Renaissance","trackName":"Renaissance","artistName":"Hell Razah feat. Tragedy Khadafi & R.A. the Rugged Man","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":207.666667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"One two, one two\nYo, you can hear me? One two, turn me up\n\nI been a threat since Benetton, Gazelles and Bally's\nThe icon, the graffiti in the Brooklyn alley\nTouch hearts of the Pharaohs in the Egypt Valley\nMy engineer can't see me 'cause the booth is cloudy\nStill rowdy even though we in BM's and Audi's\nLooking like black Saudis in black Denalis\nI'm a terrorist attack when I get on the track\nIf I'm riding shotgun, I need one in my lap\nI adapt to any habitat, a BK desert rat\nIt's war, then we sending back bodies and gats\nPut up the white flag, homie, it get worse in Iraq\nWe know the CIA game was to frame us with crack\nSo these bars more dope, heroin in my pen\nGot 'em mobbing, back robbing, head nodding again\nWho you shit on to get on top could make it pop in the end\nWho's a flop and what's hot, got you locked in a gym\nTell Jacob I spit jewels, I could drop him a gem\nAnd if he looking for a diamond, I could hook him with Tim\n\nI'm hip hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\nIt was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\nNow we bring the game back into this New York feel\nI'm hip hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\n\nI'm hip hop since EPMD, you gots to chill\nI'm hip hop since Beastie Boys, Licensed to Ill\nI'm Christopher Wallace with street knowledge, apostle of the projects\nSpeaker boxes with G-packs stuffed in a G's closet\nI'm tenement buildings, cement streets\nI'm British Walkers, I'm scuff marks on your brand new Ellesse\nFive Percent Nation, the God bodies greeting with peace\nI'm raw like Kane, my lyrics are formed of solid rock\nSpit it, hotter than '86 on drug infested blocks\nLast photo of Pac before his Bimmer got shot\nI'm the Queens, one man supreme team, triple beam dream\nMicrophone cream fiend, top five, dead or alive\nI'm so amazing, two five, Cosa Nostra\nHeart of this culture, the game ain't over\nI'm the Two Screw, War Report, Illegal Life, stick you\nAgainst all odds, not the ordinary shit you used to\nI'm C-Murder before the life sentence, predicate felons\nHomicide, chasing niggas, hopping over benches\n\nI'm hip hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\nIt was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\nNow we bring the game back into this New York feel\nI'm hip hop\n\nI'm the best, so yes, I guess, suggest the rest, you fess\nI'm Tribe Quest, I'm Moe Dee, Wild West, Treach\nNaughty Jazz, Jeff Slick Rick, I'm Doug Fresh\nI'm Def, I'm Canibus before he met Wyclef\nOriginal, I don't bite, I don't need nobody to ghostwrite\nKool G Rap strike the mic, I recite the type of hype that you like\nI'm Sweetback, I'm Uptown Saturday Night\nI'm Black Caesar, I'm Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite\nI'm an assassin rapping, I'm Grand Wizard Theodore\nWhen he invented scratching\nI'm Wu-Tang Killa Bee, epitome of Public Enemy\nGambling, hustling like Smooth and Trigga be, bitter be\nBum stiggidy-diggidy-dies literally\nI'm Pun in the middle with Little Italy, didn't do diddly\nDidn't he listen to me? I'm all good, I'm hood\nI'm Ice Cube before he turned soft and went Hollywood\nI'm Poetic from Gravediggaz, I'm O.D.B\nI'm Headquarters, I'm Ted Demme, I'm Paul C\nIf I ain't better than B.I.G., I'm the closest\nI'm Richard Pryor before multiple sclerosis\nI'm beef, I'm gold teeth, peace\nMantronix, Stetsasonic, symbolic, Bambaataa, soul sonic\nI'm Dre the Chronic, melodic with logic, Islamic\nA poverty prophet, economy robbery, cock it\nI probably properly drop it, it gotta be honest\nThe opposite of novelty, rocket, I Herbie Hancock it\nHarmonics throw in your gun, I'm Funky Four plus one","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Renaissance\n  artist: Hell Razah feat. Tragedy Khadafi & R.A. the Rugged Man\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 207667\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  One two, one two\n  Yo, you can hear me? One two, turn me up\n\n  I been a threat since Benetton, Gazelles and Bally's\n  The icon, the graffiti in the Brooklyn alley\n  Touch hearts of the Pharaohs in the Egypt Valley\n  My engineer can't see me 'cause the booth is cloudy\n  Still rowdy even though we in BM's and Audi's\n  Looking like black Saudis in black Denalis\n  I'm a terrorist attack when I get on the track\n  If I'm riding shotgun, I need one in my lap\n  I adapt to any habitat, a BK desert rat\n  It's war, then we sending back bodies and gats\n  Put up the white flag, homie, it get worse in Iraq\n  We know the CIA game was to frame us with crack\n  So these bars more dope, heroin in my pen\n  Got 'em mobbing, back robbing, head nodding again\n  Who you shit on to get on top could make it pop in the end\n  Who's a flop and what's hot, got you locked in a gym\n  Tell Jacob I spit jewels, I could drop him a gem\n  And if he looking for a diamond, I could hook him with Tim\n\n  I'm hip hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n  It was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\n  Now we bring the game back into this New York feel\n  I'm hip hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n\n  I'm hip hop since EPMD, you gots to chill\n  I'm hip hop since Beastie Boys, Licensed to Ill\n  I'm Christopher Wallace with street knowledge, apostle of the projects\n  Speaker boxes with G-packs stuffed in a G's closet\n  I'm tenement buildings, cement streets\n  I'm British Walkers, I'm scuff marks on your brand new Ellesse\n  Five Percent Nation, the God bodies greeting with peace\n  I'm raw like Kane, my lyrics are formed of solid rock\n  Spit it, hotter than '86 on drug infested blocks\n  Last photo of Pac before his Bimmer got shot\n  I'm the Queens, one man supreme team, triple beam dream\n  Microphone cream fiend, top five, dead or alive\n  I'm so amazing, two five, Cosa Nostra\n  Heart of this culture, the game ain't over\n  I'm the Two Screw, War Report, Illegal Life, stick you\n  Against all odds, not the ordinary shit you used to\n  I'm C-Murder before the life sentence, predicate felons\n  Homicide, chasing niggas, hopping over benches\n\n  I'm hip hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n  It was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\n  Now we bring the game back into this New York feel\n  I'm hip hop\n\n  I'm the best, so yes, I guess, suggest the rest, you fess\n  I'm Tribe Quest, I'm Moe Dee, Wild West, Treach\n  Naughty Jazz, Jeff Slick Rick, I'm Doug Fresh\n  I'm Def, I'm Canibus before he met Wyclef\n  Original, I don't bite, I don't need nobody to ghostwrite\n  Kool G Rap strike the mic, I recite the type of hype that you like\n  I'm Sweetback, I'm Uptown Saturday Night\n  I'm Black Caesar, I'm Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite\n  I'm an assassin rapping, I'm Grand Wizard Theodore\n  When he invented scratching\n  I'm Wu-Tang Killa Bee, epitome of Public Enemy\n  Gambling, hustling like Smooth and Trigga be, bitter be\n  Bum stiggidy-diggidy-dies literally\n  I'm Pun in the middle with Little Italy, didn't do diddly\n  Didn't he listen to me? I'm all good, I'm hood\n  I'm Ice Cube before he turned soft and went Hollywood\n  I'm Poetic from Gravediggaz, I'm O.D.B\n  I'm Headquarters, I'm Ted Demme, I'm Paul C\n  If I ain't better than B.I.G., I'm the closest\n  I'm Richard Pryor before multiple sclerosis\n  I'm beef, I'm gold teeth, peace\n  Mantronix, Stetsasonic, symbolic, Bambaataa, soul sonic\n  I'm Dre the Chronic, melodic with logic, Islamic\n  A poverty prophet, economy robbery, cock it\n  I probably properly drop it, it gotta be honest\n  The opposite of novelty, rocket, I Herbie Hancock it\n  Harmonics throw in your gun, I'm Funky Four plus one\n"},{"id":29823936,"name":"Lost Ark","trackName":"Lost Ark","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":195.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Lost Ark\nAs they search and invaded countries, and territories and lands\nMore and more places, they searched\nAnd they invaded, and destroyed they conquered people\nFor the Ark of the Covenant\nHoly of the Holies, instill\nAnd the word translated in English read\n\nDon't touch the deck of love, we was made in the image of God\nWe was formed out of the dust, when they finish the stars\nI'm Israeli, and half alien, covered with skin\nAs a sperm learned to swim, now we flooded in sin\nMy results of DNA, was a sign of may day\nWhen they looked and seen my X-Ray, they started to pray\n\nMy street team was seen in a dead man's dream\nGo 'head, get ya green, til my album is king\nNo tribe can make music, like Judah bloodstream\nDon't vow, make a promise to America's queen\nThey computering your offspring, with a vaccine\nWith the evidence of Genesis, the book of the genes\nI'm the virus to the Internet, give it to knight us\nArthritis, to you writers, love to follow Osirus\nMore brighter than the lighters, that'll get in your iris\nAnd spit gasoline rhymes, in the city of fire\nMy saliva's like lava, for hell's thermometer\nOn the mic, I'm two hundred and twelve in Fahrenheit\nIn kilometers, I travel, and burn your satellite\nCome down and break bread, with the pharaohs at night\n\nWe read our names in the Hebrew text, look like the black Odets\nWe Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\nWe get our ate, from the blood of the sphinx, for the thugs and the saints\nWe Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\nWe young pharaohs, we waving our pistols, on the search for the hiss ghost\nWe Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\nUFO's got invisible shields, on the seeds of Israel\nWe Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n\nWe the chosen ones out the Bible\nStill serving other Gods and idols, we get our name from the angel Michael\nAin't nothing changed, it's the same cycles\nWe must awaken up the Christ inside you\nSeek scriptures instead of rifles, trying to fight, could be suicidal\nWe wrestle, not against, flesh and blood\nIt's modern Exodus, the second flood\nWe build an ark with the art of love, below the dark clouds up above\nFrom the humble to the hardest thugs\nFrom the queens to the harlots in these strip clubs\nLine of Judah when it's crying cubs, out selling or they buying drugs\nFrom the government, who fly it in\nThis be the Babylon, we dying in\nBut through the truth, we can rise again (get up)\nWise words do apply to sin, we suffering cause the pride of men\nI'll resurrect 'em when I grab the pen\n\nWe read our names in the Hebrew text, look like the black Odets\nWe Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\nWe get our ate, from the blood of the sphinx, for the thugs and the saints\nWe Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\nWe young pharaohs, we waving our pistols, on the search for the hiss ghost\nWe Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\nUFO's got invisible shields, on the seeds of Israel\nWe Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark","syncedLyrics":"[00:05.03] Lost Ark\n[00:07.55] As they search and invaded countries, and territories and lands\n[00:11.85] More and more places, they searched\n[00:14.32] And they invaded, and destroyed they conquered people\n[00:18.57] For the Ark of the Covenant\n[00:21.88] Holy of the Holies, instill\n[00:30.01] And the word translated in English read\n[00:33.05] Don't touch the deck of love, we was made in the image of God\n[00:36.51] We was formed out of the dust, when they finish the stars\n[00:39.57] I'm Israeli, and half alien, covered with skin\n[00:42.26] As a sperm learned to swim, now we flooded in sin\n[00:45.08] My results of DNA, was a sign of may day\n[00:48.07] When they looked and seen my X-Ray, they started to pray\n[00:50.83] My street team was seen in a dead man's dream\n[00:53.50] Go 'head, get ya green, til my album is king\n[00:56.23] No tribe can make music, like Judah bloodstream\n[00:59.31] Don't vow, make a promise to America's queen\n[01:02.02] They computering your offspring, with a vaccine\n[01:05.04] With the evidence of Genesis, the book of the genes\n[01:07.74] I'm the virus to the Internet, give it to knight us\n[01:10.55] Arthritis, to you writers, love to follow Osirus\n[01:13.32] More brighter than the lighters, that'll get in your iris\n[01:16.07] And spit gasoline rhymes, in the city of fire\n[01:19.09] My saliva's like lava, for hell's thermometer\n[01:21.86] On the mic, I'm two hundred and twelve in Fahrenheit\n[01:24.79] In kilometers, I travel, and burn your satellite\n[01:27.57] Come down and break bread, with the pharaohs at night\n[01:30.15] We read our names in the Hebrew text, look like the black Odets\n[01:33.59] We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n[01:35.84] We get our ate, from the blood of the sphinx, for the thugs and the saints\n[01:39.33] We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n[01:41.33] We young pharaohs, we waving our pistols, on the search for the hiss ghost\n[01:45.08] We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n[01:47.27] UFO's got invisible shields, on the seeds of Israel\n[01:50.54] We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n[01:52.76] We the chosen ones out the Bible\n[01:54.75] Still serving other Gods and idols, we get our name from the angel Michael\n[01:59.05] Ain't nothing changed, it's the same cycles\n[02:01.30] We must awaken up the Christ inside you\n[02:03.36] Seek scriptures instead of rifles, trying to fight, could be suicidal\n[02:07.62] We wrestle, not against, flesh and blood\n[02:09.57] It's modern Exodus, the second flood\n[02:11.74] We build an ark with the art of love, below the dark clouds up above\n[02:16.08] From the humble to the hardest thugs\n[02:18.21] From the queens to the harlots in these strip clubs\n[02:20.84] Line of Judah when it's crying cubs, out selling or they buying drugs\n[02:25.33] From the government, who fly it in\n[02:27.32] This be the Babylon, we dying in\n[02:29.37] But through the truth, we can rise again (get up)\n[02:31.56] Wise words do apply to sin, we suffering cause the pride of men\n[02:35.66] I'll resurrect 'em when I grab the pen\n[02:37.81] We read our names in the Hebrew text, look like the black Odets\n[02:41.28] We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n[02:43.53] We get our ate, from the blood of the sphinx, for the thugs and the saints\n[02:47.10] We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n[02:49.23] We young pharaohs, we waving our pistols, on the search for the hiss ghost\n[02:52.73] We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n[02:55.08] UFO's got invisible shields, on the seeds of Israel\n[02:58.39] We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n[03:02.31] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lost Ark\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 195000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Lost Ark\n  start_ms: 5030\n  end_ms: 7550\n- text: As they search and invaded countries, and territories and lands\n  start_ms: 7550\n  end_ms: 11850\n- text: More and more places, they searched\n  start_ms: 11850\n  end_ms: 14320\n- text: And they invaded, and destroyed they conquered people\n  start_ms: 14320\n  end_ms: 18570\n- text: For the Ark of the Covenant\n  start_ms: 18570\n  end_ms: 21880\n- text: Holy of the Holies, instill\n  start_ms: 21880\n  end_ms: 30010\n- text: And the word translated in English read\n  start_ms: 30010\n  end_ms: 33050\n- text: Don't touch the deck of love, we was made in the image of God\n  start_ms: 33050\n  end_ms: 36510\n- text: We was formed out of the dust, when they finish the stars\n  start_ms: 36510\n  end_ms: 39570\n- text: I'm Israeli, and half alien, covered with skin\n  start_ms: 39570\n  end_ms: 42260\n- text: As a sperm learned to swim, now we flooded in sin\n  start_ms: 42260\n  end_ms: 45080\n- text: My results of DNA, was a sign of may day\n  start_ms: 45080\n  end_ms: 48070\n- text: When they looked and seen my X-Ray, they started to pray\n  start_ms: 48070\n  end_ms: 50830\n- text: My street team was seen in a dead man's dream\n  start_ms: 50830\n  end_ms: 53500\n- text: Go 'head, get ya green, til my album is king\n  start_ms: 53500\n  end_ms: 56230\n- text: No tribe can make music, like Judah bloodstream\n  start_ms: 56230\n  end_ms: 59310\n- text: Don't vow, make a promise to America's queen\n  start_ms: 59310\n  end_ms: 62020\n- text: They computering your offspring, with a vaccine\n  start_ms: 62020\n  end_ms: 65040\n- text: With the evidence of Genesis, the book of the genes\n  start_ms: 65040\n  end_ms: 67740\n- text: I'm the virus to the Internet, give it to knight us\n  start_ms: 67740\n  end_ms: 70550\n- text: Arthritis, to you writers, love to follow Osirus\n  start_ms: 70550\n  end_ms: 73320\n- text: More brighter than the lighters, that'll get in your iris\n  start_ms: 73320\n  end_ms: 76070\n- text: And spit gasoline rhymes, in the city of fire\n  start_ms: 76070\n  end_ms: 79090\n- text: My saliva's like lava, for hell's thermometer\n  start_ms: 79090\n  end_ms: 81860\n- text: On the mic, I'm two hundred and twelve in Fahrenheit\n  start_ms: 81860\n  end_ms: 84790\n- text: In kilometers, I travel, and burn your satellite\n  start_ms: 84790\n  end_ms: 87570\n- text: Come down and break bread, with the pharaohs at night\n  start_ms: 87570\n  end_ms: 90150\n- text: We read our names in the Hebrew text, look like the black Odets\n  start_ms: 90150\n  end_ms: 93590\n- text: We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  start_ms: 93590\n  end_ms: 95840\n- text: We get our ate, from the blood of the sphinx, for the thugs and the saints\n  start_ms: 95840\n  end_ms: 99330\n- text: We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  start_ms: 99330\n  end_ms: 101330\n- text: We young pharaohs, we waving our pistols, on the search for the hiss ghost\n  start_ms: 101330\n  end_ms: 105080\n- text: We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  start_ms: 105080\n  end_ms: 107270\n- text: UFO's got invisible shields, on the seeds of Israel\n  start_ms: 107270\n  end_ms: 110540\n- text: We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  start_ms: 110540\n  end_ms: 112760\n- text: We the chosen ones out the Bible\n  start_ms: 112760\n  end_ms: 114750\n- text: Still serving other Gods and idols, we get our name from the angel Michael\n  start_ms: 114750\n  end_ms: 119050\n- text: Ain't nothing changed, it's the same cycles\n  start_ms: 119050\n  end_ms: 121300\n- text: We must awaken up the Christ inside you\n  start_ms: 121300\n  end_ms: 123360\n- text: Seek scriptures instead of rifles, trying to fight, could be suicidal\n  start_ms: 123360\n  end_ms: 127620\n- text: We wrestle, not against, flesh and blood\n  start_ms: 127620\n  end_ms: 129570\n- text: It's modern Exodus, the second flood\n  start_ms: 129570\n  end_ms: 131740\n- text: We build an ark with the art of love, below the dark clouds up above\n  start_ms: 131740\n  end_ms: 136080\n- text: From the humble to the hardest thugs\n  start_ms: 136080\n  end_ms: 138210\n- text: From the queens to the harlots in these strip clubs\n  start_ms: 138210\n  end_ms: 140840\n- text: Line of Judah when it's crying cubs, out selling or they buying drugs\n  start_ms: 140840\n  end_ms: 145330\n- text: From the government, who fly it in\n  start_ms: 145330\n  end_ms: 147320\n- text: This be the Babylon, we dying in\n  start_ms: 147320\n  end_ms: 149370\n- text: But through the truth, we can rise again (get up)\n  start_ms: 149370\n  end_ms: 151560\n- text: Wise words do apply to sin, we suffering cause the pride of men\n  start_ms: 151560\n  end_ms: 155660\n- text: I'll resurrect 'em when I grab the pen\n  start_ms: 155660\n  end_ms: 157810\n- text: We read our names in the Hebrew text, look like the black Odets\n  start_ms: 157810\n  end_ms: 161280\n- text: We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  start_ms: 161280\n  end_ms: 163530\n- text: We get our ate, from the blood of the sphinx, for the thugs and the saints\n  start_ms: 163530\n  end_ms: 167100\n- text: We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  start_ms: 167100\n  end_ms: 169230\n- text: We young pharaohs, we waving our pistols, on the search for the hiss ghost\n  start_ms: 169230\n  end_ms: 172730\n- text: We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  start_ms: 172730\n  end_ms: 175080\n- text: UFO's got invisible shields, on the seeds of Israel\n  start_ms: 175080\n  end_ms: 178390\n- text: We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  start_ms: 178390\n  end_ms: 182310\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 182310\nplain: |-\n  Lost Ark\n  As they search and invaded countries, and territories and lands\n  More and more places, they searched\n  And they invaded, and destroyed they conquered people\n  For the Ark of the Covenant\n  Holy of the Holies, instill\n  And the word translated in English read\n\n  Don't touch the deck of love, we was made in the image of God\n  We was formed out of the dust, when they finish the stars\n  I'm Israeli, and half alien, covered with skin\n  As a sperm learned to swim, now we flooded in sin\n  My results of DNA, was a sign of may day\n  When they looked and seen my X-Ray, they started to pray\n\n  My street team was seen in a dead man's dream\n  Go 'head, get ya green, til my album is king\n  No tribe can make music, like Judah bloodstream\n  Don't vow, make a promise to America's queen\n  They computering your offspring, with a vaccine\n  With the evidence of Genesis, the book of the genes\n  I'm the virus to the Internet, give it to knight us\n  Arthritis, to you writers, love to follow Osirus\n  More brighter than the lighters, that'll get in your iris\n  And spit gasoline rhymes, in the city of fire\n  My saliva's like lava, for hell's thermometer\n  On the mic, I'm two hundred and twelve in Fahrenheit\n  In kilometers, I travel, and burn your satellite\n  Come down and break bread, with the pharaohs at night\n\n  We read our names in the Hebrew text, look like the black Odets\n  We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  We get our ate, from the blood of the sphinx, for the thugs and the saints\n  We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  We young pharaohs, we waving our pistols, on the search for the hiss ghost\n  We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  UFO's got invisible shields, on the seeds of Israel\n  We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n\n  We the chosen ones out the Bible\n  Still serving other Gods and idols, we get our name from the angel Michael\n  Ain't nothing changed, it's the same cycles\n  We must awaken up the Christ inside you\n  Seek scriptures instead of rifles, trying to fight, could be suicidal\n  We wrestle, not against, flesh and blood\n  It's modern Exodus, the second flood\n  We build an ark with the art of love, below the dark clouds up above\n  From the humble to the hardest thugs\n  From the queens to the harlots in these strip clubs\n  Line of Judah when it's crying cubs, out selling or they buying drugs\n  From the government, who fly it in\n  This be the Babylon, we dying in\n  But through the truth, we can rise again (get up)\n  Wise words do apply to sin, we suffering cause the pride of men\n  I'll resurrect 'em when I grab the pen\n\n  We read our names in the Hebrew text, look like the black Odets\n  We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  We get our ate, from the blood of the sphinx, for the thugs and the saints\n  We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  We young pharaohs, we waving our pistols, on the search for the hiss ghost\n  We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n  UFO's got invisible shields, on the seeds of Israel\n  We Hell Razah's of the Lost Ark\n"},{"id":29483286,"name":"Nativity","trackName":"Nativity","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":118.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given\nand the government shall be upon his shoulder\nand his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor\nthe Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace\n\nOf the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end\nupon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it\nand to establish it with judgment and with justice\nfrom henceforth even for ever and ever, and ever, and ever\n\nOctober 1st my date of birth, I came to the Earth\nMommy, knew it was worth, all the prayers in church\nAs she cried she had a smirk like the pain ain't hers\n\"It's a boy\" - shouted the nurse, this the work of the Lord\nThen she mumbled the Bible verse, clippin' the umbilical cord\nAnd told her, may he be blessed, with a spiritual sword\nReborn and warn his people about the spiritual wars\nIn her arms, I sat warm, all the cryin' was gon'\nAs my pops stood beside her with a hospital gown on\nSeven pounds strong when they fitted my crown on\nI layed in the blanket, starrin' and thinkin'\nWhen I awaken I'ma bomb the Synagogue of Satan\nA rap song versus the Beast with ten horns\n\nThe Renaissance Child is born\nAnd it's done, history is made, the album is recorded\nWe gon' do a Sunz of Man","syncedLyrics":"[00:04.35] For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given\n[00:10.10] and the government shall be upon his shoulder\n[00:12.66] and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor\n[00:16.27] the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace\n[00:21.21] Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end\n[00:25.18] upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it\n[00:28.85] and to establish it with judgment and with justice\n[00:31.61] from henceforth even for ever and ever, and ever, and ever\n[00:37.83] October 1st my date of birth, I came to the Earth\n[00:41.21] Mommy, knew it was worth, all the prayers in church\n[00:44.67] As she cried she had a smirk like the pain ain't hers\n[00:48.09] \"It's a boy\" - shouted the nurse, this the work of the Lord\n[00:51.39] Then she mumbled the Bible verse, clippin' the umbilical cord\n[00:54.79] And told her, may he be blessed, with a spiritual sword\n[00:58.22] Reborn and warn his people about the spiritual wars\n[01:01.53] In her arms, I sat warm, all the cryin' was gon'\n[01:04.98] As my pops stood beside her with a hospital gown on\n[01:08.75] Seven pounds strong when they fitted my crown on\n[01:12.04] I layed in the blanket, starrin' and thinkin'\n[01:15.10] When I awaken I'ma bomb the Synagogue of Satan\n[01:19.29] A rap song versus the Beast with ten horns\n[01:23.32] The Renaissance Child is born\n[01:26.88] And it's done, history is made, the album is recorded\n[01:36.75] We gon' do a Sunz of Man\n[01:43.82] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Nativity\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 118000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given\n  start_ms: 4350\n  end_ms: 10100\n- text: and the government shall be upon his shoulder\n  start_ms: 10100\n  end_ms: 12660\n- text: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor\n  start_ms: 12660\n  end_ms: 16270\n- text: the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace\n  start_ms: 16270\n  end_ms: 21210\n- text: Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end\n  start_ms: 21210\n  end_ms: 25180\n- text: upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it\n  start_ms: 25180\n  end_ms: 28850\n- text: and to establish it with judgment and with justice\n  start_ms: 28850\n  end_ms: 31610\n- text: from henceforth even for ever and ever, and ever, and ever\n  start_ms: 31610\n  end_ms: 37830\n- text: October 1st my date of birth, I came to the Earth\n  start_ms: 37830\n  end_ms: 41210\n- text: Mommy, knew it was worth, all the prayers in church\n  start_ms: 41210\n  end_ms: 44670\n- text: As she cried she had a smirk like the pain ain't hers\n  start_ms: 44670\n  end_ms: 48090\n- text: '\"It''s a boy\" - shouted the nurse, this the work of the Lord'\n  start_ms: 48090\n  end_ms: 51390\n- text: Then she mumbled the Bible verse, clippin' the umbilical cord\n  start_ms: 51390\n  end_ms: 54790\n- text: And told her, may he be blessed, with a spiritual sword\n  start_ms: 54790\n  end_ms: 58220\n- text: Reborn and warn his people about the spiritual wars\n  start_ms: 58220\n  end_ms: 61530\n- text: In her arms, I sat warm, all the cryin' was gon'\n  start_ms: 61530\n  end_ms: 64980\n- text: As my pops stood beside her with a hospital gown on\n  start_ms: 64980\n  end_ms: 68750\n- text: Seven pounds strong when they fitted my crown on\n  start_ms: 68750\n  end_ms: 72040\n- text: I layed in the blanket, starrin' and thinkin'\n  start_ms: 72040\n  end_ms: 75100\n- text: When I awaken I'ma bomb the Synagogue of Satan\n  start_ms: 75100\n  end_ms: 79290\n- text: A rap song versus the Beast with ten horns\n  start_ms: 79290\n  end_ms: 83320\n- text: The Renaissance Child is born\n  start_ms: 83320\n  end_ms: 86880\n- text: And it's done, history is made, the album is recorded\n  start_ms: 86880\n  end_ms: 96750\n- text: We gon' do a Sunz of Man\n  start_ms: 96750\n  end_ms: 103820\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 103820\nplain: |-\n  For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given\n  and the government shall be upon his shoulder\n  and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor\n  the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace\n\n  Of the increase of his government and peace there shall be no end\n  upon the throne of David, and upon his kingdom, to order it\n  and to establish it with judgment and with justice\n  from henceforth even for ever and ever, and ever, and ever\n\n  October 1st my date of birth, I came to the Earth\n  Mommy, knew it was worth, all the prayers in church\n  As she cried she had a smirk like the pain ain't hers\n  \"It's a boy\" - shouted the nurse, this the work of the Lord\n  Then she mumbled the Bible verse, clippin' the umbilical cord\n  And told her, may he be blessed, with a spiritual sword\n  Reborn and warn his people about the spiritual wars\n  In her arms, I sat warm, all the cryin' was gon'\n  As my pops stood beside her with a hospital gown on\n  Seven pounds strong when they fitted my crown on\n  I layed in the blanket, starrin' and thinkin'\n  When I awaken I'ma bomb the Synagogue of Satan\n  A rap song versus the Beast with ten horns\n\n  The Renaissance Child is born\n  And it's done, history is made, the album is recorded\n  We gon' do a Sunz of Man\n"},{"id":30323907,"name":"Los Pepes, Part 1","trackName":"Los Pepes, Part 1","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":213.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\nYo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) Yo we gotta get this nigga man\n(Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n\nHis name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\nEven could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\nThat grow good enough to make him extra dough\nIn my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n\nSmoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\nGot crooked cops even callin him boss\nFour lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\nIn a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n\nIn the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\nToo tired, his fears was the best throw off\nTipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\nTell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n\nIn a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\nA mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\nSix o' clock gon' be a door knock\nCheck the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n\nEight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\nThat chauffer is part of the team\nBring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\nI got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n\nWhen ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\nWith a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\nHurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\nWe on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yea\n\nI'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\nYo God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\nI'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\nThe Al Green album with me\nMan, it's kinda leary out here\nHurry up!\n\nMeanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\nLookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\nBlendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\nRoll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n\nLook the other way, too many murders in town\nFrom the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\nWalk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n\nSheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\nTook ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\nTold the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\nNotified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n\nNow, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\nSix o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\nPablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n\nTwo hours to do a hand count, please sit still\nLoad the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\nEverything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\nA chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n\nBring the CREAM through the detection machine\nWe insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\nSend one of my doves out to the baggage claim\nLook for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\nHurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\nWe tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n\nI'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\nEscobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\nHis fall from grace is swift\nHis uncle is banished from the political scene\nAnd many of his assets are seized\n\n(Come along, when we to get there?)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.81] What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\n[00:05.25] Yo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) Yo we gotta get this nigga man\n[00:07.54] (Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n[00:10.68] His name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\n[00:13.25] Even could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\n[00:16.19] That grow good enough to make him extra dough\n[00:18.33] In my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n[00:21.08] Smoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\n[00:23.93] Got crooked cops even callin him boss\n[00:26.18] Four lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\n[00:28.85] In a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n[00:31.33] In the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\n[00:34.07] Too tired, his fears was the best throw off\n[00:36.47] Tipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\n[00:39.16] Tell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n[00:41.66] In a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\n[00:44.06] A mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\n[00:46.55] Six o' clock gon' be a door knock\n[00:48.56] Check the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n[00:51.82] Eight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\n[00:55.49] That chauffer is part of the team\n[00:57.03] Bring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\n[00:59.55] I got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n[01:02.14] When ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\n[01:04.78] With a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\n[01:07.23] Hurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\n[01:09.73] We on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yea\n[01:12.34] I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[01:15.41] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[01:18.08] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n[01:20.57] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[01:22.82] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[01:25.53] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[01:28.12] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\n[01:30.41] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[01:33.09] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[01:36.11] Yo God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\n[01:38.13] I'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\n[01:40.17] The Al Green album with me\n[01:41.65] Man, it's kinda leary out here\n[01:42.82] Hurry up!\n[01:43.32] Meanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\n[01:46.28] Lookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\n[01:48.59] Blendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\n[01:50.80] Roll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n[01:53.63] Look the other way, too many murders in town\n[01:55.76] From the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n[01:58.66] 20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\n[02:01.59] Walk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n[02:03.82] Sheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\n[02:06.18] Took ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\n[02:09.08] Told the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\n[02:11.36] Notified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n[02:13.83] Now, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n[02:16.53] 20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\n[02:18.94] Six o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\n[02:21.68] Pablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n[02:24.35] Two hours to do a hand count, please sit still\n[02:26.69] Load the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\n[02:29.48] Everything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\n[02:32.13] A chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n[02:34.56] Bring the CREAM through the detection machine\n[02:36.21] We insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\n[02:39.57] Send one of my doves out to the baggage claim\n[02:42.18] Look for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\n[02:44.71] Hurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\n[02:47.17] We tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n[02:49.60] I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[02:52.85] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[02:55.44] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n[02:58.05] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[03:00.27] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[03:03.27] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[03:05.64] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n[03:08.07] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[03:10.47] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[03:14.08] Escobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\n[03:18.03] His fall from grace is swift\n[03:20.53] His uncle is banished from the political scene\n[03:23.18] And many of his assets are seized\n[03:25.46] (Come along, when we to get there?)\n[03:32.22] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Los Pepes, Part 1\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 213000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\n  start_ms: 1810\n  end_ms: 5250\n- text: Yo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) Yo we gotta get this nigga man\n  start_ms: 5250\n  end_ms: 7540\n- text: (Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n  start_ms: 7540\n  end_ms: 10680\n- text: His name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\n  start_ms: 10680\n  end_ms: 13250\n- text: Even could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\n  start_ms: 13250\n  end_ms: 16190\n- text: That grow good enough to make him extra dough\n  start_ms: 16190\n  end_ms: 18330\n- text: In my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n  start_ms: 18330\n  end_ms: 21080\n- text: Smoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\n  start_ms: 21080\n  end_ms: 23930\n- text: Got crooked cops even callin him boss\n  start_ms: 23930\n  end_ms: 26180\n- text: Four lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\n  start_ms: 26180\n  end_ms: 28850\n- text: In a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n  start_ms: 28850\n  end_ms: 31330\n- text: In the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\n  start_ms: 31330\n  end_ms: 34070\n- text: Too tired, his fears was the best throw off\n  start_ms: 34070\n  end_ms: 36470\n- text: Tipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\n  start_ms: 36470\n  end_ms: 39160\n- text: Tell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n  start_ms: 39160\n  end_ms: 41660\n- text: In a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\n  start_ms: 41660\n  end_ms: 44060\n- text: A mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\n  start_ms: 44060\n  end_ms: 46550\n- text: Six o' clock gon' be a door knock\n  start_ms: 46550\n  end_ms: 48560\n- text: Check the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n  start_ms: 48560\n  end_ms: 51820\n- text: Eight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\n  start_ms: 51820\n  end_ms: 55490\n- text: That chauffer is part of the team\n  start_ms: 55490\n  end_ms: 57030\n- text: Bring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\n  start_ms: 57030\n  end_ms: 59550\n- text: I got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n  start_ms: 59550\n  end_ms: 62140\n- text: When ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\n  start_ms: 62140\n  end_ms: 64780\n- text: With a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\n  start_ms: 64780\n  end_ms: 67230\n- text: Hurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\n  start_ms: 67230\n  end_ms: 69730\n- text: We on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yea\n  start_ms: 69730\n  end_ms: 72340\n- text: I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 72340\n  end_ms: 75410\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 75410\n  end_ms: 78080\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  start_ms: 78080\n  end_ms: 80570\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 80570\n  end_ms: 82820\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 82820\n  end_ms: 85530\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 85530\n  end_ms: 88120\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\n  start_ms: 88120\n  end_ms: 90410\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 90410\n  end_ms: 93090\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 93090\n  end_ms: 96110\n- text: Yo God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\n  start_ms: 96110\n  end_ms: 98130\n- text: I'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\n  start_ms: 98130\n  end_ms: 100170\n- text: The Al Green album with me\n  start_ms: 100170\n  end_ms: 101650\n- text: Man, it's kinda leary out here\n  start_ms: 101650\n  end_ms: 102820\n- text: Hurry up!\n  start_ms: 102820\n  end_ms: 103320\n- text: Meanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\n  start_ms: 103320\n  end_ms: 106280\n- text: Lookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\n  start_ms: 106280\n  end_ms: 108590\n- text: Blendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\n  start_ms: 108590\n  end_ms: 110800\n- text: Roll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n  start_ms: 110800\n  end_ms: 113630\n- text: Look the other way, too many murders in town\n  start_ms: 113630\n  end_ms: 115760\n- text: From the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n  start_ms: 115760\n  end_ms: 118660\n- text: 20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\n  start_ms: 118660\n  end_ms: 121590\n- text: Walk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n  start_ms: 121590\n  end_ms: 123820\n- text: Sheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\n  start_ms: 123820\n  end_ms: 126180\n- text: Took ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\n  start_ms: 126180\n  end_ms: 129080\n- text: Told the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\n  start_ms: 129080\n  end_ms: 131360\n- text: Notified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n  start_ms: 131360\n  end_ms: 133830\n- text: Now, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n  start_ms: 133830\n  end_ms: 136530\n- text: 20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\n  start_ms: 136530\n  end_ms: 138940\n- text: Six o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\n  start_ms: 138940\n  end_ms: 141680\n- text: Pablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n  start_ms: 141680\n  end_ms: 144350\n- text: Two hours to do a hand count, please sit still\n  start_ms: 144350\n  end_ms: 146690\n- text: Load the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\n  start_ms: 146690\n  end_ms: 149480\n- text: Everything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\n  start_ms: 149480\n  end_ms: 152130\n- text: A chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n  start_ms: 152130\n  end_ms: 154560\n- text: Bring the CREAM through the detection machine\n  start_ms: 154560\n  end_ms: 156210\n- text: We insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\n  start_ms: 156210\n  end_ms: 159570\n- text: Send one of my doves out to the baggage claim\n  start_ms: 159570\n  end_ms: 162180\n- text: Look for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\n  start_ms: 162180\n  end_ms: 164710\n- text: Hurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\n  start_ms: 164710\n  end_ms: 167170\n- text: We tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n  start_ms: 167170\n  end_ms: 169600\n- text: I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 169600\n  end_ms: 172850\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 172850\n  end_ms: 175440\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  start_ms: 175440\n  end_ms: 178050\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 178050\n  end_ms: 180270\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 180270\n  end_ms: 183270\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 183270\n  end_ms: 185640\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  start_ms: 185640\n  end_ms: 188070\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 188070\n  end_ms: 190470\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 190470\n  end_ms: 194080\n- text: Escobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\n  start_ms: 194080\n  end_ms: 198030\n- text: His fall from grace is swift\n  start_ms: 198030\n  end_ms: 200530\n- text: His uncle is banished from the political scene\n  start_ms: 200530\n  end_ms: 203180\n- text: And many of his assets are seized\n  start_ms: 203180\n  end_ms: 205460\n- text: (Come along, when we to get there?)\n  start_ms: 205460\n  end_ms: 212220\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 212220\nplain: |-\n  What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\n  Yo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) Yo we gotta get this nigga man\n  (Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n\n  His name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\n  Even could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\n  That grow good enough to make him extra dough\n  In my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n\n  Smoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\n  Got crooked cops even callin him boss\n  Four lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\n  In a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n\n  In the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\n  Too tired, his fears was the best throw off\n  Tipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\n  Tell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n\n  In a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\n  A mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\n  Six o' clock gon' be a door knock\n  Check the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n\n  Eight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\n  That chauffer is part of the team\n  Bring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\n  I got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n\n  When ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\n  With a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\n  Hurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\n  We on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yea\n\n  I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\n  Yo God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\n  I'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\n  The Al Green album with me\n  Man, it's kinda leary out here\n  Hurry up!\n\n  Meanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\n  Lookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\n  Blendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\n  Roll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n\n  Look the other way, too many murders in town\n  From the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n  20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\n  Walk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n\n  Sheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\n  Took ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\n  Told the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\n  Notified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n\n  Now, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n  20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\n  Six o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\n  Pablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n\n  Two hours to do a hand count, please sit still\n  Load the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\n  Everything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\n  A chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n\n  Bring the CREAM through the detection machine\n  We insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\n  Send one of my doves out to the baggage claim\n  Look for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\n  Hurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\n  We tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n\n  I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\n  Escobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\n  His fall from grace is swift\n  His uncle is banished from the political scene\n  And many of his assets are seized\n\n  (Come along, when we to get there?)\n"},{"id":33100937,"name":"Musical Murdah (feat. Ras Kass)","trackName":"Musical Murdah (feat. Ras Kass)","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":235.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, where the fuck you get these pictures from?\nYo, let me show you some shit, man\nC'mon, we gon' go in here (Renaissance)\nWe gon' see some shit on the walls in this fuckin' building\nYou ain't never seen before, seen before\n\nYou high, lookin' at the picture, that's when it begin\nYou see a arm out the icon, come snatch you in\nIt's hood hieroglyphics, it was written in graffiti scriptures\nFor all the twelve tribes leavin' with us\nThey got a new Pope, the seeds of Hitler\nWe spell Bush with a swastika, Adolf is Schwartzenegger\nMore coke, more ropes for our throats to kill us\nShippin' dope through the churches, delivered in hearses\nWhen you translate my verses, it's blesses and curses\nMusical murders, direct hearts from the strings of a harp\nThe warriors drum, at night time, give me a spark\nI ain't bark, or no Beethoven, made the heavens open\nFor all the instruments of slaves stolen\nIt's like holdin' on that shofar, blowin' on the Day of Atonement\nNow we followin' the ways of the Romans\nPlay guitars when we buildin' on Mars, in the Issachar bar\nMe and Priest share similar scars, seven stars\nCarved into my skin, what's poppin'?\nIt's somethin' much more to that death, of Johnnie Cochran\nI walk through the valley of kings, like Akhenaton\nAnd run up in the Vatican church, without a stockin'\n\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nMusical murder\n\nIt's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\nHell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\nYo, two years went on I vacation, just\nOne man, defyin' a nation\nWho else could chop pies in the basement\nThen turn around and sign with a Mason?\nDefine the relation between crime and inflation\nDominicano and Haitian\nThrow out all your old CDs, me and Hell Razah replaced 'em\nAnd now I'm gonna show you how the West Coast rocks\nBitches, pull out your titties like Courtney Love\nI'm like the sidewalk, call me, I support these blocks\nScorching hot, jailhouse tatted, four T-Glocks\nYou gon' need morphine shots, the pain is exquisite\nAnd your ride or die bitch, I'mma tell Xzibit to pimp it\nHa, old nigga, new nigga\nTryin' to take the spear of destiny and put it through niggas\nCrack Da Vinci's code, Ras the black Merovingian\nJesus Christ and Mary Magdalene's next of kin\nBut in the end, every three seconds a child dies in Africa\nGenocidal massacre, and rappers know I walk on walls\nLike tarantula, my flow is cancer, the answer\nTo why you on my dick like a catheter, I laugh at half of ya\nMortals can't withstand my velocity\nI flip the Earth's axis with a spatula, impossibly\nI'mma crack the surface, Captain Kirk is\nIn the hood like liquor stores and Baptist churches, motherfucker\nMusical murder\n\nIt's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\nHell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nMusical murder\n\nYou are now listening to the sounds of the Renaissance Child","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Musical Murdah (feat. Ras Kass)\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 235000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, where the fuck you get these pictures from?\n  Yo, let me show you some shit, man\n  C'mon, we gon' go in here (Renaissance)\n  We gon' see some shit on the walls in this fuckin' building\n  You ain't never seen before, seen before\n\n  You high, lookin' at the picture, that's when it begin\n  You see a arm out the icon, come snatch you in\n  It's hood hieroglyphics, it was written in graffiti scriptures\n  For all the twelve tribes leavin' with us\n  They got a new Pope, the seeds of Hitler\n  We spell Bush with a swastika, Adolf is Schwartzenegger\n  More coke, more ropes for our throats to kill us\n  Shippin' dope through the churches, delivered in hearses\n  When you translate my verses, it's blesses and curses\n  Musical murders, direct hearts from the strings of a harp\n  The warriors drum, at night time, give me a spark\n  I ain't bark, or no Beethoven, made the heavens open\n  For all the instruments of slaves stolen\n  It's like holdin' on that shofar, blowin' on the Day of Atonement\n  Now we followin' the ways of the Romans\n  Play guitars when we buildin' on Mars, in the Issachar bar\n  Me and Priest share similar scars, seven stars\n  Carved into my skin, what's poppin'?\n  It's somethin' much more to that death, of Johnnie Cochran\n  I walk through the valley of kings, like Akhenaton\n  And run up in the Vatican church, without a stockin'\n\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  Musical murder\n\n  It's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\n  Hell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\n  Yo, two years went on I vacation, just\n  One man, defyin' a nation\n  Who else could chop pies in the basement\n  Then turn around and sign with a Mason?\n  Define the relation between crime and inflation\n  Dominicano and Haitian\n  Throw out all your old CDs, me and Hell Razah replaced 'em\n  And now I'm gonna show you how the West Coast rocks\n  Bitches, pull out your titties like Courtney Love\n  I'm like the sidewalk, call me, I support these blocks\n  Scorching hot, jailhouse tatted, four T-Glocks\n  You gon' need morphine shots, the pain is exquisite\n  And your ride or die bitch, I'mma tell Xzibit to pimp it\n  Ha, old nigga, new nigga\n  Tryin' to take the spear of destiny and put it through niggas\n  Crack Da Vinci's code, Ras the black Merovingian\n  Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene's next of kin\n  But in the end, every three seconds a child dies in Africa\n  Genocidal massacre, and rappers know I walk on walls\n  Like tarantula, my flow is cancer, the answer\n  To why you on my dick like a catheter, I laugh at half of ya\n  Mortals can't withstand my velocity\n  I flip the Earth's axis with a spatula, impossibly\n  I'mma crack the surface, Captain Kirk is\n  In the hood like liquor stores and Baptist churches, motherfucker\n  Musical murder\n\n  It's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\n  Hell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  Musical murder\n\n  You are now listening to the sounds of the Renaissance Child\n"},{"id":33101648,"name":"Los Pepes (feat. Bronze)","trackName":"Los Pepes (feat. Bronze)","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":213.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\nYo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) yo, we gotta get this nigga man\n(Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n\nHis name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\nEven could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\nThat grow good enough to make him extra dough\nIn my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n\nSmoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\nGot crooked cops even callin' him boss\nFour lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\nIn a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n\nIn the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\nToo tired, his fears was the best throw off\nTipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\nTell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n\nIn a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\nA mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\nSix o' clock gon' be a door knock\nCheck the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n\nEight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\nThat chauffer is part of the team\nBring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\nI got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n\nWhen ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\nWith a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\nHurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\nWe on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yeah\n\nI'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\nYo, God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\nI'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\nThe Al Green album with me\nMan, it's kinda leary out here\nHurry up!\n\nMeanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\nLookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\nBlendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\nRoll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n\nLook the other way, too many murders in town\nFrom the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\nWalk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n\nSheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\nTook ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\nTold the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\nNotified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n\nNow, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\nSix o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\nPablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n\nTwo hours to do a hand count, please sit still\nLoad the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\nEverything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\nA chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n\nBring the CREAM through the detection machine\nWe insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\nSend one of my doves out to the baggage claim\nLook for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\nHurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\nWe tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n\nI'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\nEscobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\nHis fall from grace is swift\nHis uncle is banished from the political scene\nAnd many of his assets are seized\n\n(Come along, when we to get there?)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.85] What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\n[00:05.09] Yo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) yo, we gotta get this nigga man\n[00:07.73] (Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n[00:10.47] His name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\n[00:12.96] Even could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\n[00:15.95] That grow good enough to make him extra dough\n[00:18.23] In my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n[00:20.95] Smoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\n[00:24.04] Got crooked cops even callin' him boss\n[00:26.10] Four lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\n[00:28.66] In a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n[00:31.37] In the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\n[00:34.01] Too tired, his fears was the best throw off\n[00:36.28] Tipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\n[00:39.05] Tell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n[00:41.51] In a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\n[00:43.93] A mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\n[00:46.41] Six o' clock gon' be a door knock\n[00:48.67] Check the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n[00:51.49] Eight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\n[00:55.29] That chauffer is part of the team\n[00:56.99] Bring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\n[00:59.32] I got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n[01:02.13] When ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\n[01:04.78] With a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\n[01:07.15] Hurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\n[01:09.64] We on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yeah\n[01:12.01] I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[01:15.49] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[01:17.82] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n[01:20.38] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[01:22.85] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[01:25.62] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[01:28.11] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\n[01:30.82] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[01:33.09] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[01:35.87] Yo, God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\n[01:38.35] I'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\n[01:40.34] The Al Green album with me\n[01:41.51] Man, it's kinda leary out here\n[01:42.75] Hurry up!\n[01:42.90] Meanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\n[01:46.28] Lookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\n[01:48.46] Blendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\n[01:50.78] Roll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n[01:53.54] Look the other way, too many murders in town\n[01:55.78] From the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n[01:58.52] 20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\n[02:01.25] Walk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n[02:03.76] Sheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\n[02:06.21] Took ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\n[02:08.95] Told the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\n[02:11.45] Notified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n[02:13.93] Now, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n[02:16.48] 20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\n[02:18.84] Six o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\n[02:21.59] Pablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n[02:24.42] Two hours to do a hand count, please sit still\n[02:26.54] Load the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\n[02:29.38] Everything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\n[02:31.85] A chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n[02:34.63] Bring the CREAM through the detection machine\n[02:36.53] We insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\n[02:39.39] Send one of my doves out to the baggage claim\n[02:41.85] Look for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\n[02:44.65] Hurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\n[02:46.87] We tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n[02:49.72] I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[02:52.71] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[02:55.21] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n[02:57.84] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[03:00.26] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[03:03.02] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[03:05.52] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n[03:08.03] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[03:10.41] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[03:14.17] Escobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\n[03:17.62] His fall from grace is swift\n[03:20.53] His uncle is banished from the political scene\n[03:23.23] And many of his assets are seized\n[03:25.58] (Come along, when we to get there?)\n[03:32.15] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Los Pepes (feat. Bronze)\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 213000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\n  start_ms: 1850\n  end_ms: 5090\n- text: Yo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) yo, we gotta get this nigga man\n  start_ms: 5090\n  end_ms: 7730\n- text: (Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n  start_ms: 7730\n  end_ms: 10470\n- text: His name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\n  start_ms: 10470\n  end_ms: 12960\n- text: Even could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\n  start_ms: 12960\n  end_ms: 15950\n- text: That grow good enough to make him extra dough\n  start_ms: 15950\n  end_ms: 18230\n- text: In my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n  start_ms: 18230\n  end_ms: 20950\n- text: Smoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\n  start_ms: 20950\n  end_ms: 24040\n- text: Got crooked cops even callin' him boss\n  start_ms: 24040\n  end_ms: 26100\n- text: Four lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\n  start_ms: 26100\n  end_ms: 28660\n- text: In a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n  start_ms: 28660\n  end_ms: 31370\n- text: In the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\n  start_ms: 31370\n  end_ms: 34010\n- text: Too tired, his fears was the best throw off\n  start_ms: 34010\n  end_ms: 36280\n- text: Tipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\n  start_ms: 36280\n  end_ms: 39050\n- text: Tell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n  start_ms: 39050\n  end_ms: 41510\n- text: In a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\n  start_ms: 41510\n  end_ms: 43930\n- text: A mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\n  start_ms: 43930\n  end_ms: 46410\n- text: Six o' clock gon' be a door knock\n  start_ms: 46410\n  end_ms: 48670\n- text: Check the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n  start_ms: 48670\n  end_ms: 51490\n- text: Eight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\n  start_ms: 51490\n  end_ms: 55290\n- text: That chauffer is part of the team\n  start_ms: 55290\n  end_ms: 56990\n- text: Bring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\n  start_ms: 56990\n  end_ms: 59320\n- text: I got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n  start_ms: 59320\n  end_ms: 62130\n- text: When ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\n  start_ms: 62130\n  end_ms: 64780\n- text: With a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\n  start_ms: 64780\n  end_ms: 67150\n- text: Hurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\n  start_ms: 67150\n  end_ms: 69640\n- text: We on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yeah\n  start_ms: 69640\n  end_ms: 72010\n- text: I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 72010\n  end_ms: 75490\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 75490\n  end_ms: 77820\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  start_ms: 77820\n  end_ms: 80380\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 80380\n  end_ms: 82850\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 82850\n  end_ms: 85620\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 85620\n  end_ms: 88110\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\n  start_ms: 88110\n  end_ms: 90820\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 90820\n  end_ms: 93090\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 93090\n  end_ms: 95870\n- text: Yo, God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\n  start_ms: 95870\n  end_ms: 98350\n- text: I'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\n  start_ms: 98350\n  end_ms: 100340\n- text: The Al Green album with me\n  start_ms: 100340\n  end_ms: 101510\n- text: Man, it's kinda leary out here\n  start_ms: 101510\n  end_ms: 102750\n- text: Hurry up!\n  start_ms: 102750\n  end_ms: 102900\n- text: Meanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\n  start_ms: 102900\n  end_ms: 106280\n- text: Lookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\n  start_ms: 106280\n  end_ms: 108460\n- text: Blendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\n  start_ms: 108460\n  end_ms: 110780\n- text: Roll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n  start_ms: 110780\n  end_ms: 113540\n- text: Look the other way, too many murders in town\n  start_ms: 113540\n  end_ms: 115780\n- text: From the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n  start_ms: 115780\n  end_ms: 118520\n- text: 20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\n  start_ms: 118520\n  end_ms: 121250\n- text: Walk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n  start_ms: 121250\n  end_ms: 123760\n- text: Sheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\n  start_ms: 123760\n  end_ms: 126210\n- text: Took ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\n  start_ms: 126210\n  end_ms: 128950\n- text: Told the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\n  start_ms: 128950\n  end_ms: 131450\n- text: Notified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n  start_ms: 131450\n  end_ms: 133930\n- text: Now, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n  start_ms: 133930\n  end_ms: 136480\n- text: 20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\n  start_ms: 136480\n  end_ms: 138840\n- text: Six o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\n  start_ms: 138840\n  end_ms: 141590\n- text: Pablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n  start_ms: 141590\n  end_ms: 144420\n- text: Two hours to do a hand count, please sit still\n  start_ms: 144420\n  end_ms: 146540\n- text: Load the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\n  start_ms: 146540\n  end_ms: 149380\n- text: Everything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\n  start_ms: 149380\n  end_ms: 151850\n- text: A chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n  start_ms: 151850\n  end_ms: 154630\n- text: Bring the CREAM through the detection machine\n  start_ms: 154630\n  end_ms: 156530\n- text: We insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\n  start_ms: 156530\n  end_ms: 159390\n- text: Send one of my doves out to the baggage claim\n  start_ms: 159390\n  end_ms: 161850\n- text: Look for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\n  start_ms: 161850\n  end_ms: 164650\n- text: Hurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\n  start_ms: 164650\n  end_ms: 166870\n- text: We tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n  start_ms: 166870\n  end_ms: 169720\n- text: I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 169720\n  end_ms: 172710\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 172710\n  end_ms: 175210\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  start_ms: 175210\n  end_ms: 177840\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 177840\n  end_ms: 180260\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 180260\n  end_ms: 183020\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 183020\n  end_ms: 185520\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  start_ms: 185520\n  end_ms: 188030\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 188030\n  end_ms: 190410\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 190410\n  end_ms: 194170\n- text: Escobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\n  start_ms: 194170\n  end_ms: 197620\n- text: His fall from grace is swift\n  start_ms: 197620\n  end_ms: 200530\n- text: His uncle is banished from the political scene\n  start_ms: 200530\n  end_ms: 203230\n- text: And many of his assets are seized\n  start_ms: 203230\n  end_ms: 205580\n- text: (Come along, when we to get there?)\n  start_ms: 205580\n  end_ms: 212150\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 212150\nplain: |-\n  What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\n  Yo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) yo, we gotta get this nigga man\n  (Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n\n  His name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\n  Even could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\n  That grow good enough to make him extra dough\n  In my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n\n  Smoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\n  Got crooked cops even callin' him boss\n  Four lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\n  In a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n\n  In the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\n  Too tired, his fears was the best throw off\n  Tipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\n  Tell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n\n  In a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\n  A mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\n  Six o' clock gon' be a door knock\n  Check the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n\n  Eight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\n  That chauffer is part of the team\n  Bring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\n  I got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n\n  When ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\n  With a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\n  Hurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\n  We on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yeah\n\n  I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\n  Yo, God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\n  I'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\n  The Al Green album with me\n  Man, it's kinda leary out here\n  Hurry up!\n\n  Meanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\n  Lookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\n  Blendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\n  Roll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n\n  Look the other way, too many murders in town\n  From the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n  20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\n  Walk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n\n  Sheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\n  Took ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\n  Told the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\n  Notified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n\n  Now, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n  20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\n  Six o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\n  Pablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n\n  Two hours to do a hand count, please sit still\n  Load the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\n  Everything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\n  A chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n\n  Bring the CREAM through the detection machine\n  We insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\n  Send one of my doves out to the baggage claim\n  Look for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\n  Hurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\n  We tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n\n  I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\n  Escobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\n  His fall from grace is swift\n  His uncle is banished from the political scene\n  And many of his assets are seized\n\n  (Come along, when we to get there?)\n"},{"id":32545667,"name":"Runaway Sambo","trackName":"Runaway Sambo","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":245.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"They got a bounty on my head, and a tag for your toe\nI'm here to sing a song, 'til they let my people go\nWheel about, turn about, my chrome.44\nEvery time I pull it out it's, \"Fuck Jim Crow\"\n\nIt's like Moses and Pharaoh, now it's the Big-\nIt's like Moses and Pharaoh, now it's the Big App-\nIt's like Moses and Pharaoh, now it's the Big-\nIt's like Moses and Pharaoh, now it's the-\nIt's like Moses and Pharaoh, now it's the Big Apple\nI'm just a runaway slave, these devils can't tackle\nWe slipping out of handcuffs, and breaking out of shackles\nI'm Nat Turner, in the mind of a time capsule\nWe not no Buckwheats or Little Grass Roots\nOr Different Strokes, or whatever have you\nA little fame, a record deal, don't make it freedom\nIf man don't live by bread alone, how we gon' feed 'em?\nSo I choose to bring 'em truth, about the sea of Edom\nBut they swift with cunning words, and they still deceive 'em\nYour best rapper screaming, \"Yes, massa,\" when they beat him\nChris Columbus came with a fungus\nRecognize y'all strength in numbers\nThey went from cowboys to bounty hunters\nThe F.B.I.'s hopping out of Hummers\nTaking your kids, and your grandmothers\nYour niece and nephews, and your baby brothers\nAbraham Lincolns, and nigga lovers\n\nThey try to tell me I can't blow\nCause I ain't tap dancing like Sambo\nMy pants low, from that black market commando\nI stand for righteousness, truth, and straight facts\nWhoever ain't runaway slaves will get snatched\n\nWhile there's wars in Lebanon, I write it like King David in Psalms\nSee I was born to the horns of Saraphon\nIt's Ariel Sharon, the suicide bomb\nNat Turner nightmares, and chasing Uncle Toms\nEl Razi-el, code name be Metatron\nI got 'em open like dope veins, for Methadone\nWithout a right to bear arms, I'm mentally the Don\nYou can't fuck with the God, he's seven bars beyond\nThey love to hate it, and translate it, and read it wrong\nMy definition is non-fiction, I rhyme different\nThan your everyday rap gimmick, design image\nYou invented a clone, a DNA digit\n\nThey try to tell me I can't blow\nCause I ain't tap dancing like Sambo\nMy pants low, from that black market commando\nI stand for righteousness, truth, and straight facts\nWhoever ain't runaway slaves will get snatched\n\nThey got a bounty on my head, and a tag for your toe\nI'm here to sing a song, 'til they let my people go\nWheel about, turn about, my chrome.44\nEvery time I pull it out it's, \"Fuck Jim Crow\"","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Runaway Sambo\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 245000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  They got a bounty on my head, and a tag for your toe\n  I'm here to sing a song, 'til they let my people go\n  Wheel about, turn about, my chrome.44\n  Every time I pull it out it's, \"Fuck Jim Crow\"\n\n  It's like Moses and Pharaoh, now it's the Big-\n  It's like Moses and Pharaoh, now it's the Big App-\n  It's like Moses and Pharaoh, now it's the Big-\n  It's like Moses and Pharaoh, now it's the-\n  It's like Moses and Pharaoh, now it's the Big Apple\n  I'm just a runaway slave, these devils can't tackle\n  We slipping out of handcuffs, and breaking out of shackles\n  I'm Nat Turner, in the mind of a time capsule\n  We not no Buckwheats or Little Grass Roots\n  Or Different Strokes, or whatever have you\n  A little fame, a record deal, don't make it freedom\n  If man don't live by bread alone, how we gon' feed 'em?\n  So I choose to bring 'em truth, about the sea of Edom\n  But they swift with cunning words, and they still deceive 'em\n  Your best rapper screaming, \"Yes, massa,\" when they beat him\n  Chris Columbus came with a fungus\n  Recognize y'all strength in numbers\n  They went from cowboys to bounty hunters\n  The F.B.I.'s hopping out of Hummers\n  Taking your kids, and your grandmothers\n  Your niece and nephews, and your baby brothers\n  Abraham Lincolns, and nigga lovers\n\n  They try to tell me I can't blow\n  Cause I ain't tap dancing like Sambo\n  My pants low, from that black market commando\n  I stand for righteousness, truth, and straight facts\n  Whoever ain't runaway slaves will get snatched\n\n  While there's wars in Lebanon, I write it like King David in Psalms\n  See I was born to the horns of Saraphon\n  It's Ariel Sharon, the suicide bomb\n  Nat Turner nightmares, and chasing Uncle Toms\n  El Razi-el, code name be Metatron\n  I got 'em open like dope veins, for Methadone\n  Without a right to bear arms, I'm mentally the Don\n  You can't fuck with the God, he's seven bars beyond\n  They love to hate it, and translate it, and read it wrong\n  My definition is non-fiction, I rhyme different\n  Than your everyday rap gimmick, design image\n  You invented a clone, a DNA digit\n\n  They try to tell me I can't blow\n  Cause I ain't tap dancing like Sambo\n  My pants low, from that black market commando\n  I stand for righteousness, truth, and straight facts\n  Whoever ain't runaway slaves will get snatched\n\n  They got a bounty on my head, and a tag for your toe\n  I'm here to sing a song, 'til they let my people go\n  Wheel about, turn about, my chrome.44\n  Every time I pull it out it's, \"Fuck Jim Crow\"\n"},{"id":10367892,"name":"Project Jazz","trackName":"Project Jazz","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":226.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Renaissance... Razah Rubies...*\nLet's go, tell 'em\n\nI was born in the era of kings, of heroin dreams\nNow it be a Maccabee, spreading my wings (spread 'em)\nI ain't trippin' off material bling\nI analyze off of Billie Holiday, the queen\nWhat was Marvin Gaye thinking when he wrote that theme\nA Trouble Man, why his pops had a gun his hand, damn\nHip hop go to way back then\nDiddy used to sing doo-wop with two of his friends\nI seen an oo-wop when I was like ten, excited by sin\nI got my first gold front from Ben\nEighty-nine, I was into Rakim, for dropping gems\nMost niggas learned a lot from him\nGrandma used to cook with sounds of Sam Cooke\nMid-60's, my moms then moved to Red\nSame hood Al Capone was put, and got his rep as a crook\nIn them criminal books, we don't look\nA crack hit I could never forget\nIn '92 Mr. Daily was hit by gun clips\nYou had to pump if you wanted some kicks\nThe best product on the block, it was quicker to flip\nWe had whips, but it wasn't legit\nI reminisce, Calvin Klein, he was running the shit\n'76 came a heavenly prince, with one gift\nTo uplift, by the name Charon Smith\n\nDedicated to Miss Caroline Smith\nSpecial love and respect\nTo real true pioneers (yeah), people like Ray Charles (we in here)\nBarry White, let's get back into the hall of fame, come on\n\nYo, yo, it's like we all just beef and the strengths\nSon is blind like a boxer that bleed in the ring\nFrom a cut opened up above his right eye\nBody all black and blue, like the Brooklyn nice guy, uh\nBobbing and weaving, and dodging the propaganda\nMy raps take it back like shopping at Alexander's\nMy momma had the fly afro, my father cooked for a week and left all us with the casarole\nWe didn't have much, but with a little bit of love\nMade due with the little bit we had, yo\nWe in a new millennium, Granny still singing Hem Slow\nJim Crow's still keep the blacks po'\nLook we blessed with the power to move people with music\nIt's the natural resources, and we use it to broadcast and transmit live from hell\nWhat don't kill you, make you stronger, I'm allowed to tell\n\nHurry up, hurry up, hurry up, man\nYo, yo, make sure you write it on the wall\nMake sure it say, Renaissance Child\nTalib Kweli, MF Doom, written for the babies\nLet's go\n\nVik slick talk, with a cough full of North\nOf course New York floss, don't know and blew pork\nBefore you walk across, look both ways\nThe third and the fourth of them nowaday old phase\nKept a dog on a wooden leg and hustled all night in the fog on the red\nEven dressed like a bum and could beg\nInstead use the other on the strength, what a good head\nBeen bred to win, since headspins, ooh them gems\nSpread too thin, depends on who's losing\nHeads do spin, it's deaded, now who's in?\nRevenge all here, enough combined slang to bang all year\nIt's on, like it ain't never been on cordless before\nReport for lawless, ports is off shore\nWith horses, hanging the tablets, mating with rappers\nHabits til they hate 'em and had it, damn it\nAnd it's gone with the wind, dead wrong\nA song, with a spin and a grin\nOut of style, with the blow out for mild mannered smile\nLike a foul wild Spaniard on the soul out\nVaughn, the one you trick-a-don\nWhy stick it, if you gotta slip a snicker on, Viktor Vaughn\n\nYeah, to all the Cadillac riders, and it's on\nAs it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end\nAll the fathers with the godfathers, hip hop lives forever and ever\nAnd ever... this is something you gon' be able to pass down to your babies\nFrom generation to generation, that's right, aight?\nOne love... and we out of here","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.08] Renaissance... Razah Rubies...*\n[00:07.33] Let's go, tell 'em\n[00:08.29] I was born in the era of kings, of heroin dreams\n[00:10.95] Now it be a Maccabee, spreading my wings (spread 'em)\n[00:12.86] I ain't trippin' off material bling\n[00:14.61] I analyze off of Billie Holiday, the queen\n[00:17.38] What was Marvin Gaye thinking when he wrote that theme\n[00:19.18] A Trouble Man, why his pops had a gun his hand, damn\n[00:21.89] Hip hop go to way back then\n[00:22.71] Diddy used to sing doo-wop with two of his friends\n[00:25.40] I seen an oo-wop when I was like ten, excited by sin\n[00:27.22] I got my first gold front from Ben\n[00:30.09] Eighty-nine, I was into Rakim, for dropping gems\n[00:31.86] Most niggas learned a lot from him\n[00:33.62] Grandma used to cook with sounds of Sam Cooke\n[00:36.33] Mid-60's, my moms then moved to Red\n[00:38.15] Same hood Al Capone was put, and got his rep as a crook\n[00:40.80] In them criminal books, we don't look\n[00:42.61] A crack hit I could never forget\n[00:44.44] In '92 Mr. Daily was hit by gun clips\n[00:46.20] You had to pump if you wanted some kicks\n[00:48.04] The best product on the block, it was quicker to flip\n[00:50.72] We had whips, but it wasn't legit\n[00:52.57] I reminisce, Calvin Klein, he was running the shit\n[00:54.31] '76 came a heavenly prince, with one gift\n[00:57.13] To uplift, by the name Charon Smith\n[00:58.92] Dedicated to Miss Caroline Smith\n[01:03.43] Special love and respect\n[01:06.11] To real true pioneers (yeah), people like Ray Charles (we in here)\n[01:12.44] Barry White, let's get back into the hall of fame, come on\n[01:15.18] Yo, yo, it's like we all just beef and the strengths\n[01:17.90] Son is blind like a boxer that bleed in the ring\n[01:19.79] From a cut opened up above his right eye\n[01:21.58] Body all black and blue, like the Brooklyn nice guy, uh\n[01:24.25] Bobbing and weaving, and dodging the propaganda\n[01:26.04] My raps take it back like shopping at Alexander's\n[01:28.79] My momma had the fly afro, my father cooked for a week and left all us with the casarole\n[01:32.34] We didn't have much, but with a little bit of love\n[01:35.01] Made due with the little bit we had, yo\n[01:36.89] We in a new millennium, Granny still singing Hem Slow\n[01:39.65] Jim Crow's still keep the blacks po'\n[01:41.42] Look we blessed with the power to move people with music\n[01:43.22] It's the natural resources, and we use it to broadcast and transmit live from hell\n[01:46.84] What don't kill you, make you stronger, I'm allowed to tell\n[01:48.68] Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, man\n[01:53.14] Yo, yo, make sure you write it on the wall\n[01:56.88] Make sure it say, Renaissance Child\n[02:00.44] Talib Kweli, MF Doom, written for the babies\n[02:04.94] Let's go\n[02:05.89] Vik slick talk, with a cough full of North\n[02:08.59] Of course New York floss, don't know and blew pork\n[02:10.35] Before you walk across, look both ways\n[02:12.14] The third and the fourth of them nowaday old phase\n[02:14.82] Kept a dog on a wooden leg and hustled all night in the fog on the red\n[02:18.53] Even dressed like a bum and could beg\n[02:21.26] Instead use the other on the strength, what a good head\n[02:23.05] Been bred to win, since headspins, ooh them gems\n[02:27.55] Spread too thin, depends on who's losing\n[02:29.30] Heads do spin, it's deaded, now who's in?\n[02:31.17] Revenge all here, enough combined slang to bang all year\n[02:35.60] It's on, like it ain't never been on cordless before\n[02:37.49] Report for lawless, ports is off shore\n[02:39.36] With horses, hanging the tablets, mating with rappers\n[02:42.99] Habits til they hate 'em and had it, damn it\n[02:44.77] And it's gone with the wind, dead wrong\n[02:46.52] A song, with a spin and a grin\n[02:48.32] Out of style, with the blow out for mild mannered smile\n[02:50.17] Like a foul wild Spaniard on the soul out\n[02:52.86] Vaughn, the one you trick-a-don\n[02:53.74] Why stick it, if you gotta slip a snicker on, Viktor Vaughn\n[02:56.56] Yeah, to all the Cadillac riders, and it's on\n[03:04.71] As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end\n[03:08.36] All the fathers with the godfathers, hip hop lives forever and ever\n[03:11.98] And ever... this is something you gon' be able to pass down to your babies\n[03:17.46] From generation to generation, that's right, aight?\n[03:21.95] One love... and we out of here\n[03:36.43] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Project Jazz\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 226000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Renaissance... Razah Rubies...*\n  start_ms: 80\n  end_ms: 7330\n- text: Let's go, tell 'em\n  start_ms: 7330\n  end_ms: 8290\n- text: I was born in the era of kings, of heroin dreams\n  start_ms: 8290\n  end_ms: 10950\n- text: Now it be a Maccabee, spreading my wings (spread 'em)\n  start_ms: 10950\n  end_ms: 12860\n- text: I ain't trippin' off material bling\n  start_ms: 12860\n  end_ms: 14610\n- text: I analyze off of Billie Holiday, the queen\n  start_ms: 14610\n  end_ms: 17380\n- text: What was Marvin Gaye thinking when he wrote that theme\n  start_ms: 17380\n  end_ms: 19180\n- text: A Trouble Man, why his pops had a gun his hand, damn\n  start_ms: 19180\n  end_ms: 21890\n- text: Hip hop go to way back then\n  start_ms: 21890\n  end_ms: 22710\n- text: Diddy used to sing doo-wop with two of his friends\n  start_ms: 22710\n  end_ms: 25400\n- text: I seen an oo-wop when I was like ten, excited by sin\n  start_ms: 25400\n  end_ms: 27220\n- text: I got my first gold front from Ben\n  start_ms: 27220\n  end_ms: 30090\n- text: Eighty-nine, I was into Rakim, for dropping gems\n  start_ms: 30090\n  end_ms: 31860\n- text: Most niggas learned a lot from him\n  start_ms: 31860\n  end_ms: 33620\n- text: Grandma used to cook with sounds of Sam Cooke\n  start_ms: 33620\n  end_ms: 36330\n- text: Mid-60's, my moms then moved to Red\n  start_ms: 36330\n  end_ms: 38150\n- text: Same hood Al Capone was put, and got his rep as a crook\n  start_ms: 38150\n  end_ms: 40800\n- text: In them criminal books, we don't look\n  start_ms: 40800\n  end_ms: 42610\n- text: A crack hit I could never forget\n  start_ms: 42610\n  end_ms: 44440\n- text: In '92 Mr. Daily was hit by gun clips\n  start_ms: 44440\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: You had to pump if you wanted some kicks\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48040\n- text: The best product on the block, it was quicker to flip\n  start_ms: 48040\n  end_ms: 50720\n- text: We had whips, but it wasn't legit\n  start_ms: 50720\n  end_ms: 52570\n- text: I reminisce, Calvin Klein, he was running the shit\n  start_ms: 52570\n  end_ms: 54310\n- text: '''76 came a heavenly prince, with one gift'\n  start_ms: 54310\n  end_ms: 57130\n- text: To uplift, by the name Charon Smith\n  start_ms: 57130\n  end_ms: 58920\n- text: Dedicated to Miss Caroline Smith\n  start_ms: 58920\n  end_ms: 63430\n- text: Special love and respect\n  start_ms: 63430\n  end_ms: 66110\n- text: To real true pioneers (yeah), people like Ray Charles (we in here)\n  start_ms: 66110\n  end_ms: 72440\n- text: Barry White, let's get back into the hall of fame, come on\n  start_ms: 72440\n  end_ms: 75180\n- text: Yo, yo, it's like we all just beef and the strengths\n  start_ms: 75180\n  end_ms: 77900\n- text: Son is blind like a boxer that bleed in the ring\n  start_ms: 77900\n  end_ms: 79790\n- text: From a cut opened up above his right eye\n  start_ms: 79790\n  end_ms: 81580\n- text: Body all black and blue, like the Brooklyn nice guy, uh\n  start_ms: 81580\n  end_ms: 84250\n- text: Bobbing and weaving, and dodging the propaganda\n  start_ms: 84250\n  end_ms: 86040\n- text: My raps take it back like shopping at Alexander's\n  start_ms: 86040\n  end_ms: 88790\n- text: My momma had the fly afro, my father cooked for a week and left all us with the casarole\n  start_ms: 88790\n  end_ms: 92340\n- text: We didn't have much, but with a little bit of love\n  start_ms: 92340\n  end_ms: 95010\n- text: Made due with the little bit we had, yo\n  start_ms: 95010\n  end_ms: 96890\n- text: We in a new millennium, Granny still singing Hem Slow\n  start_ms: 96890\n  end_ms: 99650\n- text: Jim Crow's still keep the blacks po'\n  start_ms: 99650\n  end_ms: 101420\n- text: Look we blessed with the power to move people with music\n  start_ms: 101420\n  end_ms: 103220\n- text: It's the natural resources, and we use it to broadcast and transmit live from hell\n  start_ms: 103220\n  end_ms: 106840\n- text: What don't kill you, make you stronger, I'm allowed to tell\n  start_ms: 106840\n  end_ms: 108680\n- text: Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, man\n  start_ms: 108680\n  end_ms: 113140\n- text: Yo, yo, make sure you write it on the wall\n  start_ms: 113140\n  end_ms: 116880\n- text: Make sure it say, Renaissance Child\n  start_ms: 116880\n  end_ms: 120440\n- text: Talib Kweli, MF Doom, written for the babies\n  start_ms: 120440\n  end_ms: 124940\n- text: Let's go\n  start_ms: 124940\n  end_ms: 125890\n- text: Vik slick talk, with a cough full of North\n  start_ms: 125890\n  end_ms: 128590\n- text: Of course New York floss, don't know and blew pork\n  start_ms: 128590\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: Before you walk across, look both ways\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 132140\n- text: The third and the fourth of them nowaday old phase\n  start_ms: 132140\n  end_ms: 134820\n- text: Kept a dog on a wooden leg and hustled all night in the fog on the red\n  start_ms: 134820\n  end_ms: 138530\n- text: Even dressed like a bum and could beg\n  start_ms: 138530\n  end_ms: 141260\n- text: Instead use the other on the strength, what a good head\n  start_ms: 141260\n  end_ms: 143050\n- text: Been bred to win, since headspins, ooh them gems\n  start_ms: 143050\n  end_ms: 147550\n- text: Spread too thin, depends on who's losing\n  start_ms: 147550\n  end_ms: 149300\n- text: Heads do spin, it's deaded, now who's in?\n  start_ms: 149300\n  end_ms: 151170\n- text: Revenge all here, enough combined slang to bang all year\n  start_ms: 151170\n  end_ms: 155600\n- text: It's on, like it ain't never been on cordless before\n  start_ms: 155600\n  end_ms: 157490\n- text: Report for lawless, ports is off shore\n  start_ms: 157490\n  end_ms: 159360\n- text: With horses, hanging the tablets, mating with rappers\n  start_ms: 159360\n  end_ms: 162990\n- text: Habits til they hate 'em and had it, damn it\n  start_ms: 162990\n  end_ms: 164770\n- text: And it's gone with the wind, dead wrong\n  start_ms: 164770\n  end_ms: 166520\n- text: A song, with a spin and a grin\n  start_ms: 166520\n  end_ms: 168320\n- text: Out of style, with the blow out for mild mannered smile\n  start_ms: 168320\n  end_ms: 170170\n- text: Like a foul wild Spaniard on the soul out\n  start_ms: 170170\n  end_ms: 172860\n- text: Vaughn, the one you trick-a-don\n  start_ms: 172860\n  end_ms: 173740\n- text: Why stick it, if you gotta slip a snicker on, Viktor Vaughn\n  start_ms: 173740\n  end_ms: 176560\n- text: Yeah, to all the Cadillac riders, and it's on\n  start_ms: 176560\n  end_ms: 184710\n- text: As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end\n  start_ms: 184710\n  end_ms: 188360\n- text: All the fathers with the godfathers, hip hop lives forever and ever\n  start_ms: 188360\n  end_ms: 191980\n- text: And ever... this is something you gon' be able to pass down to your babies\n  start_ms: 191980\n  end_ms: 197460\n- text: From generation to generation, that's right, aight?\n  start_ms: 197460\n  end_ms: 201950\n- text: One love... and we out of here\n  start_ms: 201950\n  end_ms: 216430\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 216430\nplain: |-\n  Renaissance... Razah Rubies...*\n  Let's go, tell 'em\n\n  I was born in the era of kings, of heroin dreams\n  Now it be a Maccabee, spreading my wings (spread 'em)\n  I ain't trippin' off material bling\n  I analyze off of Billie Holiday, the queen\n  What was Marvin Gaye thinking when he wrote that theme\n  A Trouble Man, why his pops had a gun his hand, damn\n  Hip hop go to way back then\n  Diddy used to sing doo-wop with two of his friends\n  I seen an oo-wop when I was like ten, excited by sin\n  I got my first gold front from Ben\n  Eighty-nine, I was into Rakim, for dropping gems\n  Most niggas learned a lot from him\n  Grandma used to cook with sounds of Sam Cooke\n  Mid-60's, my moms then moved to Red\n  Same hood Al Capone was put, and got his rep as a crook\n  In them criminal books, we don't look\n  A crack hit I could never forget\n  In '92 Mr. Daily was hit by gun clips\n  You had to pump if you wanted some kicks\n  The best product on the block, it was quicker to flip\n  We had whips, but it wasn't legit\n  I reminisce, Calvin Klein, he was running the shit\n  '76 came a heavenly prince, with one gift\n  To uplift, by the name Charon Smith\n\n  Dedicated to Miss Caroline Smith\n  Special love and respect\n  To real true pioneers (yeah), people like Ray Charles (we in here)\n  Barry White, let's get back into the hall of fame, come on\n\n  Yo, yo, it's like we all just beef and the strengths\n  Son is blind like a boxer that bleed in the ring\n  From a cut opened up above his right eye\n  Body all black and blue, like the Brooklyn nice guy, uh\n  Bobbing and weaving, and dodging the propaganda\n  My raps take it back like shopping at Alexander's\n  My momma had the fly afro, my father cooked for a week and left all us with the casarole\n  We didn't have much, but with a little bit of love\n  Made due with the little bit we had, yo\n  We in a new millennium, Granny still singing Hem Slow\n  Jim Crow's still keep the blacks po'\n  Look we blessed with the power to move people with music\n  It's the natural resources, and we use it to broadcast and transmit live from hell\n  What don't kill you, make you stronger, I'm allowed to tell\n\n  Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, man\n  Yo, yo, make sure you write it on the wall\n  Make sure it say, Renaissance Child\n  Talib Kweli, MF Doom, written for the babies\n  Let's go\n\n  Vik slick talk, with a cough full of North\n  Of course New York floss, don't know and blew pork\n  Before you walk across, look both ways\n  The third and the fourth of them nowaday old phase\n  Kept a dog on a wooden leg and hustled all night in the fog on the red\n  Even dressed like a bum and could beg\n  Instead use the other on the strength, what a good head\n  Been bred to win, since headspins, ooh them gems\n  Spread too thin, depends on who's losing\n  Heads do spin, it's deaded, now who's in?\n  Revenge all here, enough combined slang to bang all year\n  It's on, like it ain't never been on cordless before\n  Report for lawless, ports is off shore\n  With horses, hanging the tablets, mating with rappers\n  Habits til they hate 'em and had it, damn it\n  And it's gone with the wind, dead wrong\n  A song, with a spin and a grin\n  Out of style, with the blow out for mild mannered smile\n  Like a foul wild Spaniard on the soul out\n  Vaughn, the one you trick-a-don\n  Why stick it, if you gotta slip a snicker on, Viktor Vaughn\n\n  Yeah, to all the Cadillac riders, and it's on\n  As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end\n  All the fathers with the godfathers, hip hop lives forever and ever\n  And ever... this is something you gon' be able to pass down to your babies\n  From generation to generation, that's right, aight?\n  One love... and we out of here\n"},{"id":12459756,"name":"Buried Alive","trackName":"Buried Alive","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":302.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"[Movie sample:]\n\"What did you mean when you said we were all dead?\"\n\"Do you ever think two times before you do anything?\"\n\"You ever think about what we want to do?\"\n\"And how to get it passed the white man?\"\n\"We don't live life, we survive through life\"\n\n[Intro: Hell Razah]\nNu Kemet, Renaissance Child, raise the dead\nYea, Godz wrath, I'm back niggaz, (about to bury niggaz)\nOpen my casket, brush it off, brush that shit\nWipe the dirt off my shoulder, let's go\n\n[Hook: Hell Razah]\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Yea)\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Yea)\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\"\nIt don't matter if you're rich, is you ready to die?\nYou can tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes (Yea)\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\"\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\"\n\n[Verse 1: Hell Razah]\nI ain't dead son, my mind was in Solomon's Tomb\nNo diva's like Queen of Sheba, who be swallowin' shrooms\nBlair Witches from the hood, who don't ride on no brooms\nJust hard dick, wit a G-pack in hotel rooms\nI'm back, holdin' that ratchet, y'all left it on my casket\nA rap kid that opened up my CD plastic\nAnother birth of a MC classic\nI Hell Raz' the dead, when I speak to the masses\nI'm like. Embalming fluids in Champagne glasses\nThey say my name backwards in toast to they soldiers\nI let a Zombie beside wipe the dirt off my shoulder\nWe be Pyramid builders, we be dealin' wit boulders\nWhen I shine, it's Supernova's that be hoverin' over\nWrote a Scripture on your tombstone, in the ink of a cobra\nTossin' niggaz off the ship, if they think they're Jonah\nWe payin' Hospital visits, if they're layin' in coma's\nSpit a verse on the corner, that be strong as Ammonia\nRed Hook to Demona, we snuffin' slave owners\nEven if it's chain gang, we got a shank on us\nIt's Maccabee, bang-bang, get a tank on us\nBlack Market military, project cemeteries\nRhymes be obituaries, simple as a dictionary\nDraw it like it's pictionary, blacker than The Mother Mary\nRenaissance Icon, each bar legendary\nY'all lookin' like the Blue Notes did, when they ain't have Teddy\nCome and get me, if y'all really ready, some for Armageddy\n\n[Hook: Hell Razah]\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Fuck 'em)\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Yea)\nThe crack game want me \"Buried Alive\" (You know)\nYou cant tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes\nIt don't matter if you're rich, is you ready to die?\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\"\n\n[Verse 2: Hell Razah]\nFor dead men walkin', I wrote this in they mental coffin\nKill your first borns off, wit a verbal abortion\nI'm written in stone in the project, valley and dry bones\nYou were made like eye-clone sittin' in my throne (Get up)\nI play a skeleton bones like it's xylophone (Brrrriinnnng)\nFor that money, my mummy strapped wit a lot of chrome\nIt's flat line, dial tone wake 'em up, daddy's home\nThey can bury my flesh, but can't bury my soul\nI ain't atlas, but could carry the globe\nI stroll wearin' my gray clothes, draggin' my robe\nTo a cipher, like a seance, and kick you a poem\nTurn the club to a catacomb, wit bloods on the dance floor\nGot models like Jezebel, takin' they pants off\nI'm tucked to common with fine diamonds, surrounded by violence\nArchaeologist grave robbin' in silence\nInvaded by those British tyrants, like Howard Carter\nI do this for Saints of Martyrs, and our father\nDustin' off an old revolver, I'll let the cylinder turn\nAnd henny burn, that I sip in the urn\nI draw it first then cremated, so remember the words\nIt's either one God you serve, or you can sleep wit the worms (Yea)\n\n[Hook: Hell Razah]\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Ha-ha)\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (They wanna bury me man)\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\"\nIt don't matter if you're rich, is you ready to die?\nYou can tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes (Look at me man)\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (You know I'm comin' for y'all niggaz)\nThis rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Look at my fuckin' eyes man, this shit\nis all real)\n\n[Outro: Hell Razah]\nNiggaz thought I was gon' rest in peace\nBut I'ma rise in peace, know'what'I'm'sayin'?\nThis goes out to all them fake ass record companies\nAnd them fake ass record labels\nWho thought they was just gon' toss some fuckin' dirt on our grave\nAnd walk out the door with our masks and shit, know'what'Im'sayin'?\n'Naw man, we gon' hunt y'all niggaz down man\nWe gon' hunt y'all niggaz for the rest of y'all life man\nThe last niggaz that did shit to us, the studio burned down\nThe last label that did some shit to us, they had to file bankrupcy\nFeel me?, we not playin' no fuckin' game no mo' man, Maccabees\nNiggaz want us \"Buried Alive\", y'all want us \"Buried Alive\"\nWe gon' write rhymes underground, in the underworld\nOn a fuckin' tombstones, inside the caskets\nThat's Mental Caskets though, 'cause y'all niggaz is mentally dead\nIt's the return of the livin' dead man","syncedLyrics":"[00:04.41]\"What did you mean when you said we were all dead?\"\n[00:09.86]\"We have to think two times before we do anything. We have\n[00:16.38]To think about what we wanna do, and how to get it past\n[00:20.96]The white man. We don't live life, we survive through it\"\n[00:31.69]New Kemet, Renaissance Child, Raise the Dead\n[00:35.37]Yeah, God's Wrath, I'm back niggas\n[00:38.35]Where to bury me?\n[00:39.68]Open my casket, wipe the dirt off my shoulder, let's go\n[00:43.24]This rap game want me buried alive, yeah\n[00:46.12]This rap game want me buried alive, yeah\n[00:49.12]This rap game want me buried alive\n[00:51.58]It don't matter if you rich, is you ready to die?\n[00:54.47]You can tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes, yeah\n[00:57.94]This rap game want me buried alive\n[01:00.86]This rap game want me buried alive\n[01:03.35]I ain't dead son, my mind was in Solomon tombs\n[01:06.24]Know divas like Queen of Sheba, who be swallowin' shrooms\n[01:09.10]Blair Witches from the hood, who don't ride on no brooms\n[01:11.96]Just hard dick, with a G-pack, in hotel rooms\n[01:15.01]I'm back, holdin' that ratchet, y'all left at my casket\n[01:18.17]A rap kid to open up my CD plastic\n[01:21.53]Another birth, of a MC classic\n[01:24.18]I Hell Raise the Dead, when I speak to the masses\n[01:26.71]I'm like, embalming fluid in champagne glasses\n[01:29.94]They say my name backwards, and toast to they soldiers\n[01:32.52]I let a zombie beside me, wipe the dirt off my shoulder\n[01:35.71]We be pyramid builders, we be dealin' with boulders\n[01:38.66]When I shine a supernovas, that be hoverin' over\n[01:41.56]Wrote a scripture on your tombstone, in the ink of a cobra\n[01:44.45]Tossin' niggas off the ship, if they thinkin' they Jonah\n[01:47.31]We payin' hospital visits, if they layin' in comas\n[01:50.47]Spit a verse on the corner, that be strong as ammonia\n[01:53.22]From Red Hook to Demona, we snuffin' slave owners\n[01:56.79]Even if it's chain gang, we got a shank on us\n[01:59.43]It's Maccabee, bang bang, get a tank on us\n[02:02.52]Black market military, project cemeteries\n[02:05.57]Rhymes be obituaries, simple as a dictionary\n[02:08.49]Drawin' like it's Pictionary, blacker than the mother Mary\n[02:11.40]Renaissance icon, each bar legendary\n[02:14.11]Y'all lookin' like the Blue Notes did, when they ain't have Teddy\n[02:17.13]Come and get me, if y'all really ready, son for Armageddey\n[02:20.32]This rap game want me buried alive (fuck 'em)\n[02:23.40]This rap game want me buried alive (yeah)\n[02:26.29]The crack game want me buried alive\n[02:28.76]You can tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes\n[02:31.66]It don't matter if you rich, is you ready to die\n[02:35.04]This rap game want me buried alive\n[02:37.31]For dead man walkin', I wrote this in they mental coffin\n[02:40.57]Kill ya firstborns off, with a verbal abortion\n[02:43.21]I'm written in stone in the project, valley of dry bones\n[02:46.62]You made like a iClone, sittin' in my throne (get 'em)\n[02:49.84]I play your skeleton bones, like it's a xylophone\n[02:52.94]For that money, my mummy strapped with a lot of chrome\n[02:55.31]It's flatline, dial tone, wake 'em up, daddy's home\n[02:58.85]They can bury my flesh, but can't bury my soul\n[03:01.88]I ain't Atlas, but can carry the globe\n[03:03.93]I stroll, wearin' my grave clothes, draggin' my robe\n[03:07.06]To a cipher like a seance, and kick you a poem\n[03:09.95]Turn the club to a catacomb, with blood on the dance floor\n[03:13.09]Got models like Jezebel, takin' they pants off\n[03:16.32]I'm Tutankhamun with fine diamonds, surrounded by violence\n[03:19.56]Archaeologists grave robbin' in silence\n[03:21.87]Invaded by those British tyrants, like Howard Carter\n[03:24.85]I do this for the saints and martyrs, and our father\n[03:27.96]Dustin' off a old revolver, I let the cylinder turn\n[03:31.10]And Henny burn, that I sip in the urn\n[03:33.37]I draw first then cremate it, so remember the words\n[03:36.23]It's either one God you serve, or you can sleep with the worms, yeah\n[03:39.80]This rap game want me buried alive (haha)\n[03:42.87]This rap game want me buried alive (they wanna bury me man)\n[03:46.35]This rap game want me buried alive\n[03:48.22]It don't matter if you rich, is you ready to die?\n[03:51.10]You can tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes\n[03:54.25](Look at me man, you know I'm comin' for y'all niggas)\n[03:55.71]This rap game want me buried alive\n[03:56.87](Look at my fuckin' eyes man, this shit is all real)\n[03:59.41]This rap game want me buried alive\n[04:00.56]Niggas thought I was gon' rest in peace, but I'ma rise in peace\n[04:04.68]Knahmsayin? This goes out to all them fake ass record companies\n[04:07.99]And them fake ass record labels, who thought they was just gon'\n[04:10.77]Toss some fuckin' dirt on our grave, and walk out the door with our\n[04:14.10]Masters and shit, knahmsayin? Nah man, we gon' hunt y'all niggas\n[04:18.73]Down man, we gon' haunt y'all niggas for the rest of y'all life man\n[04:22.51]The last niggas that did some shit to us, the studio burnt down\n[04:26.61]The last label that did some shit to us, they had to file bankruptcy\n[04:31.28]Feel me? We not playin' no fuckin' games no more man. Maccabees\n[04:36.00]Niggas want us buried alive, y'all want us buried alive, we gon'\n[04:39.65]Write rhymes underground, in the underworld, on the fuckin'\n[04:43.65]Tombstones, inside the caskets, that's, that's\n[04:47.45]Mental caskets though, 'cause y'all niggas is\n[04:49.85]Mentally dead. It's the return of the living dead man","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Buried Alive\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 302000\n  instrumental: false\n  language: en\nlines:\n- text: '\"What did you mean when you said we were all dead?\"'\n  start_ms: 4410\n  end_ms: 9790\n  words:\n  - text: '\"What '\n    start_ms: 4450\n  - text: 'did '\n    start_ms: 4590\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 4770\n  - text: 'mean '\n    start_ms: 4910\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 5150\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 5310\n  - text: 'said '\n    start_ms: 5490\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 5750\n  - text: 'were '\n    start_ms: 5890\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 6330\n  - text: dead?\"\n    start_ms: 6730\n- text: '\"We have to think two times before we do anything. 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'\n    start_ms: 21418\n  - text: 'We '\n    start_ms: 28127\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 28226\n  - text: 'live '\n    start_ms: 28565\n  - text: 'life, '\n    start_ms: 28983\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 29341\n  - text: 'survive '\n    start_ms: 29500\n  - text: 'through '\n    start_ms: 30257\n  - text: it\"\n    start_ms: 30595\n- text: New Kemet, Renaissance Child, Raise the Dead\n  start_ms: 31690\n  end_ms: 35350\n  words:\n  - text: 'New '\n    start_ms: 31690\n  - text: 'Kemet, '\n    start_ms: 31970\n  - text: 'Renaissance '\n    start_ms: 33090\n  - text: 'Child, '\n    start_ms: 33830\n  - text: 'Raise '\n    start_ms: 34590\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 34850\n  - text: Dead\n    start_ms: 35010\n- text: Yeah, God's Wrath, I'm back niggas\n  start_ms: 35370\n  end_ms: 38350\n  words:\n  - text: 'Yeah, '\n    start_ms: 35370\n  - text: 'God''s '\n    start_ms: 36034\n  - text: 'Wrath, '\n    start_ms: 36406\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 37324\n  - text: 'back '\n    start_ms: 37500\n  - 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text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 64870\n  - text: 'Solomon '\n    start_ms: 65110\n  - text: tombs\n    start_ms: 65630\n- text: Know divas like Queen of Sheba, who be swallowin' shrooms\n  start_ms: 66240\n  end_ms: 69100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Know '\n    start_ms: 66240\n  - text: 'divas '\n    start_ms: 66455\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 66788\n  - text: 'Queen '\n    start_ms: 66945\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 67161\n  - text: 'Sheba, '\n    start_ms: 67278\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 67670\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 67827\n  - text: 'swallowin'' '\n    start_ms: 67983\n  - text: shrooms\n    start_ms: 68473\n- text: Blair Witches from the hood, who don't ride on no brooms\n  start_ms: 69100\n  end_ms: 71860\n  words:\n  - text: 'Blair '\n    start_ms: 69100\n  - text: 'Witches '\n    start_ms: 69440\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 69820\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 70020\n  - text: 'hood, '\n    start_ms: 70160\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 70620\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 70740\n  - text: 'ride '\n    start_ms: 70940\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 71160\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 71260\n  - text: brooms\n    start_ms: 71480\n- text: Just hard dick, with a G-pack, in hotel rooms\n  start_ms: 71960\n  end_ms: 75010\n  words:\n  - text: 'Just '\n    start_ms: 71960\n  - text: 'hard '\n    start_ms: 72176\n  - text: 'dick, '\n    start_ms: 72511\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 72905\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 73062\n  - text: G-\n    start_ms: 73200\n  - text: 'pack, '\n    start_ms: 73475\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 73849\n  - text: 'hotel '\n    start_ms: 73967\n  - text: rooms\n    start_ms: 74498\n- text: I'm back, holdin' that ratchet, y'all left at my casket\n  start_ms: 75010\n  end_ms: 78120\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 75010\n  - text: 'back, '\n    start_ms: 75290\n  - text: 'holdin'' '\n    start_ms: 75590\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 75930\n  - text: 'ratchet, '\n    start_ms: 76170\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 76670\n  - text: 'left '\n    start_ms: 76870\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 77070\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 77190\n  - text: casket\n    start_ms: 77410\n- text: A rap kid to open up my CD plastic\n  start_ms: 78170\n  end_ms: 81530\n  words:\n  - text: 'A '\n    start_ms: 78170\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 78446\n  - text: 'kid '\n    start_ms: 78741\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 78998\n  - text: 'open '\n    start_ms: 79195\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 79549\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 79668\n  - text: 'CD '\n    start_ms: 79904\n  - text: plastic\n    start_ms: 80397\n- text: Another birth, of a MC classic\n  start_ms: 81530\n  end_ms: 84140\n  words:\n  - text: 'Another '\n    start_ms: 81530\n  - text: 'birth, '\n    start_ms: 82030\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 82510\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 82650\n  - text: 'MC '\n    start_ms: 82870\n  - text: classic\n    start_ms: 83310\n- text: I Hell Raise the Dead, when I speak to the masses\n  start_ms: 84180\n  end_ms: 86710\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 84180\n  - text: 'Hell '\n    start_ms: 84313\n  - text: 'Raise '\n    start_ms: 84579\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 84808\n  - text: 'Dead, '\n    start_ms: 84998\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 85321\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 85493\n  - text: 'speak '\n    start_ms: 85664\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 85873\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 85987\n  - text: masses\n    start_ms: 86158\n- text: I'm like, embalming fluid in champagne glasses\n  start_ms: 86710\n  end_ms: 89900\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 86710\n  - text: 'like, '\n    start_ms: 86850\n  - text: 'embalming '\n    start_ms: 87330\n  - text: 'fluid '\n    start_ms: 87910\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 88290\n  - text: 'champagne '\n    start_ms: 88510\n  - text: glasses\n    start_ms: 89090\n- text: They say my name backwards, and toast to they soldiers\n  start_ms: 89940\n  end_ms: 92520\n  words:\n  - text: 'They '\n    start_ms: 89940\n  - text: 'say '\n    start_ms: 90119\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 90319\n  - text: 'name '\n    start_ms: 90478\n  - text: 'backwards, '\n    start_ms: 90817\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 91335\n  - text: 'toast '\n    start_ms: 91494\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 91753\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 91853\n  - text: soldiers\n    start_ms: 92072\n- text: I let a zombie beside me, wipe the dirt off my shoulder\n  start_ms: 92520\n  end_ms: 95700\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 92520\n  - text: 'let '\n    start_ms: 92660\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 92860\n  - text: 'zombie '\n    start_ms: 93040\n  - text: 'beside '\n    start_ms: 93580\n  - text: 'me, '\n    start_ms: 94080\n  - text: 'wipe '\n    start_ms: 94120\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 94320\n  - text: 'dirt '\n    start_ms: 94500\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 94720\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 94860\n  - text: shoulder\n    start_ms: 95040\n- text: We be pyramid builders, we be dealin' with boulders\n  start_ms: 95710\n  end_ms: 98560\n  words:\n  - text: 'We '\n    start_ms: 95710\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 95810\n  - text: 'pyramid '\n    start_ms: 96030\n  - text: 'builders, '\n    start_ms: 96650\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 97110\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 97250\n  - text: 'dealin'' '\n    start_ms: 97450\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 97750\n  - text: boulders\n    start_ms: 97930\n- text: When I shine a supernovas, that be hoverin' over\n  start_ms: 98660\n  end_ms: 101560\n  words:\n  - text: 'When '\n    start_ms: 98660\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 98858\n  - text: 'shine '\n    start_ms: 98997\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 99274\n  - text: 'supernovas, '\n    start_ms: 99412\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 100125\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 100303\n  - text: 'hoverin'' '\n    start_ms: 100481\n  - text: over\n    start_ms: 101016\n- text: Wrote a scripture on your tombstone, in the ink of a cobra\n  start_ms: 101560\n  end_ms: 104450\n  words:\n  - text: 'Wrote '\n    start_ms: 101560\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 101778\n  - text: 'scripture '\n    start_ms: 101918\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 102315\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 102434\n  - text: 'tombstone, '\n    start_ms: 102633\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 103248\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 103387\n  - text: 'ink '\n    start_ms: 103427\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 103626\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 103765\n  - text: cobra\n    start_ms: 103904\n- text: Tossin' niggas off the ship, if they thinkin' they Jonah\n  start_ms: 104450\n  end_ms: 107310\n  words:\n  - text: 'Tossin'' '\n    start_ms: 104450\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 104881\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 105234\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 105390\n  - text: 'ship, '\n    start_ms: 105547\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 106017\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 106135\n  - text: 'thinkin'' '\n    start_ms: 106331\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 106624\n  - text: Jonah\n    start_ms: 106820\n- text: We payin' hospital visits, if they layin' in comas\n  start_ms: 107310\n  end_ms: 110440\n  words:\n  - text: 'We '\n    start_ms: 107310\n  - text: 'payin'' '\n    start_ms: 107450\n  - text: 'hospital '\n    start_ms: 107730\n  - text: 'visits, '\n    start_ms: 108410\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 108950\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 109050\n  - text: 'layin'' '\n    start_ms: 109250\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 109550\n  - text: comas\n    start_ms: 109710\n- text: Spit a verse on the corner, that be strong as ammonia\n  start_ms: 110470\n  end_ms: 113220\n  words:\n  - text: 'Spit '\n    start_ms: 110470\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 110588\n  - text: 'verse '\n    start_ms: 110726\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 111081\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 111219\n  - text: 'corner, '\n    start_ms: 111357\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 111850\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 112027\n  - text: 'strong '\n    start_ms: 112165\n  - text: 'as '\n    start_ms: 112422\n  - text: ammonia\n    start_ms: 112560\n- text: From Red Hook to Demona, we snuffin' slave owners\n  start_ms: 113220\n  end_ms: 116640\n  words:\n  - text: 'From '\n    start_ms: 113220\n  - text: 'Red '\n    start_ms: 113490\n  - text: 'Hook '\n    start_ms: 113640\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 113940\n  - text: 'Demona, '\n    start_ms: 114140\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 114900\n  - text: 'snuffin'' '\n    start_ms: 115060\n  - text: 'slave '\n    start_ms: 115520\n  - text: owners\n    start_ms: 115900\n- text: Even if it's chain gang, we got a shank on us\n  start_ms: 116790\n  end_ms: 119430\n  words:\n  - text: 'Even '\n    start_ms: 116790\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 117074\n  - text: 'it''s '\n    start_ms: 117225\n  - text: 'chain '\n    start_ms: 117415\n  - text: 'gang, '\n    start_ms: 117736\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 117982\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 118134\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 118323\n  - text: 'shank '\n    start_ms: 118474\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 118853\n  - text: us\n    start_ms: 119004\n- text: It's Maccabee, bang bang, get a tank on us\n  start_ms: 119430\n  end_ms: 122500\n  words:\n  - text: 'It''s '\n    start_ms: 119430\n  - text: 'Maccabee, '\n    start_ms: 119610\n  - text: 'bang '\n    start_ms: 120310\n  - text: 'bang, '\n    start_ms: 120670\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 121050\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 121190\n  - text: 'tank '\n    start_ms: 121390\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 121770\n  - text: us\n    start_ms: 121970\n- text: Black market military, project cemeteries\n  start_ms: 122520\n  end_ms: 125500\n  words:\n  - text: 'Black '\n    start_ms: 122520\n  - text: 'market '\n    start_ms: 122820\n  - text: 'military, '\n    start_ms: 123220\n  - text: 'project '\n    start_ms: 124060\n  - text: cemeteries\n    start_ms: 124640\n- text: Rhymes be obituaries, simple as a dictionary\n  start_ms: 125570\n  end_ms: 128490\n  words:\n  - text: 'Rhymes '\n    start_ms: 125570\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 125946\n  - text: 'obituaries, '\n    start_ms: 126085\n  - text: 'simple '\n    start_ms: 127075\n  - text: 'as '\n    start_ms: 127431\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 127589\n  - text: dictionary\n    start_ms: 127688\n- text: Drawin' like it's Pictionary, blacker than the mother Mary\n  start_ms: 128490\n  end_ms: 131400\n  words:\n  - text: 'Drawin'' '\n    start_ms: 128490\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 128800\n  - text: 'it''s '\n    start_ms: 128956\n  - text: 'Pictionary, '\n    start_ms: 129130\n  - text: 'blacker '\n    start_ms: 129926\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 130255\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 130411\n  - text: 'mother '\n    start_ms: 130546\n  - text: Mary\n    start_ms: 130837\n- text: Renaissance icon, each bar legendary\n  start_ms: 131400\n  end_ms: 134040\n  words:\n  - text: 'Renaissance '\n    start_ms: 131400\n  - text: 'icon, '\n    start_ms: 132100\n  - text: 'each '\n    start_ms: 132820\n  - text: 'bar '\n    start_ms: 133120\n  - text: legendary\n    start_ms: 133440\n- text: Y'all lookin' like the Blue Notes did, when they ain't have Teddy\n  start_ms: 134110\n  end_ms: 137130\n  words:\n  - text: 'Y''all '\n    start_ms: 134110\n  - text: 'lookin'' '\n    start_ms: 134307\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 134602\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 134799\n  - text: 'Blue '\n    start_ms: 134956\n  - text: 'Notes '\n    start_ms: 135192\n  - text: 'did, '\n    start_ms: 135527\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 135959\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 136117\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 136274\n  - text: 'have '\n    start_ms: 136432\n  - text: Teddy\n    start_ms: 136746\n- text: Come and get me, if y'all really ready, son for Armageddey\n  start_ms: 137130\n  end_ms: 140290\n  words:\n  - text: 'Come '\n    start_ms: 137130\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 137330\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 137510\n  - text: 'me, '\n    start_ms: 137690\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 137930\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 138090\n  - text: 'really '\n    start_ms: 138270\n  - text: 'ready, '\n    start_ms: 138610\n  - text: 'son '\n    start_ms: 138950\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 139170\n  - text: Armageddey\n    start_ms: 139370\n- text: This rap game want me buried alive (fuck 'em)\n  start_ms: 140320\n  end_ms: 143400\n  words:\n  - text: 'This '\n    start_ms: 140320\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 140576\n  - text: 'game '\n    start_ms: 140910\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 141245\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 141422\n  - text: 'buried '\n    start_ms: 141619\n  - text: 'alive '\n    start_ms: 142013\n  - text: '(fuck '\n    start_ms: 142662\n  - text: '''em)'\n    start_ms: 143139\n- text: This rap game want me buried alive (yeah)\n  start_ms: 143400\n  end_ms: 146180\n  words:\n  - text: 'This '\n    start_ms: 143400\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 143520\n  - text: 'game '\n    start_ms: 143840\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 144160\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 144320\n  - text: 'buried '\n    start_ms: 144520\n  - text: 'alive '\n    start_ms: 144920\n  - text: (yeah)\n    start_ms: 145600\n- text: The crack game want me buried alive\n  start_ms: 146290\n  end_ms: 148760\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 146290\n  - text: 'crack '\n    start_ms: 146427\n  - text: 'game '\n    start_ms: 146819\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 147153\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 147329\n  - text: 'buried '\n    start_ms: 147545\n  - text: alive\n    start_ms: 147937\n- text: You can tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes\n  start_ms: 148760\n  end_ms: 151620\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 148760\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 148860\n  - text: 'tell '\n    start_ms: 149040\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 149400\n  - text: 'survived '\n    start_ms: 149540\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 150100\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 150260\n  - text: 'dirt '\n    start_ms: 150440\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 150660\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 150780\n  - text: eyes\n    start_ms: 151020\n- text: It don't matter if you rich, is you ready to die\n  start_ms: 151660\n  end_ms: 155010\n  words:\n  - text: 'It '\n    start_ms: 151660\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 151760\n  - text: 'matter '\n    start_ms: 151980\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 152360\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 152540\n  - text: 'rich, '\n    start_ms: 152740\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 153120\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 153260\n  - text: 'ready '\n    start_ms: 153460\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 153740\n  - text: die\n    start_ms: 153960\n- text: This rap game want me buried alive\n  start_ms: 155040\n  end_ms: 157310\n  words:\n  - text: 'This '\n    start_ms: 155040\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 155374\n  - text: 'game '\n    start_ms: 155708\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 156023\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 156200\n  - text: 'buried '\n    start_ms: 156396\n  - text: alive\n    start_ms: 156789\n- text: For dead man walkin', I wrote this in they mental coffin\n  start_ms: 157310\n  end_ms: 160570\n  words:\n  - text: 'For '\n    start_ms: 157310\n  - text: 'dead '\n    start_ms: 157588\n  - text: 'man '\n    start_ms: 157886\n  - text: 'walkin'', '\n    start_ms: 158125\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 158542\n  - text: 'wrote '\n    start_ms: 158662\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 158920\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 159119\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 159238\n  - text: 'mental '\n    start_ms: 159437\n  - text: coffin\n    start_ms: 159874\n- text: Kill ya firstborns off, with a verbal abortion\n  start_ms: 160570\n  end_ms: 163190\n  words:\n  - text: 'Kill '\n    start_ms: 160570\n  - text: 'ya '\n    start_ms: 160690\n  - text: 'firstborns '\n    start_ms: 160890\n  - text: 'off, '\n    start_ms: 161590\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 162010\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 162150\n  - text: 'verbal '\n    start_ms: 162290\n  - text: abortion\n    start_ms: 162650\n- text: I'm written in stone in the project, valley of dry bones\n  start_ms: 163210\n  end_ms: 166620\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 163210\n  - text: 'written '\n    start_ms: 163370\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 163710\n  - text: 'stone '\n    start_ms: 163910\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 164230\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 164330\n  - text: 'project, '\n    start_ms: 164490\n  - text: 'valley '\n    start_ms: 165310\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 165630\n  - text: 'dry '\n    start_ms: 165770\n  - text: bones\n    start_ms: 166110\n- text: You made like a iClone, sittin' in my throne (get 'em)\n  start_ms: 166620\n  end_ms: 169800\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 166620\n  - text: 'made '\n    start_ms: 166800\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 167080\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 167300\n  - text: 'iClone, '\n    start_ms: 167500\n  - text: 'sittin'' '\n    start_ms: 168200\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 168560\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 168720\n  - text: 'throne '\n    start_ms: 169000\n  - text: '(get '\n    start_ms: 169540\n  - text: '''em)'\n    start_ms: 169790\n- text: I play your skeleton bones, like it's a xylophone\n  start_ms: 169840\n  end_ms: 172940\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 169840\n  - text: 'play '\n    start_ms: 170038\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 170216\n  - text: 'skeleton '\n    start_ms: 170335\n  - text: 'bones, '\n    start_ms: 170949\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 171306\n  - text: 'it''s '\n    start_ms: 171484\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 171662\n  - text: xylophone\n    start_ms: 171821\n- text: For that money, my mummy strapped with a lot of chrome\n  start_ms: 172940\n  end_ms: 175310\n  words:\n  - text: 'For '\n    start_ms: 172940\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 173116\n  - text: 'money, '\n    start_ms: 173351\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 173645\n  - text: 'mummy '\n    start_ms: 173841\n  - text: 'strapped '\n    start_ms: 174194\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 174448\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 174585\n  - text: 'lot '\n    start_ms: 174703\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 174879\n  - text: chrome\n    start_ms: 175016\n- text: It's flatline, dial tone, wake 'em up, daddy's home\n  start_ms: 175310\n  end_ms: 178760\n  words:\n  - text: 'It''s '\n    start_ms: 175310\n  - text: 'flatline, '\n    start_ms: 175510\n  - text: 'dial '\n    start_ms: 176290\n  - text: 'tone, '\n    start_ms: 176630\n  - text: 'wake '\n    start_ms: 176970\n  - text: '''em '\n    start_ms: 177250\n  - text: 'up, '\n    start_ms: 177430\n  - text: 'daddy''s '\n    start_ms: 177650\n  - text: home\n    start_ms: 178050\n- text: They can bury my flesh, but can't bury my soul\n  start_ms: 178850\n  end_ms: 181870\n  words:\n  - text: 'They '\n    start_ms: 178850\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 179050\n  - text: 'bury '\n    start_ms: 179250\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 179550\n  - text: 'flesh, '\n    start_ms: 179770\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 180250\n  - text: 'can''t '\n    start_ms: 180430\n  - text: 'bury '\n    start_ms: 180730\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 181030\n  - text: soul\n    start_ms: 181270\n- text: I ain't Atlas, but can carry the globe\n  start_ms: 181880\n  end_ms: 183930\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 181880\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 182017\n  - text: 'Atlas, '\n    start_ms: 182251\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 182563\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 182739\n  - text: 'carry '\n    start_ms: 182934\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 183247\n  - text: globe\n    start_ms: 183403\n- text: I stroll, wearin' my grave clothes, draggin' my robe\n  start_ms: 183930\n  end_ms: 187060\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 183930\n  - text: 'stroll, '\n    start_ms: 184170\n  - text: 'wearin'' '\n    start_ms: 184630\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 184910\n  - text: 'grave '\n    start_ms: 185110\n  - text: 'clothes, '\n    start_ms: 185450\n  - text: 'draggin'' '\n    start_ms: 185850\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 186210\n  - text: robe\n    start_ms: 186430\n- text: To a cipher like a seance, and kick you a poem\n  start_ms: 187060\n  end_ms: 189930\n  words:\n  - text: 'To '\n    start_ms: 187060\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 187200\n  - text: 'cipher '\n    start_ms: 187340\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 187700\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 187900\n  - text: 'seance, '\n    start_ms: 188060\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 188600\n  - text: 'kick '\n    start_ms: 188760\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 188980\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 189120\n  - text: poem\n    start_ms: 189280\n- text: Turn the club to a catacomb, with blood on the dance floor\n  start_ms: 189950\n  end_ms: 193090\n  words:\n  - text: 'Turn '\n    start_ms: 189950\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 190150\n  - text: 'club '\n    start_ms: 190290\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 190650\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 190830\n  - text: 'catacomb, '\n    start_ms: 190970\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 191590\n  - text: 'blood '\n    start_ms: 191790\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 191990\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 192090\n  - text: 'dance '\n    start_ms: 192290\n  - text: floor\n    start_ms: 192630\n- text: Got models like Jezebel, takin' they pants off\n  start_ms: 193090\n  end_ms: 196320\n  words:\n  - text: 'Got '\n    start_ms: 193090\n  - text: 'models '\n    start_ms: 193269\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 193668\n  - text: 'Jezebel, '\n    start_ms: 193927\n  - text: 'takin'' '\n    start_ms: 194785\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 195084\n  - text: 'pants '\n    start_ms: 195283\n  - text: off\n    start_ms: 195722\n- text: I'm Tutankhamun with fine diamonds, surrounded by violence\n  start_ms: 196320\n  end_ms: 199560\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 196320\n  - text: 'Tutankhamun '\n    start_ms: 196556\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 197226\n  - text: 'fine '\n    start_ms: 197462\n  - text: 'diamonds, '\n    start_ms: 197738\n  - text: 'surrounded '\n    start_ms: 198152\n  - text: 'by '\n    start_ms: 198624\n  - text: violence\n    start_ms: 198880\n- text: Archaeologists grave robbin' in silence\n  start_ms: 199560\n  end_ms: 201820\n  words:\n  - text: 'Archaeologists '\n    start_ms: 199560\n  - text: 'grave '\n    start_ms: 200300\n  - text: 'robbin'' '\n    start_ms: 200680\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 201020\n  - text: silence\n    start_ms: 201200\n- text: Invaded by those British tyrants, like Howard Carter\n  start_ms: 201870\n  end_ms: 204850\n  words:\n  - text: 'Invaded '\n    start_ms: 201870\n  - text: 'by '\n    start_ms: 202362\n  - text: 'those '\n    start_ms: 202499\n  - text: 'British '\n    start_ms: 202716\n  - text: 'tyrants, '\n    start_ms: 203070\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 203719\n  - text: 'Howard '\n    start_ms: 203876\n  - text: Carter\n    start_ms: 204230\n- text: I do this for the saints and martyrs, and our father\n  start_ms: 204850\n  end_ms: 207960\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 204850\n  - text: 'do '\n    start_ms: 205019\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 205110\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 205290\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 205470\n  - text: 'saints '\n    start_ms: 205610\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 205870\n  - text: 'martyrs, '\n    start_ms: 206030\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 206690\n  - text: 'our '\n    start_ms: 206890\n  - text: father\n    start_ms: 207170\n- text: Dustin' off a old revolver, I let the cylinder turn\n  start_ms: 207960\n  end_ms: 211100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Dustin'' '\n    start_ms: 207960\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 208298\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 208516\n  - text: 'old '\n    start_ms: 208636\n  - text: 'revolver, '\n    start_ms: 208834\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 209649\n  - text: 'let '\n    start_ms: 209729\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 209908\n  - text: 'cylinder '\n    start_ms: 210106\n  - text: turn\n    start_ms: 210603\n- text: And Henny burn, that I sip in the urn\n  start_ms: 211100\n  end_ms: 213290\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 211100\n  - text: 'Henny '\n    start_ms: 211220\n  - text: 'burn, '\n    start_ms: 211580\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 211940\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 212120\n  - text: 'sip '\n    start_ms: 212280\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 212500\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 212620\n  - text: urn\n    start_ms: 212840\n- text: I draw first then cremate it, so remember the words\n  start_ms: 213370\n  end_ms: 216230\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 213370\n  - text: 'draw '\n    start_ms: 213469\n  - text: 'first '\n    start_ms: 213824\n  - text: 'then '\n    start_ms: 214060\n  - text: 'cremate '\n    start_ms: 214238\n  - text: 'it, '\n    start_ms: 214731\n  - text: 'so '\n    start_ms: 214987\n  - text: 'remember '\n    start_ms: 215165\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 215599\n  - text: words\n    start_ms: 215776\n- text: It's either one God you serve, or you can sleep with the worms, yeah\n  start_ms: 216230\n  end_ms: 219800\n  words:\n  - text: 'It''s '\n    start_ms: 216230\n  - text: 'either '\n    start_ms: 216468\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 216805\n  - text: 'God '\n    start_ms: 217043\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 217301\n  - text: 'serve, '\n    start_ms: 217499\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 217797\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 217896\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 217995\n  - text: 'sleep '\n    start_ms: 218194\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 218432\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 218570\n  - text: 'worms, '\n    start_ms: 218749\n  - text: yeah\n    start_ms: 219324\n- text: This rap game want me buried alive (haha)\n  start_ms: 219800\n  end_ms: 222800\n  words:\n  - text: 'This '\n    start_ms: 219800\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 220100\n  - text: 'game '\n    start_ms: 220420\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 220760\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 220940\n  - text: 'buried '\n    start_ms: 221140\n  - text: 'alive '\n    start_ms: 221520\n  - text: (haha)\n    start_ms: 222200\n- text: This rap game want me buried alive (they wanna bury me man)\n  start_ms: 222870\n  end_ms: 226350\n  words:\n  - text: 'This '\n    start_ms: 222870\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 223126\n  - text: 'game '\n    start_ms: 223440\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 223755\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 223932\n  - text: 'buried '\n    start_ms: 224148\n  - text: 'alive '\n    start_ms: 224522\n  - text: '(they '\n    start_ms: 224934\n  - text: 'wanna '\n    start_ms: 225131\n  - text: 'bury '\n    start_ms: 225406\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 225721\n  - text: man)\n    start_ms: 225917\n- text: This rap game want me buried alive\n  start_ms: 226350\n  end_ms: 228210\n  words:\n  - text: 'This '\n    start_ms: 226350\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 226455\n  - text: 'game '\n    start_ms: 226545\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 226650\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 226830\n  - text: 'buried '\n    start_ms: 227030\n  - text: alive\n    start_ms: 227410\n- text: It don't matter if you rich, is you ready to die?\n  start_ms: 228220\n  end_ms: 231090\n  words:\n  - text: 'It '\n    start_ms: 228220\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 228320\n  - text: 'matter '\n    start_ms: 228560\n  - text: 'if '\n    start_ms: 228900\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 229080\n  - text: 'rich, '\n    start_ms: 229280\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 229660\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 229800\n  - text: 'ready '\n    start_ms: 229980\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 230280\n  - text: die?\n    start_ms: 230480\n- text: You can tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes\n  start_ms: 231100\n  end_ms: 234250\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 231100\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 231299\n  - text: 'tell '\n    start_ms: 231519\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 231858\n  - text: 'survived '\n    start_ms: 232017\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 232456\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 232715\n  - text: 'dirt '\n    start_ms: 232894\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 233054\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 233074\n  - text: eyes\n    start_ms: 233492\n- text: (Look at me man, you know I'm comin' for y'all niggas)\n  start_ms: 234250\n  end_ms: 235700\n  words:\n  - text: '(Look '\n    start_ms: 234250\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 234382\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 234406\n  - text: 'man, '\n    start_ms: 234430\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 234454\n  - text: 'know '\n    start_ms: 234477\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 234550\n  - text: 'comin'' '\n    start_ms: 234710\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 234830\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 235130\n  - text: niggas)\n    start_ms: 235350\n- text: This rap game want me buried alive\n  start_ms: 235710\n  end_ms: 236810\n  words:\n  - text: 'This '\n    start_ms: 235710\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 235870\n  - text: 'game '\n    start_ms: 236090\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 236170\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 236370\n  - text: 'buried '\n    start_ms: 236460\n  - text: alive\n    start_ms: 236550\n- text: (Look at my fuckin' eyes man, this shit is all real)\n  start_ms: 236870\n  end_ms: 239410\n  words:\n  - text: '(Look '\n    start_ms: 236870\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 237103\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 237219\n  - text: 'fuckin'' '\n    start_ms: 237452\n  - text: 'eyes '\n    start_ms: 237781\n  - text: 'man, '\n    start_ms: 238169\n  - text: 'this '\n    start_ms: 238382\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 238537\n  - text: 'is '\n    start_ms: 238693\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 238809\n  - text: real)\n    start_ms: 239139\n- text: This rap game want me buried alive\n  start_ms: 239410\n  end_ms: 240530\n  words:\n  - text: 'This '\n    start_ms: 239410\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 239590\n  - text: 'game '\n    start_ms: 239730\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 239890\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 240060\n  - text: 'buried '\n    start_ms: 240110\n  - text: alive\n    start_ms: 240420\n- text: Niggas thought I was gon' rest in peace, but I'ma rise in peace\n  start_ms: 240560\n  end_ms: 244670\n  words:\n  - text: 'Niggas '\n    start_ms: 240560\n  - text: 'thought '\n    start_ms: 240760\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 240960\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 241040\n  - text: 'gon'' '\n    start_ms: 241180\n  - text: 'rest '\n    start_ms: 241420\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 241660\n  - text: 'peace, '\n    start_ms: 241860\n  - text: 'but '\n    start_ms: 242700\n  - text: 'I''ma '\n    start_ms: 242860\n  - text: 'rise '\n    start_ms: 243100\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 243480\n  - text: peace\n    start_ms: 243660\n- text: Knahmsayin? This goes out to all them fake ass record companies\n  start_ms: 244680\n  end_ms: 247990\n  words:\n  - text: 'Knahmsayin? '\n    start_ms: 244680\n  - text: 'This '\n    start_ms: 245198\n  - text: 'goes '\n    start_ms: 245338\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 245637\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 245797\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 245896\n  - text: 'them '\n    start_ms: 245976\n  - text: 'fake '\n    start_ms: 246255\n  - text: 'ass '\n    start_ms: 246594\n  - text: 'record '\n    start_ms: 246833\n  - text: companies\n    start_ms: 247172\n- text: And them fake ass record labels, who thought they was just gon'\n  start_ms: 247990\n  end_ms: 250770\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 247990\n  - text: 'them '\n    start_ms: 248082\n  - text: 'fake '\n    start_ms: 248209\n  - text: 'ass '\n    start_ms: 248528\n  - text: 'record '\n    start_ms: 248767\n  - text: 'labels, '\n    start_ms: 249066\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 249684\n  - text: 'thought '\n    start_ms: 249823\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 250023\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 250162\n  - text: 'just '\n    start_ms: 250302\n  - text: gon'\n    start_ms: 250461\n- text: Toss some fuckin' dirt on our grave, and walk out the door with our\n  start_ms: 250770\n  end_ms: 254100\n  words:\n  - text: 'Toss '\n    start_ms: 250770\n  - text: 'some '\n    start_ms: 251069\n  - text: 'fuckin'' '\n    start_ms: 251269\n  - text: 'dirt '\n    start_ms: 251627\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 251867\n  - text: 'our '\n    start_ms: 252006\n  - text: 'grave, '\n    start_ms: 252186\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 252824\n  - text: 'walk '\n    start_ms: 252983\n  - text: 'out '\n    start_ms: 253243\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 253402\n  - text: 'door '\n    start_ms: 253562\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 253761\n  - text: our\n    start_ms: 253901\n- text: Masters and shit, knahmsayin? Nah man, we gon' hunt y'all niggas\n  start_ms: 254100\n  end_ms: 258710\n  words:\n  - text: 'Masters '\n    start_ms: 254100\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 254560\n  - text: 'shit, '\n    start_ms: 254740\n  - text: 'knahmsayin? '\n    start_ms: 255320\n  - text: 'Nah '\n    start_ms: 256620\n  - text: 'man, '\n    start_ms: 256960\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 257540\n  - text: 'gon'' '\n    start_ms: 257660\n  - text: 'hunt '\n    start_ms: 257900\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 258159\n  - text: niggas\n    start_ms: 258400\n- text: Down man, we gon' haunt y'all niggas for the rest of y'all life man\n  start_ms: 258730\n  end_ms: 262510\n  words:\n  - text: 'Down '\n    start_ms: 258730\n  - text: 'man, '\n    start_ms: 259083\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 259515\n  - text: 'gon'' '\n    start_ms: 259653\n  - text: 'haunt '\n    start_ms: 259889\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 260163\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 260340\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 260615\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 260733\n  - text: 'rest '\n    start_ms: 260870\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 261086\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 261224\n  - text: 'life '\n    start_ms: 261558\n  - text: man\n    start_ms: 261872\n- text: The last niggas that did some shit to us, the studio burnt down\n  start_ms: 262510\n  end_ms: 266610\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 262510\n  - text: 'last '\n    start_ms: 262650\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 262950\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 263210\n  - text: 'did '\n    start_ms: 263390\n  - text: 'some '\n    start_ms: 263590\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 263790\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 264050\n  - text: 'us, '\n    start_ms: 264250\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 264670\n  - text: 'studio '\n    start_ms: 264910\n  - text: 'burnt '\n    start_ms: 265450\n  - text: down\n    start_ms: 265750\n- text: The last label that did some shit to us, they had to file bankruptcy\n  start_ms: 266610\n  end_ms: 271130\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 266610\n  - text: 'last '\n    start_ms: 266750\n  - text: 'label '\n    start_ms: 267070\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 267370\n  - text: 'did '\n    start_ms: 267570\n  - text: 'some '\n    start_ms: 267790\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 267990\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 268270\n  - text: 'us, '\n    start_ms: 268470\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 269090\n  - text: 'had '\n    start_ms: 269210\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 269350\n  - text: 'file '\n    start_ms: 269530\n  - text: bankruptcy\n    start_ms: 269890\n- text: Feel me? We not playin' no fuckin' games no more man. Maccabees\n  start_ms: 271280\n  end_ms: 276000\n  words:\n  - text: 'Feel '\n    start_ms: 271280\n  - text: 'me? '\n    start_ms: 271536\n  - text: 'We '\n    start_ms: 272165\n  - text: 'not '\n    start_ms: 272283\n  - text: 'playin'' '\n    start_ms: 272499\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 272755\n  - text: 'fuckin'' '\n    start_ms: 272952\n  - text: 'games '\n    start_ms: 273325\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 273640\n  - text: 'more '\n    start_ms: 273817\n  - text: 'man. '\n    start_ms: 274053\n  - text: Maccabees\n    start_ms: 274623\n- text: Niggas want us buried alive, y'all want us buried alive, we gon'\n  start_ms: 276000\n  end_ms: 279650\n  words:\n  - text: 'Niggas '\n    start_ms: 276000\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 276359\n  - text: 'us '\n    start_ms: 276519\n  - text: 'buried '\n    start_ms: 276698\n  - text: 'alive, '\n    start_ms: 276997\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 278274\n  - text: 'want '\n    start_ms: 278413\n  - text: 'us '\n    start_ms: 278573\n  - text: 'buried '\n    start_ms: 278713\n  - text: 'alive, '\n    start_ms: 278992\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 279371\n  - text: gon'\n    start_ms: 279470\n- text: Write rhymes underground, in the underworld, on the fuckin'\n  start_ms: 279650\n  end_ms: 283620\n  words:\n  - text: 'Write '\n    start_ms: 279650\n  - text: 'rhymes '\n    start_ms: 279930\n  - text: 'underground, '\n    start_ms: 280230\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 281210\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 281310\n  - text: 'underworld, '\n    start_ms: 281450\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 283030\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 283110\n  - text: fuckin'\n    start_ms: 283270\n- text: Tombstones, inside the caskets, that's, that's\n  start_ms: 283650\n  end_ms: 287450\n  words:\n  - text: 'Tombstones, '\n    start_ms: 283650\n  - text: 'inside '\n    start_ms: 285134\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 285491\n  - text: 'caskets, '\n    start_ms: 285649\n  - text: 'that''s, '\n    start_ms: 286836\n  - text: that's\n    start_ms: 287212\n- text: Mental caskets though, 'cause y'all niggas is\n  start_ms: 287450\n  end_ms: 289800\n  words:\n  - text: 'Mental '\n    start_ms: 287450\n  - text: 'caskets '\n    start_ms: 287790\n  - text: 'though, '\n    start_ms: 288290\n  - text: '''cause '\n    start_ms: 288990\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 289170\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 289350\n  - text: is\n    start_ms: 289610\n- text: Mentally dead. It's the return of the living dead man\n  start_ms: 289850\n  end_ms: 302270\n  words:\n  - text: 'Mentally '\n    start_ms: 289850\n  - text: 'dead. '\n    start_ms: 290310\n  - text: 'It''s '\n    start_ms: 291250\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 291390\n  - text: 'return '\n    start_ms: 291510\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 291890\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 291970\n  - text: 'living '\n    start_ms: 292090\n  - text: 'dead '\n    start_ms: 292390\n  - text: man\n    start_ms: 292690\nplain: |-\n  [Movie sample:]\n  \"What did you mean when you said we were all dead?\"\n  \"Do you ever think two times before you do anything?\"\n  \"You ever think about what we want to do?\"\n  \"And how to get it passed the white man?\"\n  \"We don't live life, we survive through life\"\n\n  [Intro: Hell Razah]\n  Nu Kemet, Renaissance Child, raise the dead\n  Yea, Godz wrath, I'm back niggaz, (about to bury niggaz)\n  Open my casket, brush it off, brush that shit\n  Wipe the dirt off my shoulder, let's go\n\n  [Hook: Hell Razah]\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Yea)\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Yea)\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\"\n  It don't matter if you're rich, is you ready to die?\n  You can tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes (Yea)\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\"\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\"\n\n  [Verse 1: Hell Razah]\n  I ain't dead son, my mind was in Solomon's Tomb\n  No diva's like Queen of Sheba, who be swallowin' shrooms\n  Blair Witches from the hood, who don't ride on no brooms\n  Just hard dick, wit a G-pack in hotel rooms\n  I'm back, holdin' that ratchet, y'all left it on my casket\n  A rap kid that opened up my CD plastic\n  Another birth of a MC classic\n  I Hell Raz' the dead, when I speak to the masses\n  I'm like. Embalming fluids in Champagne glasses\n  They say my name backwards in toast to they soldiers\n  I let a Zombie beside wipe the dirt off my shoulder\n  We be Pyramid builders, we be dealin' wit boulders\n  When I shine, it's Supernova's that be hoverin' over\n  Wrote a Scripture on your tombstone, in the ink of a cobra\n  Tossin' niggaz off the ship, if they think they're Jonah\n  We payin' Hospital visits, if they're layin' in coma's\n  Spit a verse on the corner, that be strong as Ammonia\n  Red Hook to Demona, we snuffin' slave owners\n  Even if it's chain gang, we got a shank on us\n  It's Maccabee, bang-bang, get a tank on us\n  Black Market military, project cemeteries\n  Rhymes be obituaries, simple as a dictionary\n  Draw it like it's pictionary, blacker than The Mother Mary\n  Renaissance Icon, each bar legendary\n  Y'all lookin' like the Blue Notes did, when they ain't have Teddy\n  Come and get me, if y'all really ready, some for Armageddy\n\n  [Hook: Hell Razah]\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Fuck 'em)\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Yea)\n  The crack game want me \"Buried Alive\" (You know)\n  You cant tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes\n  It don't matter if you're rich, is you ready to die?\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\"\n\n  [Verse 2: Hell Razah]\n  For dead men walkin', I wrote this in they mental coffin\n  Kill your first borns off, wit a verbal abortion\n  I'm written in stone in the project, valley and dry bones\n  You were made like eye-clone sittin' in my throne (Get up)\n  I play a skeleton bones like it's xylophone (Brrrriinnnng)\n  For that money, my mummy strapped wit a lot of chrome\n  It's flat line, dial tone wake 'em up, daddy's home\n  They can bury my flesh, but can't bury my soul\n  I ain't atlas, but could carry the globe\n  I stroll wearin' my gray clothes, draggin' my robe\n  To a cipher, like a seance, and kick you a poem\n  Turn the club to a catacomb, wit bloods on the dance floor\n  Got models like Jezebel, takin' they pants off\n  I'm tucked to common with fine diamonds, surrounded by violence\n  Archaeologist grave robbin' in silence\n  Invaded by those British tyrants, like Howard Carter\n  I do this for Saints of Martyrs, and our father\n  Dustin' off an old revolver, I'll let the cylinder turn\n  And henny burn, that I sip in the urn\n  I draw it first then cremated, so remember the words\n  It's either one God you serve, or you can sleep wit the worms (Yea)\n\n  [Hook: Hell Razah]\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Ha-ha)\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (They wanna bury me man)\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\"\n  It don't matter if you're rich, is you ready to die?\n  You can tell I survived from the dirt in my eyes (Look at me man)\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (You know I'm comin' for y'all niggaz)\n  This rap game want me \"Buried Alive\" (Look at my fuckin' eyes man, this shit\n  is all real)\n\n  [Outro: Hell Razah]\n  Niggaz thought I was gon' rest in peace\n  But I'ma rise in peace, know'what'I'm'sayin'?\n  This goes out to all them fake ass record companies\n  And them fake ass record labels\n  Who thought they was just gon' toss some fuckin' dirt on our grave\n  And walk out the door with our masks and shit, know'what'Im'sayin'?\n  'Naw man, we gon' hunt y'all niggaz down man\n  We gon' hunt y'all niggaz for the rest of y'all life man\n  The last niggaz that did shit to us, the studio burned down\n  The last label that did some shit to us, they had to file bankrupcy\n  Feel me?, we not playin' no fuckin' game no mo' man, Maccabees\n  Niggaz want us \"Buried Alive\", y'all want us \"Buried Alive\"\n  We gon' write rhymes underground, in the underworld\n  On a fuckin' tombstones, inside the caskets\n  That's Mental Caskets though, 'cause y'all niggaz is mentally dead\n  It's the return of the livin' dead man\n"},{"id":26466112,"name":"Glow","trackName":"Glow","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":204.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Uh huh\nThis shit is funky right here\nYou know what it is right?\nThey don't want to see us blow\nThey don't want to see us go\nThey don't want to see us blow\nHell no, no\nWe move as the end the way we came in the door\nHit the club, I'ma leave with your hoe\nHo, ho\nMy flames be hot every time that I throw\nAin't nothing new son, I did this before\nG-G-O\nMy niggas flip money like it ain't no mo'\nVessel of friends, but it ain't no mo'\n\nFor the lust of currency, they put they trust in this country\nAll your friends be cunningly when they hungry\nJealousy wanna stop the profit\nNiggas hate to see money in our pockets\nBut we don't knock it\nSouls get sold like stock markets\nRegardless, we been heartless\nWith or without revolvers\nWe been this way before Godfathers\nOr Al Pacino\nCatch me with blacks and latinos\nJamaicans, Mexicans, Malcom X again with a pen\nSet a trend, watch you and your friend go copy it\nGot Boriqua screaming how papi is sick\nThe illest shorty on the floppy disk, watch me eclipse\nSurpass and outshine all that light you get\nFirst you live, then you breathe it out, write it and spit\nAnd I'ma leave with the same deeds I came in with\nYou can't die with no riches you got\nThe bitches you got\nEnjoy life before it could stop, it's too short\nWhat's hip hop without New York\nYou should've thought\nI seen brothers get they face cut over Newports\nStick up kids who live for you to take your shoes off\nWe got lawyers working for us that'll lie in the court\nStill repent even if Christ ain't die on the cross\nGamble life like a dice game\nHead crack or roll aces\nDeath pays off your sin wages\nThis take place on a weekly basis\nIn this business of handshakes and smiling faces\nHatred from a whole ghetto made us racist\nExclusive, got fanatics, can't wait to tape it\nSpiritual, so a secret agent can't trace it\nBlessed be the souls seek patience\nWe ain't too far from y'all, start to worship or go pagan\nIt's the God in the form of Satan\nUntil nation rise against nation\nYou got wars and more rumors of wars, it's yours truly\nEvery track out, I drop jewelry\nI'm reality, not a movie\nYou be a sitcom, I sit calm while hip hop sit in my palm\nLet me hear a rhyme that ain't about crime and fire arms\nI'm a quiet bomb\nY'all niggas can't disconnect\nIf my voice ever left, I'ma use the internet\nAsk Meth if I'm hot enough to come as a threat\nAnd is it safe for you to put down and place your bet\nYou want a hit record, tell your label cut me a check\nI leave 'em scared to rhyme, have a verse stuck in his neck","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Glow\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 204000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Uh huh\n  This shit is funky right here\n  You know what it is right?\n  They don't want to see us blow\n  They don't want to see us go\n  They don't want to see us blow\n  Hell no, no\n  We move as the end the way we came in the door\n  Hit the club, I'ma leave with your hoe\n  Ho, ho\n  My flames be hot every time that I throw\n  Ain't nothing new son, I did this before\n  G-G-O\n  My niggas flip money like it ain't no mo'\n  Vessel of friends, but it ain't no mo'\n\n  For the lust of currency, they put they trust in this country\n  All your friends be cunningly when they hungry\n  Jealousy wanna stop the profit\n  Niggas hate to see money in our pockets\n  But we don't knock it\n  Souls get sold like stock markets\n  Regardless, we been heartless\n  With or without revolvers\n  We been this way before Godfathers\n  Or Al Pacino\n  Catch me with blacks and latinos\n  Jamaicans, Mexicans, Malcom X again with a pen\n  Set a trend, watch you and your friend go copy it\n  Got Boriqua screaming how papi is sick\n  The illest shorty on the floppy disk, watch me eclipse\n  Surpass and outshine all that light you get\n  First you live, then you breathe it out, write it and spit\n  And I'ma leave with the same deeds I came in with\n  You can't die with no riches you got\n  The bitches you got\n  Enjoy life before it could stop, it's too short\n  What's hip hop without New York\n  You should've thought\n  I seen brothers get they face cut over Newports\n  Stick up kids who live for you to take your shoes off\n  We got lawyers working for us that'll lie in the court\n  Still repent even if Christ ain't die on the cross\n  Gamble life like a dice game\n  Head crack or roll aces\n  Death pays off your sin wages\n  This take place on a weekly basis\n  In this business of handshakes and smiling faces\n  Hatred from a whole ghetto made us racist\n  Exclusive, got fanatics, can't wait to tape it\n  Spiritual, so a secret agent can't trace it\n  Blessed be the souls seek patience\n  We ain't too far from y'all, start to worship or go pagan\n  It's the God in the form of Satan\n  Until nation rise against nation\n  You got wars and more rumors of wars, it's yours truly\n  Every track out, I drop jewelry\n  I'm reality, not a movie\n  You be a sitcom, I sit calm while hip hop sit in my palm\n  Let me hear a rhyme that ain't about crime and fire arms\n  I'm a quiet bomb\n  Y'all niggas can't disconnect\n  If my voice ever left, I'ma use the internet\n  Ask Meth if I'm hot enough to come as a threat\n  And is it safe for you to put down and place your bet\n  You want a hit record, tell your label cut me a check\n  I leave 'em scared to rhyme, have a verse stuck in his neck\n"},{"id":28969782,"name":"Yours Truly","trackName":"Yours Truly","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":216.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\nDo the Grey Goose dance, baby\n(Yo, run to the bar real quick)\nYeah, yeah, everybody put they glass up in the air\nDrank with me, yeah\nWe gon' smoke the night in half, man\nI'm sorry we fuck up your hair, baby\nI want two ladies to one nigga right now\nLet's go\n\nThis for the mamis with the gorgeous bodies who barely go to parties\nMy sweet lion is love from out the wild safari\nAnd we could never copy Whitney or bein' Bobby\nParking lot pimpin', his and her Ferraris\nShe like Jamaican sands, tannin' to Bob Marley\nI'm into old jams, but I ain't Steve Harvey\nI'm more like probably a young Marcus Garvey\nI respect queens, don't disrespect the hotties\nMy independent ladies, single, ain't got babies\nKeepin' they legs closed for brothers in the Navy\nAnd brothers locked up around the late '80s\nAin't comin' home soon, could make her switch moves\nCatch a full moon, bitchy attitude\nThe way the booty move could make the wise fool\nShe got a mind brighter than any prized jewel\nShe got a mind brighter than any prized jewel\n\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n\nYou know how it goes, Razah manhandle hoes\nWho pose up in the club with they camel toes\nI'm on the dance floor puffin' to Biggie with two wizzes with me\nWho love to kiss like Madonna and Britney\nI'm buggin', it's like the whole game thinkin' they 50\nYou plottin' to come and get me? Son, I'm takin' you with me\nEverybody on these mixtapes thinkin' they straight\nMy piranhas don't go for the bait, they go for your face\nDuct tape rappers, make 'em open the safe\nHomicide any bitches who testify\nLawyer got the keys so nobody can't open the safe\nYour beats is lame, your rhymes is trash, I just laugh\nNiggas lucky that a record label found your ass\nDo the math, on my first week's sales, I ring bells\nGot fans in Japan to France to Israel\nEven ATL, L.A., back to B.K., yeah\n\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n\nI end your plans like Ray Lewis, vest as I spray through it\nGet mad cash like I'm half Jewish\nI only spit that embalming fluid, be on the conduit\nGettin' sucked off the calm music\nMove units like Rod Stewart and you get robbed to it\nThe undisputed rap Joe Louis\nMy heart cold like Eskimos, I give your chest some holes\nAnd let you air out some extra flows\nBank account need extra O's, no extra hoes\nIt's more stress that'll test my soul\nEven older niggas know me gon' give me my props\n'Cause my game pull divas like Vivica Fox\nBackwoods by the boxes, man, I got lots of fam\nIt's God's will when your Glock get jammed\nI'm not the Klan, but rhyme like you cyanide members\nRazah Maccabee, G.G., do remember\n\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\nShe be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\nGucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Yours Truly\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 216000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah\n  Do the Grey Goose dance, baby\n  (Yo, run to the bar real quick)\n  Yeah, yeah, everybody put they glass up in the air\n  Drank with me, yeah\n  We gon' smoke the night in half, man\n  I'm sorry we fuck up your hair, baby\n  I want two ladies to one nigga right now\n  Let's go\n\n  This for the mamis with the gorgeous bodies who barely go to parties\n  My sweet lion is love from out the wild safari\n  And we could never copy Whitney or bein' Bobby\n  Parking lot pimpin', his and her Ferraris\n  She like Jamaican sands, tannin' to Bob Marley\n  I'm into old jams, but I ain't Steve Harvey\n  I'm more like probably a young Marcus Garvey\n  I respect queens, don't disrespect the hotties\n  My independent ladies, single, ain't got babies\n  Keepin' they legs closed for brothers in the Navy\n  And brothers locked up around the late '80s\n  Ain't comin' home soon, could make her switch moves\n  Catch a full moon, bitchy attitude\n  The way the booty move could make the wise fool\n  She got a mind brighter than any prized jewel\n  She got a mind brighter than any prized jewel\n\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n\n  You know how it goes, Razah manhandle hoes\n  Who pose up in the club with they camel toes\n  I'm on the dance floor puffin' to Biggie with two wizzes with me\n  Who love to kiss like Madonna and Britney\n  I'm buggin', it's like the whole game thinkin' they 50\n  You plottin' to come and get me? Son, I'm takin' you with me\n  Everybody on these mixtapes thinkin' they straight\n  My piranhas don't go for the bait, they go for your face\n  Duct tape rappers, make 'em open the safe\n  Homicide any bitches who testify\n  Lawyer got the keys so nobody can't open the safe\n  Your beats is lame, your rhymes is trash, I just laugh\n  Niggas lucky that a record label found your ass\n  Do the math, on my first week's sales, I ring bells\n  Got fans in Japan to France to Israel\n  Even ATL, L.A., back to B.K., yeah\n\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n\n  I end your plans like Ray Lewis, vest as I spray through it\n  Get mad cash like I'm half Jewish\n  I only spit that embalming fluid, be on the conduit\n  Gettin' sucked off the calm music\n  Move units like Rod Stewart and you get robbed to it\n  The undisputed rap Joe Louis\n  My heart cold like Eskimos, I give your chest some holes\n  And let you air out some extra flows\n  Bank account need extra O's, no extra hoes\n  It's more stress that'll test my soul\n  Even older niggas know me gon' give me my props\n  'Cause my game pull divas like Vivica Fox\n  Backwoods by the boxes, man, I got lots of fam\n  It's God's will when your Glock get jammed\n  I'm not the Klan, but rhyme like you cyanide members\n  Razah Maccabee, G.G., do remember\n\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n  She be my sleepin' beauty, mami, I'm yours truly\n  Gucci bandana, you know it's Razah Rubies\n"},{"id":28561830,"name":"Musical Murdah (feat. Rass Kass)","trackName":"Musical Murdah (feat. Rass Kass)","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":235.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, where the fuck you get these pictures from?\nYo, let me show you some shit, man\nC'mon, we gon' go in here (Renaissance)\nWe gon' see some shit on the walls in this fuckin' building\nYou ain't never seen before, seen before\n\nYou high, lookin' at the picture, that's when it begin\nYou see a arm out the icon, come snatch you in\nIt's hood hieroglyphics, it was written in graffiti scriptures\nFor all the twelve tribes leavin' with us\nThey got a new Pope, the seeds of Hitler\nWe spell Bush with a swastika, Adolf is Schwartzenegger\nMore coke, more ropes for our throats to kill us\nShippin' dope through the churches, delivered in hearses\nWhen you translate my verses, it's blesses and curses\nMusical murders, direct hearts from the strings of a harp\nThe warriors drum, at night time, give me a spark\nI ain't bark, or no Beethoven, made the heavens open\nFor all the instruments of slaves stolen\nIt's like holdin' on that shofar, blowin' on the Day of Atonement\nNow we followin' the ways of the Romans\nPlay guitars when we buildin' on Mars, in the Issachar bar\nMe and Priest share similar scars, seven stars\nCarved into my skin, what's poppin'?\nIt's somethin' much more to that death, of Johnnie Cochran\nI walk through the valley of kings, like Akhenaton\nAnd run up in the Vatican church, without a stockin'\n\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nMusical murder\n\nIt's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\nHell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\nYo, two years went on I vacation, just\nOne man, defyin' a nation\nWho else could chop pies in the basement\nThen turn around and sign with a Mason?\nDefine the relation between crime and inflation\nDominicano and Haitian\nThrow out all your old CDs, me and Hell Razah replaced 'em\nAnd now I'm gonna show you how the West Coast rocks\nBitches, pull out your titties like Courtney Love\nI'm like the sidewalk, call me, I support these blocks\nScorching hot, jailhouse tatted, four T-Glocks\nYou gon' need morphine shots, the pain is exquisite\nAnd your ride or die bitch, I'mma tell Xzibit to pimp it\nHa, old nigga, new nigga\nTryin' to take the spear of destiny and put it through niggas\nCrack Da Vinci's code, Ras the black Merovingian\nJesus Christ and Mary Magdalene's next of kin\nBut in the end, every three seconds a child dies in Africa\nGenocidal massacre, and rappers know I walk on walls\nLike tarantula, my flow is cancer, the answer\nTo why you on my dick like a catheter, I laugh at half of ya\nMortals can't withstand my velocity\nI flip the Earth's axis with a spatula, impossibly\nI'mma crack the surface, Captain Kirk is\nIn the hood like liquor stores and Baptist churches, motherfucker\nMusical murder\n\nIt's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\nHell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nMusical murder\n\nYou are now listening to the sounds of the Renaissance Child","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Musical Murdah (feat. Rass Kass)\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 235000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, where the fuck you get these pictures from?\n  Yo, let me show you some shit, man\n  C'mon, we gon' go in here (Renaissance)\n  We gon' see some shit on the walls in this fuckin' building\n  You ain't never seen before, seen before\n\n  You high, lookin' at the picture, that's when it begin\n  You see a arm out the icon, come snatch you in\n  It's hood hieroglyphics, it was written in graffiti scriptures\n  For all the twelve tribes leavin' with us\n  They got a new Pope, the seeds of Hitler\n  We spell Bush with a swastika, Adolf is Schwartzenegger\n  More coke, more ropes for our throats to kill us\n  Shippin' dope through the churches, delivered in hearses\n  When you translate my verses, it's blesses and curses\n  Musical murders, direct hearts from the strings of a harp\n  The warriors drum, at night time, give me a spark\n  I ain't bark, or no Beethoven, made the heavens open\n  For all the instruments of slaves stolen\n  It's like holdin' on that shofar, blowin' on the Day of Atonement\n  Now we followin' the ways of the Romans\n  Play guitars when we buildin' on Mars, in the Issachar bar\n  Me and Priest share similar scars, seven stars\n  Carved into my skin, what's poppin'?\n  It's somethin' much more to that death, of Johnnie Cochran\n  I walk through the valley of kings, like Akhenaton\n  And run up in the Vatican church, without a stockin'\n\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  Musical murder\n\n  It's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\n  Hell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\n  Yo, two years went on I vacation, just\n  One man, defyin' a nation\n  Who else could chop pies in the basement\n  Then turn around and sign with a Mason?\n  Define the relation between crime and inflation\n  Dominicano and Haitian\n  Throw out all your old CDs, me and Hell Razah replaced 'em\n  And now I'm gonna show you how the West Coast rocks\n  Bitches, pull out your titties like Courtney Love\n  I'm like the sidewalk, call me, I support these blocks\n  Scorching hot, jailhouse tatted, four T-Glocks\n  You gon' need morphine shots, the pain is exquisite\n  And your ride or die bitch, I'mma tell Xzibit to pimp it\n  Ha, old nigga, new nigga\n  Tryin' to take the spear of destiny and put it through niggas\n  Crack Da Vinci's code, Ras the black Merovingian\n  Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene's next of kin\n  But in the end, every three seconds a child dies in Africa\n  Genocidal massacre, and rappers know I walk on walls\n  Like tarantula, my flow is cancer, the answer\n  To why you on my dick like a catheter, I laugh at half of ya\n  Mortals can't withstand my velocity\n  I flip the Earth's axis with a spatula, impossibly\n  I'mma crack the surface, Captain Kirk is\n  In the hood like liquor stores and Baptist churches, motherfucker\n  Musical murder\n\n  It's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\n  Hell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  Musical murder\n\n  You are now listening to the sounds of the Renaissance Child\n"},{"id":28737197,"name":"Thankful","trackName":"Thankful","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":206.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, Hell Razah\nAka, the Renaissance Child\nRazah Rubies, the Rabbi\nI wanna give a special thanks to everybody\nOut there that bought the album, ya know\nI appreciate that, for all the love and\nSupport and everything, ya know what I mean\nYeah, wings up, throw your M's in the air, let's go\n\nI'm bout that jackpot, jackpot, keepin' my gat cocked\nStill Red Hook like the G train, last stop\nWith black cops, take, a percentage from crack spots\nWith fans online like I invented the laptop\nMy black Godfather to match my black revolver\nWith bullets that'll tear through your vest and body armor\nGet turned into martyrs and buried in funeral parlors\nOr covered up with make-up, keep, buckin' our cake up\nYour moms'll be beggin' the Lord for you to wake up\nLike Harry Melvin and the Blue Notes\nI give you two pokes of gun smoke from my toast, you get too close\nThis is BK, home of the bosses and kidnappers\nWith ice like Igloo, bricks cold as Alaska\nI spit that emerald, sapphire and jasper\nI wear the coke so white they call it Casper\nAnd now all the drug kingpins became rappers\nAnd labels wanna buy out artists to keep they masters\nWhat's a royalty point with no loyalty\nWhen CEOs wipin' they nose sniffin' your budget up\nAnd tell you that you need more scans to bring the numbers up\nIt's all recoupable, from your birth to your funeral\nStreets a musical, pay your debts or they suin' you\nBack or shootin' you, it's whatever's more suitable... BITCH!\n\nI wanna thank all my fans for they love and support\nBecause it wouldn't be me without no records you bought\nI had to bring it back raw for the streets of New York\nAnd leave somethin' for these critics and these haters to talk about\n\nAm I a problem or thorn in your side, a suicidal bomb threat\nEvery mornin' you rise, install in your drive\nA program to open your mind, I coach you to rhyme\nBut prayin' like a ghetto Rabbi that stay on the grind\nBefore any label could sign, I'm doin' numbers online\nMatter of fact, independently fine\nGet off of my vine and go and find a mountain to climb\nI wear crime and illegal but pay bills and feed you\nWhen jaws be firin', we hire those people\nWe stuck with the choice of the lesser of two evils\nI'm camouflaged, you know I blend with the Amazon\nProject apartments turn to pentagons\nMy sixteen bars they study in synagogues\nNiggas shuffle tarot cards and search for other Gods\nIt's odd but I'm the youngest nigga ill thus far\nCause I ain't tryin' to be Jay, 'Pac, Nas or Biggie Smalls\nKeep my currency flowin' like Niagara Falls\nGet it crackin' like the Berlin Wall\nYou hear the Maccabee roll call\nBullets travel in you like pinball\nI'm bankster, all about deposits and withdrawals\nA fist full of dollars, I advise you to get yours\n\nYo count your money man\nYou got it? A hundred thousand\nTake that money, two hundred thousand\nAnd go break bread with your niggas man\nThree hundred five, we good, we good?\nKnow what I'm sayin', and teach them all the same thing\nNo doubt son, know what I'm sayin', we all leaders\nKnow what I'm sayin', we gon' do it like this\nRazah, aka the Renaissance Child\nI'd like to give a special thanks, to the Most High\nFor wakin' me up this mornin'\nFor makin' everything real, ya know what I'm sayin'\nI'm thankful for the simple things in life, ya know what I mean\nI'm thankful for bein' able to see out of my two eyes right now\nHear out of my, both of both of my ears\nBoth of them, ya heard me, what up, I love y'all man, what up\nGood lookin' for supportin' the album too man, real shit man\nSmell, bein' able to taste, know what I'm sayin'","syncedLyrics":"[00:04.09] Yeah, Hell Razah\n[00:14.94] Aka, the Renaissance Child\n[00:19.31] Razah Rubies, the Rabbi\n[00:23.89] I wanna give a special thanks to everybody\n[00:25.75] Out there that bought the album, ya know\n[00:27.82] I appreciate that, for all the love and\n[00:30.02] Support and everything, ya know what I mean\n[00:33.50] \n[00:35.75] Yeah, wings up, throw your M's in the air, let's go\n[00:40.69] I'm bout that jackpot, jackpot, keepin' my gat cocked\n[00:43.74] Still Red Hook like the G train, last stop\n[00:46.18] With black cops, take, a percentage from crack spots\n[00:48.74] With fans online like I invented the laptop\n[00:51.24] My black Godfather to match my black revolver\n[00:53.79] With bullets that'll tear through your vest and body armor\n[00:56.39] Get turned into martyrs and buried in funeral parlors\n[00:58.95] Or covered up with make-up, keep, buckin' our cake up\n[01:01.54] Your moms'll be beggin' the Lord for you to wake up\n[01:04.01] Like Harry Melvin and the Blue Notes\n[01:05.73] I give you two pokes of gun smoke from my toast, you get too close\n[01:09.06] This is BK, home of the bosses and kidnappers\n[01:11.75] With ice like Igloo, bricks cold as Alaska\n[01:14.36] I spit that emerald, sapphire and jasper\n[01:17.20] I wear the coke so white they call it Casper\n[01:19.56] And now all the drug kingpins became rappers\n[01:22.00] And labels wanna buy out artists to keep they masters\n[01:24.99] What's a royalty point with no loyalty\n[01:27.06] When CEOs wipin' they nose sniffin' your budget up\n[01:29.78] And tell you that you need more scans to bring the numbers up\n[01:32.27] It's all recoupable, from your birth to your funeral\n[01:34.92] Streets a musical, pay your debts or they suin' you\n[01:37.52] Back or shootin' you, it's whatever's more suitable... BITCH!\n[01:42.07] I wanna thank all my fans for they love and support\n[01:44.76] Because it wouldn't be me without no records you bought\n[01:47.34] I had to bring it back raw for the streets of New York\n[01:49.86] And leave somethin' for these critics and these haters to talk about\n[01:52.41] Am I a problem or thorn in your side, a suicidal bomb threat\n[01:55.76] Every mornin' you rise, install in your drive\n[01:57.88] A program to open your mind, I coach you to rhyme\n[02:00.46] But prayin' like a ghetto Rabbi that stay on the grind\n[02:03.05] Before any label could sign, I'm doin' numbers online\n[02:06.03] Matter of fact, independently fine\n[02:07.74] Get off of my vine and go and find a mountain to climb\n[02:10.50] I wear crime and illegal but pay bills and feed you\n[02:13.28] When jaws be firin', we hire those people\n[02:15.84] We stuck with the choice of the lesser of two evils\n[02:18.39] I'm camouflaged, you know I blend with the Amazon\n[02:21.13] Project apartments turn to pentagons\n[02:23.58] My sixteen bars they study in synagogues\n[02:25.81] Niggas shuffle tarot cards and search for other Gods\n[02:28.46] It's odd but I'm the youngest nigga ill thus far\n[02:30.95] Cause I ain't tryin' to be Jay, 'Pac, Nas or Biggie Smalls\n[02:33.66] Keep my currency flowin' like Niagara Falls\n[02:36.12] Get it crackin' like the Berlin Wall\n[02:38.05] You hear the Maccabee roll call\n[02:39.64] Bullets travel in you like pinball\n[02:41.43] I'm bankster, all about deposits and withdrawals\n[02:44.04] A fist full of dollars, I advise you to get yours\n[02:47.00] Yo count your money man\n[02:48.80] You got it? A hundred thousand\n[02:50.41] Take that money, two hundred thousand\n[02:51.82] And go break bread with your niggas man\n[02:53.33] Three hundred five, we good, we good?\n[02:54.79] Know what I'm sayin', and teach them all the same thing\n[02:56.98] No doubt son, know what I'm sayin', we all leaders\n[02:58.97] Know what I'm sayin', we gon' do it like this\n[03:01.05] Razah, aka the Renaissance Child\n[03:03.50] I'd like to give a special thanks, to the Most High\n[03:07.33] For wakin' me up this mornin'\n[03:09.24] For makin' everything real, ya know what I'm sayin'\n[03:11.66] I'm thankful for the simple things in life, ya know what I mean\n[03:14.69] I'm thankful for bein' able to see out of my two eyes right now\n[03:18.18] Hear out of my, both of both of my ears\n[03:20.40] Both of them, ya heard me, what up, I love y'all man, what up\n[03:22.69] Good lookin' for supportin' the album too man, real shit man\n[03:25.36] Smell, bein' able to taste, know what I'm sayin'\n[03:26.04] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Thankful\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 206000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, Hell Razah\n  start_ms: 4090\n  end_ms: 14940\n- text: Aka, the Renaissance Child\n  start_ms: 14940\n  end_ms: 19310\n- text: Razah Rubies, the Rabbi\n  start_ms: 19310\n  end_ms: 23890\n- text: I wanna give a special thanks to everybody\n  start_ms: 23890\n  end_ms: 25750\n- text: Out there that bought the album, ya know\n  start_ms: 25750\n  end_ms: 27820\n- text: I appreciate that, for all the love and\n  start_ms: 27820\n  end_ms: 30020\n- text: Support and everything, ya know what I mean\n  start_ms: 30020\n  end_ms: 33500\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 33500\n  end_ms: 35750\n- text: Yeah, wings up, throw your M's in the air, let's go\n  start_ms: 35750\n  end_ms: 40690\n- text: I'm bout that jackpot, jackpot, keepin' my gat cocked\n  start_ms: 40690\n  end_ms: 43740\n- text: Still Red Hook like the G train, last stop\n  start_ms: 43740\n  end_ms: 46180\n- text: With black cops, take, a percentage from crack spots\n  start_ms: 46180\n  end_ms: 48740\n- text: With fans online like I invented the laptop\n  start_ms: 48740\n  end_ms: 51240\n- text: My black Godfather to match my black revolver\n  start_ms: 51240\n  end_ms: 53790\n- text: With bullets that'll tear through your vest and body armor\n  start_ms: 53790\n  end_ms: 56390\n- text: Get turned into martyrs and buried in funeral parlors\n  start_ms: 56390\n  end_ms: 58950\n- text: Or covered up with make-up, keep, buckin' our cake up\n  start_ms: 58950\n  end_ms: 61540\n- text: Your moms'll be beggin' the Lord for you to wake up\n  start_ms: 61540\n  end_ms: 64010\n- text: Like Harry Melvin and the Blue Notes\n  start_ms: 64010\n  end_ms: 65730\n- text: I give you two pokes of gun smoke from my toast, you get too close\n  start_ms: 65730\n  end_ms: 69060\n- text: This is BK, home of the bosses and kidnappers\n  start_ms: 69060\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: With ice like Igloo, bricks cold as Alaska\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74360\n- text: I spit that emerald, sapphire and jasper\n  start_ms: 74360\n  end_ms: 77200\n- text: I wear the coke so white they call it Casper\n  start_ms: 77200\n  end_ms: 79560\n- text: And now all the drug kingpins became rappers\n  start_ms: 79560\n  end_ms: 82000\n- text: And labels wanna buy out artists to keep they masters\n  start_ms: 82000\n  end_ms: 84990\n- text: What's a royalty point with no loyalty\n  start_ms: 84990\n  end_ms: 87060\n- text: When CEOs wipin' they nose sniffin' your budget up\n  start_ms: 87060\n  end_ms: 89780\n- text: And tell you that you need more scans to bring the numbers up\n  start_ms: 89780\n  end_ms: 92270\n- text: It's all recoupable, from your birth to your funeral\n  start_ms: 92270\n  end_ms: 94920\n- text: Streets a musical, pay your debts or they suin' you\n  start_ms: 94920\n  end_ms: 97520\n- text: Back or shootin' you, it's whatever's more suitable... BITCH!\n  start_ms: 97520\n  end_ms: 102070\n- text: I wanna thank all my fans for they love and support\n  start_ms: 102070\n  end_ms: 104760\n- text: Because it wouldn't be me without no records you bought\n  start_ms: 104760\n  end_ms: 107340\n- text: I had to bring it back raw for the streets of New York\n  start_ms: 107340\n  end_ms: 109860\n- text: And leave somethin' for these critics and these haters to talk about\n  start_ms: 109860\n  end_ms: 112410\n- text: Am I a problem or thorn in your side, a suicidal bomb threat\n  start_ms: 112410\n  end_ms: 115760\n- text: Every mornin' you rise, install in your drive\n  start_ms: 115760\n  end_ms: 117880\n- text: A program to open your mind, I coach you to rhyme\n  start_ms: 117880\n  end_ms: 120460\n- text: But prayin' like a ghetto Rabbi that stay on the grind\n  start_ms: 120460\n  end_ms: 123050\n- text: Before any label could sign, I'm doin' numbers online\n  start_ms: 123050\n  end_ms: 126030\n- text: Matter of fact, independently fine\n  start_ms: 126030\n  end_ms: 127740\n- text: Get off of my vine and go and find a mountain to climb\n  start_ms: 127740\n  end_ms: 130500\n- text: I wear crime and illegal but pay bills and feed you\n  start_ms: 130500\n  end_ms: 133280\n- text: When jaws be firin', we hire those people\n  start_ms: 133280\n  end_ms: 135840\n- text: We stuck with the choice of the lesser of two evils\n  start_ms: 135840\n  end_ms: 138390\n- text: I'm camouflaged, you know I blend with the Amazon\n  start_ms: 138390\n  end_ms: 141130\n- text: Project apartments turn to pentagons\n  start_ms: 141130\n  end_ms: 143580\n- text: My sixteen bars they study in synagogues\n  start_ms: 143580\n  end_ms: 145810\n- text: Niggas shuffle tarot cards and search for other Gods\n  start_ms: 145810\n  end_ms: 148460\n- text: It's odd but I'm the youngest nigga ill thus far\n  start_ms: 148460\n  end_ms: 150950\n- text: Cause I ain't tryin' to be Jay, 'Pac, Nas or Biggie Smalls\n  start_ms: 150950\n  end_ms: 153660\n- text: Keep my currency flowin' like Niagara Falls\n  start_ms: 153660\n  end_ms: 156120\n- text: Get it crackin' like the Berlin Wall\n  start_ms: 156120\n  end_ms: 158050\n- text: You hear the Maccabee roll call\n  start_ms: 158050\n  end_ms: 159640\n- text: Bullets travel in you like pinball\n  start_ms: 159640\n  end_ms: 161430\n- text: I'm bankster, all about deposits and withdrawals\n  start_ms: 161430\n  end_ms: 164040\n- text: A fist full of dollars, I advise you to get yours\n  start_ms: 164040\n  end_ms: 167000\n- text: Yo count your money man\n  start_ms: 167000\n  end_ms: 168800\n- text: You got it? A hundred thousand\n  start_ms: 168800\n  end_ms: 170410\n- text: Take that money, two hundred thousand\n  start_ms: 170410\n  end_ms: 171820\n- text: And go break bread with your niggas man\n  start_ms: 171820\n  end_ms: 173330\n- text: Three hundred five, we good, we good?\n  start_ms: 173330\n  end_ms: 174790\n- text: Know what I'm sayin', and teach them all the same thing\n  start_ms: 174790\n  end_ms: 176980\n- text: No doubt son, know what I'm sayin', we all leaders\n  start_ms: 176980\n  end_ms: 178970\n- text: Know what I'm sayin', we gon' do it like this\n  start_ms: 178970\n  end_ms: 181050\n- text: Razah, aka the Renaissance Child\n  start_ms: 181050\n  end_ms: 183500\n- text: I'd like to give a special thanks, to the Most High\n  start_ms: 183500\n  end_ms: 187330\n- text: For wakin' me up this mornin'\n  start_ms: 187330\n  end_ms: 189240\n- text: For makin' everything real, ya know what I'm sayin'\n  start_ms: 189240\n  end_ms: 191660\n- text: I'm thankful for the simple things in life, ya know what I mean\n  start_ms: 191660\n  end_ms: 194690\n- text: I'm thankful for bein' able to see out of my two eyes right now\n  start_ms: 194690\n  end_ms: 198180\n- text: Hear out of my, both of both of my ears\n  start_ms: 198180\n  end_ms: 200400\n- text: Both of them, ya heard me, what up, I love y'all man, what up\n  start_ms: 200400\n  end_ms: 202690\n- text: Good lookin' for supportin' the album too man, real shit man\n  start_ms: 202690\n  end_ms: 205360\n- text: Smell, bein' able to taste, know what I'm sayin'\n  start_ms: 205360\n  end_ms: 206040\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 206040\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, Hell Razah\n  Aka, the Renaissance Child\n  Razah Rubies, the Rabbi\n  I wanna give a special thanks to everybody\n  Out there that bought the album, ya know\n  I appreciate that, for all the love and\n  Support and everything, ya know what I mean\n  Yeah, wings up, throw your M's in the air, let's go\n\n  I'm bout that jackpot, jackpot, keepin' my gat cocked\n  Still Red Hook like the G train, last stop\n  With black cops, take, a percentage from crack spots\n  With fans online like I invented the laptop\n  My black Godfather to match my black revolver\n  With bullets that'll tear through your vest and body armor\n  Get turned into martyrs and buried in funeral parlors\n  Or covered up with make-up, keep, buckin' our cake up\n  Your moms'll be beggin' the Lord for you to wake up\n  Like Harry Melvin and the Blue Notes\n  I give you two pokes of gun smoke from my toast, you get too close\n  This is BK, home of the bosses and kidnappers\n  With ice like Igloo, bricks cold as Alaska\n  I spit that emerald, sapphire and jasper\n  I wear the coke so white they call it Casper\n  And now all the drug kingpins became rappers\n  And labels wanna buy out artists to keep they masters\n  What's a royalty point with no loyalty\n  When CEOs wipin' they nose sniffin' your budget up\n  And tell you that you need more scans to bring the numbers up\n  It's all recoupable, from your birth to your funeral\n  Streets a musical, pay your debts or they suin' you\n  Back or shootin' you, it's whatever's more suitable... BITCH!\n\n  I wanna thank all my fans for they love and support\n  Because it wouldn't be me without no records you bought\n  I had to bring it back raw for the streets of New York\n  And leave somethin' for these critics and these haters to talk about\n\n  Am I a problem or thorn in your side, a suicidal bomb threat\n  Every mornin' you rise, install in your drive\n  A program to open your mind, I coach you to rhyme\n  But prayin' like a ghetto Rabbi that stay on the grind\n  Before any label could sign, I'm doin' numbers online\n  Matter of fact, independently fine\n  Get off of my vine and go and find a mountain to climb\n  I wear crime and illegal but pay bills and feed you\n  When jaws be firin', we hire those people\n  We stuck with the choice of the lesser of two evils\n  I'm camouflaged, you know I blend with the Amazon\n  Project apartments turn to pentagons\n  My sixteen bars they study in synagogues\n  Niggas shuffle tarot cards and search for other Gods\n  It's odd but I'm the youngest nigga ill thus far\n  Cause I ain't tryin' to be Jay, 'Pac, Nas or Biggie Smalls\n  Keep my currency flowin' like Niagara Falls\n  Get it crackin' like the Berlin Wall\n  You hear the Maccabee roll call\n  Bullets travel in you like pinball\n  I'm bankster, all about deposits and withdrawals\n  A fist full of dollars, I advise you to get yours\n\n  Yo count your money man\n  You got it? A hundred thousand\n  Take that money, two hundred thousand\n  And go break bread with your niggas man\n  Three hundred five, we good, we good?\n  Know what I'm sayin', and teach them all the same thing\n  No doubt son, know what I'm sayin', we all leaders\n  Know what I'm sayin', we gon' do it like this\n  Razah, aka the Renaissance Child\n  I'd like to give a special thanks, to the Most High\n  For wakin' me up this mornin'\n  For makin' everything real, ya know what I'm sayin'\n  I'm thankful for the simple things in life, ya know what I mean\n  I'm thankful for bein' able to see out of my two eyes right now\n  Hear out of my, both of both of my ears\n  Both of them, ya heard me, what up, I love y'all man, what up\n  Good lookin' for supportin' the album too man, real shit man\n  Smell, bein' able to taste, know what I'm sayin'\n"},{"id":25723704,"name":"Chain Gang","trackName":"Chain Gang","artistName":"Hell Razah","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":217.92,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"And I was on the chain gang\nChain gang, chain gang, always talk about the chain\nGang, man, the chain gang, does a hell of a thing\n\nRenaissance Child, dedicated to Nat Turner\nA true Maccabean rebel\nYo, let me tell y'all this story\nThey had us handcuffed on them sea ships, since the days of Egypt\nNow we sittin' in the racist precinct\nBlack Hebrews, from centuries ago\nYoung negroes with dark skinned afros, who built castles\nWhite halos, on black anglos\nWho was sold like Joseph by his own brother\nLater on to free his own mother\nWe only suffer cause of God love us\nGiven to the hands of blood suckers\nA lost tribe that was undiscovered\nUntil the British came and bum rushed us\nWhat you think my Desert Eagle's fo'?\nThat's why Moses told Pharaoh let his people go\nUntil this day that same evil grows\nFrom overseers, to Caesars, to black C.O.'s\nIn a prison cell, livin' hell, naked and cold\nYou feel the chills when you hear them key holes\nOf your freedom get closed\nIn the end we all reap what we sow\n\nIt go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\nWe was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\n\nChildren of Zion was choked by them yolks of iron\nNow they screamin' let bygones be bygones\nAnd burn icons, before they whitewash, everything bronze\nTold the Israelites they took away they right to bear arms\nJohnny Hawkins, captured us and started auctions\nBack when cowboy spurs were for birth abortions\nQueen Elizabeth, sponsored and she helped fund it\nAnd we was slaughtered like some cattle\nThat been hunted through them jungles\nKept in dungeons, of London, in the fifteen hundreds\nWhile they waited for the slaves the ship Mayflower brung in\nNow if a riot was to rise, it'll still be genocide\nBlack on black crime, kept us fallin' behind\nInvoluntary servitude, had us servin' 'em food\nA holocaust, of the last Jews, they shoulda been sued\nLeft our fathers in a solitude, sharpenin' spoons\nOn a chain gang singin' about poverty blues\n\nIt go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\nWe was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\nIt go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\nWe was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\n\nIt go chain gang, same things\nSame faces, same names\nSame hell, same flames\nChain gangs, chain gang, same names\nSame faces, same hell, same flames\n\nJ.A. Rogers, part of the\nJoAnne Chesimard, part of the\nHarriet Tubman, part of the\nThis goes out\nSister Sojourner Truth, part of the\nChe Guevara, part of the\nTo all those true\nMalcolm X be part of the\nTrue and livin' soldiers out there that die for the truth\nClarence 13X, part of the\nInstead of Allah\nKhalid Muhammad, part of the\nPeople that\nRabbi Bivins, part of the\nLeft somethin' for us to survive off of, in these last days\nDaddy Rose, part of the\nHuey P. Newton, part of the\nDred Scott, part of the\nThat's how it go down\nNat Turner, part of the\nWe can't put it out in them schools\nNobutu Amin, part of the\nWe gon' put it out in hip hop\nFidel Castro, part of the","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.36] And I was on the chain gang\n[00:03.41] Chain gang, chain gang, always talk about the chain\n[00:05.84] Gang, man, the chain gang, does a hell of a thing\n[00:11.12] Renaissance Child, dedicated to Nat Turner\n[00:14.37] A true Maccabean rebel\n[00:17.31] Yo, let me tell y'all this story\n[00:18.65] They had us handcuffed on them sea ships, since the days of Egypt\n[00:22.68] Now we sittin' in the racist precinct\n[00:24.83] Black Hebrews, from centuries ago\n[00:27.29] Young negroes with dark skinned afros, who built castles\n[00:30.85] White halos, on black anglos\n[00:33.06] Who was sold like Joseph by his own brother\n[00:36.01] Later on to free his own mother\n[00:38.18] We only suffer cause of God love us\n[00:40.57] Given to the hands of blood suckers\n[00:42.69] A lost tribe that was undiscovered\n[00:44.81] Until the British came and bum rushed us\n[00:47.20] What you think my Desert Eagle's fo'?\n[00:49.32] That's why Moses told Pharaoh let his people go\n[00:52.39] Until this day that same evil grows\n[00:54.56] From overseers, to Caesars, to black C.O.'s\n[00:57.82] In a prison cell, livin' hell, naked and cold\n[01:00.53] You feel the chills when you hear them key holes\n[01:03.05] Of your freedom get closed\n[01:04.50] In the end we all reap what we sow\n[01:06.51] It go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\n[01:09.54] We was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\n[01:12.50] Children of Zion was choked by them yolks of iron\n[01:15.74] Now they screamin' let bygones be bygones\n[01:18.12] And burn icons, before they whitewash, everything bronze\n[01:21.77] Told the Israelites they took away they right to bear arms\n[01:24.71] Johnny Hawkins, captured us and started auctions\n[01:27.73] Back when cowboy spurs were for birth abortions\n[01:30.62] Queen Elizabeth, sponsored and she helped fund it\n[01:33.53] And we was slaughtered like some cattle\n[01:35.11] That been hunted through them jungles\n[01:36.64] Kept in dungeons, of London, in the fifteen hundreds\n[01:39.78] While they waited for the slaves the ship Mayflower brung in\n[01:42.50] Now if a riot was to rise, it'll still be genocide\n[01:45.98] Black on black crime, kept us fallin' behind\n[01:48.48] Involuntary servitude, had us servin' 'em food\n[01:51.55] A holocaust, of the last Jews, they shoulda been sued\n[01:54.54] Left our fathers in a solitude, sharpenin' spoons\n[01:57.69] On a chain gang singin' about poverty blues\n[02:00.44] It go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\n[02:03.41] We was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\n[02:06.39] It go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\n[02:09.45] We was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\n[02:12.43] It go chain gang, same things\n[02:15.12] Same faces, same names\n[02:17.04] Same hell, same flames\n[02:18.88] Chain gangs, chain gang, same names\n[02:22.24] Same faces, same hell, same flames\n[02:27.04] \n[02:37.28] J.A. Rogers, part of the\n[02:40.15] JoAnne Chesimard, part of the\n[02:43.14] Harriet Tubman, part of the\n[02:47.59] This goes out\n[02:49.09] Sister Sojourner Truth, part of the\n[02:52.25] Che Guevara, part of the\n[02:54.34] To all those true\n[02:55.21] Malcolm X be part of the\n[02:57.23] True and livin' soldiers out there that die for the truth\n[03:01.16] Clarence 13X, part of the\n[03:03.05] Instead of Allah\n[03:04.05] Khalid Muhammad, part of the\n[03:06.40] People that\n[03:07.26] Rabbi Bivins, part of the\n[03:09.20] Left somethin' for us to survive off of, in these last days\n[03:13.19] Daddy Rose, part of the\n[03:16.26] Huey P. Newton, part of the\n[03:19.18] Dred Scott, part of the\n[03:21.97] That's how it go down\n[03:25.12] Nat Turner, part of the\n[03:26.02] We can't put it out in them schools\n[03:28.17] Nobutu Amin, part of the\n[03:29.06] We gon' put it out in hip hop\n[03:30.94] Fidel Castro, part of the\n[03:37.92] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Chain Gang\n  artist: Hell Razah\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 217920\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: And I was on the chain gang\n  start_ms: 1360\n  end_ms: 3410\n- text: Chain gang, chain gang, always talk about the chain\n  start_ms: 3410\n  end_ms: 5840\n- text: Gang, man, the chain gang, does a hell of a thing\n  start_ms: 5840\n  end_ms: 11120\n- text: Renaissance Child, dedicated to Nat Turner\n  start_ms: 11120\n  end_ms: 14370\n- text: A true Maccabean rebel\n  start_ms: 14370\n  end_ms: 17310\n- text: Yo, let me tell y'all this story\n  start_ms: 17310\n  end_ms: 18650\n- text: They had us handcuffed on them sea ships, since the days of Egypt\n  start_ms: 18650\n  end_ms: 22680\n- text: Now we sittin' in the racist precinct\n  start_ms: 22680\n  end_ms: 24830\n- text: Black Hebrews, from centuries ago\n  start_ms: 24830\n  end_ms: 27290\n- text: Young negroes with dark skinned afros, who built castles\n  start_ms: 27290\n  end_ms: 30850\n- text: White halos, on black anglos\n  start_ms: 30850\n  end_ms: 33060\n- text: Who was sold like Joseph by his own brother\n  start_ms: 33060\n  end_ms: 36010\n- text: Later on to free his own mother\n  start_ms: 36010\n  end_ms: 38180\n- text: We only suffer cause of God love us\n  start_ms: 38180\n  end_ms: 40570\n- text: Given to the hands of blood suckers\n  start_ms: 40570\n  end_ms: 42690\n- text: A lost tribe that was undiscovered\n  start_ms: 42690\n  end_ms: 44810\n- text: Until the British came and bum rushed us\n  start_ms: 44810\n  end_ms: 47200\n- text: What you think my Desert Eagle's fo'?\n  start_ms: 47200\n  end_ms: 49320\n- text: That's why Moses told Pharaoh let his people go\n  start_ms: 49320\n  end_ms: 52390\n- text: Until this day that same evil grows\n  start_ms: 52390\n  end_ms: 54560\n- text: From overseers, to Caesars, to black C.O.'s\n  start_ms: 54560\n  end_ms: 57820\n- text: In a prison cell, livin' hell, naked and cold\n  start_ms: 57820\n  end_ms: 60530\n- text: You feel the chills when you hear them key holes\n  start_ms: 60530\n  end_ms: 63050\n- text: Of your freedom get closed\n  start_ms: 63050\n  end_ms: 64500\n- text: In the end we all reap what we sow\n  start_ms: 64500\n  end_ms: 66510\n- text: It go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\n  start_ms: 66510\n  end_ms: 69540\n- text: We was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\n  start_ms: 69540\n  end_ms: 72500\n- text: Children of Zion was choked by them yolks of iron\n  start_ms: 72500\n  end_ms: 75740\n- text: Now they screamin' let bygones be bygones\n  start_ms: 75740\n  end_ms: 78120\n- text: And burn icons, before they whitewash, everything bronze\n  start_ms: 78120\n  end_ms: 81770\n- text: Told the Israelites they took away they right to bear arms\n  start_ms: 81770\n  end_ms: 84710\n- text: Johnny Hawkins, captured us and started auctions\n  start_ms: 84710\n  end_ms: 87730\n- text: Back when cowboy spurs were for birth abortions\n  start_ms: 87730\n  end_ms: 90620\n- text: Queen Elizabeth, sponsored and she helped fund it\n  start_ms: 90620\n  end_ms: 93530\n- text: And we was slaughtered like some cattle\n  start_ms: 93530\n  end_ms: 95110\n- text: That been hunted through them jungles\n  start_ms: 95110\n  end_ms: 96640\n- text: Kept in dungeons, of London, in the fifteen hundreds\n  start_ms: 96640\n  end_ms: 99780\n- text: While they waited for the slaves the ship Mayflower brung in\n  start_ms: 99780\n  end_ms: 102500\n- text: Now if a riot was to rise, it'll still be genocide\n  start_ms: 102500\n  end_ms: 105980\n- text: Black on black crime, kept us fallin' behind\n  start_ms: 105980\n  end_ms: 108480\n- text: Involuntary servitude, had us servin' 'em food\n  start_ms: 108480\n  end_ms: 111550\n- text: A holocaust, of the last Jews, they shoulda been sued\n  start_ms: 111550\n  end_ms: 114540\n- text: Left our fathers in a solitude, sharpenin' spoons\n  start_ms: 114540\n  end_ms: 117690\n- text: On a chain gang singin' about poverty blues\n  start_ms: 117690\n  end_ms: 120440\n- text: It go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\n  start_ms: 120440\n  end_ms: 123410\n- text: We was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\n  start_ms: 123410\n  end_ms: 126390\n- text: It go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\n  start_ms: 126390\n  end_ms: 129450\n- text: We was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\n  start_ms: 129450\n  end_ms: 132430\n- text: It go chain gang, same things\n  start_ms: 132430\n  end_ms: 135120\n- text: Same faces, same names\n  start_ms: 135120\n  end_ms: 137040\n- text: Same hell, same flames\n  start_ms: 137040\n  end_ms: 138880\n- text: Chain gangs, chain gang, same names\n  start_ms: 138880\n  end_ms: 142240\n- text: Same faces, same hell, same flames\n  start_ms: 142240\n  end_ms: 147040\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 147040\n  end_ms: 157280\n- text: J.A. Rogers, part of the\n  start_ms: 157280\n  end_ms: 160150\n- text: JoAnne Chesimard, part of the\n  start_ms: 160150\n  end_ms: 163140\n- text: Harriet Tubman, part of the\n  start_ms: 163140\n  end_ms: 167590\n- text: This goes out\n  start_ms: 167590\n  end_ms: 169090\n- text: Sister Sojourner Truth, part of the\n  start_ms: 169090\n  end_ms: 172250\n- text: Che Guevara, part of the\n  start_ms: 172250\n  end_ms: 174340\n- text: To all those true\n  start_ms: 174340\n  end_ms: 175210\n- text: Malcolm X be part of the\n  start_ms: 175210\n  end_ms: 177230\n- text: True and livin' soldiers out there that die for the truth\n  start_ms: 177230\n  end_ms: 181160\n- text: Clarence 13X, part of the\n  start_ms: 181160\n  end_ms: 183050\n- text: Instead of Allah\n  start_ms: 183050\n  end_ms: 184050\n- text: Khalid Muhammad, part of the\n  start_ms: 184050\n  end_ms: 186400\n- text: People that\n  start_ms: 186400\n  end_ms: 187260\n- text: Rabbi Bivins, part of the\n  start_ms: 187260\n  end_ms: 189200\n- text: Left somethin' for us to survive off of, in these last days\n  start_ms: 189200\n  end_ms: 193190\n- text: Daddy Rose, part of the\n  start_ms: 193190\n  end_ms: 196260\n- text: Huey P. Newton, part of the\n  start_ms: 196260\n  end_ms: 199180\n- text: Dred Scott, part of the\n  start_ms: 199180\n  end_ms: 201970\n- text: That's how it go down\n  start_ms: 201970\n  end_ms: 205120\n- text: Nat Turner, part of the\n  start_ms: 205120\n  end_ms: 206020\n- text: We can't put it out in them schools\n  start_ms: 206020\n  end_ms: 208170\n- text: Nobutu Amin, part of the\n  start_ms: 208170\n  end_ms: 209060\n- text: We gon' put it out in hip hop\n  start_ms: 209060\n  end_ms: 210940\n- text: Fidel Castro, part of the\n  start_ms: 210940\n  end_ms: 217920\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 217920\nplain: |-\n  And I was on the chain gang\n  Chain gang, chain gang, always talk about the chain\n  Gang, man, the chain gang, does a hell of a thing\n\n  Renaissance Child, dedicated to Nat Turner\n  A true Maccabean rebel\n  Yo, let me tell y'all this story\n  They had us handcuffed on them sea ships, since the days of Egypt\n  Now we sittin' in the racist precinct\n  Black Hebrews, from centuries ago\n  Young negroes with dark skinned afros, who built castles\n  White halos, on black anglos\n  Who was sold like Joseph by his own brother\n  Later on to free his own mother\n  We only suffer cause of God love us\n  Given to the hands of blood suckers\n  A lost tribe that was undiscovered\n  Until the British came and bum rushed us\n  What you think my Desert Eagle's fo'?\n  That's why Moses told Pharaoh let his people go\n  Until this day that same evil grows\n  From overseers, to Caesars, to black C.O.'s\n  In a prison cell, livin' hell, naked and cold\n  You feel the chills when you hear them key holes\n  Of your freedom get closed\n  In the end we all reap what we sow\n\n  It go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\n  We was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\n\n  Children of Zion was choked by them yolks of iron\n  Now they screamin' let bygones be bygones\n  And burn icons, before they whitewash, everything bronze\n  Told the Israelites they took away they right to bear arms\n  Johnny Hawkins, captured us and started auctions\n  Back when cowboy spurs were for birth abortions\n  Queen Elizabeth, sponsored and she helped fund it\n  And we was slaughtered like some cattle\n  That been hunted through them jungles\n  Kept in dungeons, of London, in the fifteen hundreds\n  While they waited for the slaves the ship Mayflower brung in\n  Now if a riot was to rise, it'll still be genocide\n  Black on black crime, kept us fallin' behind\n  Involuntary servitude, had us servin' 'em food\n  A holocaust, of the last Jews, they shoulda been sued\n  Left our fathers in a solitude, sharpenin' spoons\n  On a chain gang singin' about poverty blues\n\n  It go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\n  We was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\n  It go, Deuteronomy twenty-eight, verse forty-eight\n  We was a chain gang, split up, and brought to these states\n\n  It go chain gang, same things\n  Same faces, same names\n  Same hell, same flames\n  Chain gangs, chain gang, same names\n  Same faces, same hell, same flames\n\n  J.A. Rogers, part of the\n  JoAnne Chesimard, part of the\n  Harriet Tubman, part of the\n  This goes out\n  Sister Sojourner Truth, part of the\n  Che Guevara, part of the\n  To all those true\n  Malcolm X be part of the\n  True and livin' soldiers out there that die for the truth\n  Clarence 13X, part of the\n  Instead of Allah\n  Khalid Muhammad, part of the\n  People that\n  Rabbi Bivins, part of the\n  Left somethin' for us to survive off of, in these last days\n  Daddy Rose, part of the\n  Huey P. Newton, part of the\n  Dred Scott, part of the\n  That's how it go down\n  Nat Turner, part of the\n  We can't put it out in them schools\n  Nobutu Amin, part of the\n  We gon' put it out in hip hop\n  Fidel Castro, part of the\n"},{"id":29597200,"name":"Musical Murdah","trackName":"Musical Murdah","artistName":"Hell Razah feat. Ras Kass","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":235.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yo, where the fuck you get these pictures from?\nYo, let me show you some shit, man\nC'mon, we gon' go in here (Renaissance)\nWe gon' see some shit on the walls in this fuckin' building\nYou ain't never seen before, seen before\n\nYou high, lookin' at the picture, that's when it begin\nYou see a arm out the icon, come snatch you in\nIt's hood hieroglyphics, it was written in graffiti scriptures\nFor all the twelve tribes leavin' with us\nThey got a new Pope, the seeds of Hitler\nWe spell Bush with a swastika, Adolf is Schwartzenegger\nMore coke, more ropes for our throats to kill us\nShippin' dope through the churches, delivered in hearses\nWhen you translate my verses, it's blesses and curses\nMusical murders, direct hearts from the strings of a harp\nThe warriors drum, at night time, give me a spark\nI ain't bark, or no Beethoven, made the heavens open\nFor all the instruments of slaves stolen\nIt's like holdin' on that shofar, blowin' on the Day of Atonement\nNow we followin' the ways of the Romans\nPlay guitars when we buildin' on Mars, in the Issachar bar\nMe and Priest share similar scars, seven stars\nCarved into my skin, what's poppin'?\nIt's somethin' much more to that death, of Johnnie Cochran\nI walk through the valley of kings, like Akhenaton\nAnd run up in the Vatican church, without a stockin'\n\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nMusical murder\n\nIt's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\nHell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\nYo, two years went on I vacation, just\nOne man, defyin' a nation\nWho else could chop pies in the basement\nThen turn around and sign with a Mason?\nDefine the relation between crime and inflation\nDominicano and Haitian\nThrow out all your old CDs, me and Hell Razah replaced 'em\nAnd now I'm gonna show you how the West Coast rocks\nBitches, pull out your titties like Courtney Love\nI'm like the sidewalk, call me, I support these blocks\nScorching hot, jailhouse tatted, four T-Glocks\nYou gon' need morphine shots, the pain is exquisite\nAnd your ride or die bitch, I'mma tell Xzibit to pimp it\nHa, old nigga, new nigga\nTryin' to take the spear of destiny and put it through niggas\nCrack Da Vinci's code, Ras the black Merovingian\nJesus Christ and Mary Magdalene's next of kin\nBut in the end, every three seconds a child dies in Africa\nGenocidal massacre, and rappers know I walk on walls\nLike tarantula, my flow is cancer, the answer\nTo why you on my dick like a catheter, I laugh at half of ya\nMortals can't withstand my velocity\nI flip the Earth's axis with a spatula, impossibly\nI'mma crack the surface, Captain Kirk is\nIn the hood like liquor stores and Baptist churches, motherfucker\nMusical murder\n\nIt's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\nHell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nI say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\nBut we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\nMaccabees, we deserve y'all apology\nBut this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\nMusical murder\n\nYou are now listening to the sounds of the Renaissance Child","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Musical Murdah\n  artist: Hell Razah feat. Ras Kass\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 235000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yo, where the fuck you get these pictures from?\n  Yo, let me show you some shit, man\n  C'mon, we gon' go in here (Renaissance)\n  We gon' see some shit on the walls in this fuckin' building\n  You ain't never seen before, seen before\n\n  You high, lookin' at the picture, that's when it begin\n  You see a arm out the icon, come snatch you in\n  It's hood hieroglyphics, it was written in graffiti scriptures\n  For all the twelve tribes leavin' with us\n  They got a new Pope, the seeds of Hitler\n  We spell Bush with a swastika, Adolf is Schwartzenegger\n  More coke, more ropes for our throats to kill us\n  Shippin' dope through the churches, delivered in hearses\n  When you translate my verses, it's blesses and curses\n  Musical murders, direct hearts from the strings of a harp\n  The warriors drum, at night time, give me a spark\n  I ain't bark, or no Beethoven, made the heavens open\n  For all the instruments of slaves stolen\n  It's like holdin' on that shofar, blowin' on the Day of Atonement\n  Now we followin' the ways of the Romans\n  Play guitars when we buildin' on Mars, in the Issachar bar\n  Me and Priest share similar scars, seven stars\n  Carved into my skin, what's poppin'?\n  It's somethin' much more to that death, of Johnnie Cochran\n  I walk through the valley of kings, like Akhenaton\n  And run up in the Vatican church, without a stockin'\n\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  Musical murder\n\n  It's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\n  Hell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\n  Yo, two years went on I vacation, just\n  One man, defyin' a nation\n  Who else could chop pies in the basement\n  Then turn around and sign with a Mason?\n  Define the relation between crime and inflation\n  Dominicano and Haitian\n  Throw out all your old CDs, me and Hell Razah replaced 'em\n  And now I'm gonna show you how the West Coast rocks\n  Bitches, pull out your titties like Courtney Love\n  I'm like the sidewalk, call me, I support these blocks\n  Scorching hot, jailhouse tatted, four T-Glocks\n  You gon' need morphine shots, the pain is exquisite\n  And your ride or die bitch, I'mma tell Xzibit to pimp it\n  Ha, old nigga, new nigga\n  Tryin' to take the spear of destiny and put it through niggas\n  Crack Da Vinci's code, Ras the black Merovingian\n  Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene's next of kin\n  But in the end, every three seconds a child dies in Africa\n  Genocidal massacre, and rappers know I walk on walls\n  Like tarantula, my flow is cancer, the answer\n  To why you on my dick like a catheter, I laugh at half of ya\n  Mortals can't withstand my velocity\n  I flip the Earth's axis with a spatula, impossibly\n  I'mma crack the surface, Captain Kirk is\n  In the hood like liquor stores and Baptist churches, motherfucker\n  Musical murder\n\n  It's murder he wrote, we murder these notes\n  Hell Razah, Ras Kass, you heard of me loc\n\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  I say this verse with honesty, for the poverty\n  But we been kings, since the Hisco's dynasty\n  Maccabees, we deserve y'all apology\n  But this is prophecy, a piece of God's property\n  Musical murder\n\n  You are now listening to the sounds of the Renaissance Child\n"},{"id":28377213,"name":"Los Pepes, Part 1","trackName":"Los Pepes, Part 1","artistName":"Hell Razah feat. Bronze Nazareth","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":213.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\nYo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) yo, we gotta get this nigga man\n(Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n\nHis name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\nEven could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\nThat grow good enough to make him extra dough\nIn my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n\nSmoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\nGot crooked cops even callin' him boss\nFour lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\nIn a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n\nIn the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\nToo tired, his fears was the best throw off\nTipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\nTell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n\nIn a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\nA mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\nSix o' clock gon' be a door knock\nCheck the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n\nEight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\nThat chauffer is part of the team\nBring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\nI got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n\nWhen ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\nWith a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\nHurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\nWe on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yeah\n\nI'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\nYo, God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\nI'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\nThe Al Green album with me\nMan, it's kinda leary out here\nHurry up!\n\nMeanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\nLookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\nBlendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\nRoll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n\nLook the other way, too many murders in town\nFrom the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\nWalk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n\nSheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\nTook ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\nTold the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\nNotified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n\nNow, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\nSix o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\nPablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n\nTwo hours to do a hand count, please sit still\nLoad the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\nEverything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\nA chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n\nBring the CREAM through the detection machine\nWe insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\nSend one of my doves out to the baggage claim\nLook for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\nHurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\nWe tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n\nI'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\nAin't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\nIf I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\nI'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\nYen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\nEscobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\nHis fall from grace is swift\nHis uncle is banished from the political scene\nAnd many of his assets are seized\n\n(Come along, when we to get there?)","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.85] What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\n[00:05.09] Yo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) yo, we gotta get this nigga man\n[00:07.73] (Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n[00:10.47] His name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\n[00:12.96] Even could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\n[00:15.95] That grow good enough to make him extra dough\n[00:18.23] In my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n[00:20.95] Smoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\n[00:24.04] Got crooked cops even callin' him boss\n[00:26.10] Four lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\n[00:28.66] In a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n[00:31.37] In the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\n[00:34.01] Too tired, his fears was the best throw off\n[00:36.28] Tipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\n[00:39.05] Tell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n[00:41.51] In a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\n[00:43.93] A mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\n[00:46.41] Six o' clock gon' be a door knock\n[00:48.67] Check the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n[00:51.49] Eight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\n[00:55.29] That chauffer is part of the team\n[00:56.99] Bring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\n[00:59.32] I got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n[01:02.13] When ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\n[01:04.78] With a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\n[01:07.15] Hurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\n[01:09.64] We on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yeah\n[01:12.01] I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[01:15.49] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[01:17.82] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n[01:20.38] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[01:22.85] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[01:25.62] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[01:28.11] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\n[01:30.82] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[01:33.09] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[01:35.87] Yo, God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\n[01:38.35] I'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\n[01:40.34] The Al Green album with me\n[01:41.51] Man, it's kinda leary out here\n[01:42.75] Hurry up!\n[01:42.90] Meanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\n[01:46.28] Lookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\n[01:48.46] Blendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\n[01:50.78] Roll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n[01:53.54] Look the other way, too many murders in town\n[01:55.78] From the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n[01:58.52] 20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\n[02:01.25] Walk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n[02:03.76] Sheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\n[02:06.21] Took ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\n[02:08.95] Told the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\n[02:11.45] Notified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n[02:13.93] Now, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n[02:16.48] 20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\n[02:18.84] Six o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\n[02:21.59] Pablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n[02:24.42] Two hours to do a hand count, please sit still\n[02:26.54] Load the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\n[02:29.38] Everything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\n[02:31.85] A chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n[02:34.63] Bring the CREAM through the detection machine\n[02:36.53] We insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\n[02:39.39] Send one of my doves out to the baggage claim\n[02:41.85] Look for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\n[02:44.65] Hurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\n[02:46.87] We tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n[02:49.72] I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[02:52.71] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[02:55.21] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n[02:57.84] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[03:00.26] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[03:03.02] Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n[03:05.52] If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n[03:08.03] I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n[03:10.41] Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n[03:14.17] Escobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\n[03:17.62] His fall from grace is swift\n[03:20.53] His uncle is banished from the political scene\n[03:23.23] And many of his assets are seized\n[03:25.58] (Come along, when we to get there?)\n[03:32.15] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Los Pepes, Part 1\n  artist: Hell Razah feat. Bronze Nazareth\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 213000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\n  start_ms: 1850\n  end_ms: 5090\n- text: Yo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) yo, we gotta get this nigga man\n  start_ms: 5090\n  end_ms: 7730\n- text: (Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n  start_ms: 7730\n  end_ms: 10470\n- text: His name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\n  start_ms: 10470\n  end_ms: 12960\n- text: Even could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\n  start_ms: 12960\n  end_ms: 15950\n- text: That grow good enough to make him extra dough\n  start_ms: 15950\n  end_ms: 18230\n- text: In my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n  start_ms: 18230\n  end_ms: 20950\n- text: Smoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\n  start_ms: 20950\n  end_ms: 24040\n- text: Got crooked cops even callin' him boss\n  start_ms: 24040\n  end_ms: 26100\n- text: Four lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\n  start_ms: 26100\n  end_ms: 28660\n- text: In a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n  start_ms: 28660\n  end_ms: 31370\n- text: In the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\n  start_ms: 31370\n  end_ms: 34010\n- text: Too tired, his fears was the best throw off\n  start_ms: 34010\n  end_ms: 36280\n- text: Tipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\n  start_ms: 36280\n  end_ms: 39050\n- text: Tell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n  start_ms: 39050\n  end_ms: 41510\n- text: In a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\n  start_ms: 41510\n  end_ms: 43930\n- text: A mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\n  start_ms: 43930\n  end_ms: 46410\n- text: Six o' clock gon' be a door knock\n  start_ms: 46410\n  end_ms: 48670\n- text: Check the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n  start_ms: 48670\n  end_ms: 51490\n- text: Eight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\n  start_ms: 51490\n  end_ms: 55290\n- text: That chauffer is part of the team\n  start_ms: 55290\n  end_ms: 56990\n- text: Bring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\n  start_ms: 56990\n  end_ms: 59320\n- text: I got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n  start_ms: 59320\n  end_ms: 62130\n- text: When ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\n  start_ms: 62130\n  end_ms: 64780\n- text: With a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\n  start_ms: 64780\n  end_ms: 67150\n- text: Hurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\n  start_ms: 67150\n  end_ms: 69640\n- text: We on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yeah\n  start_ms: 69640\n  end_ms: 72010\n- text: I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 72010\n  end_ms: 75490\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 75490\n  end_ms: 77820\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  start_ms: 77820\n  end_ms: 80380\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 80380\n  end_ms: 82850\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 82850\n  end_ms: 85620\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 85620\n  end_ms: 88110\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\n  start_ms: 88110\n  end_ms: 90820\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 90820\n  end_ms: 93090\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 93090\n  end_ms: 95870\n- text: Yo, God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\n  start_ms: 95870\n  end_ms: 98350\n- text: I'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\n  start_ms: 98350\n  end_ms: 100340\n- text: The Al Green album with me\n  start_ms: 100340\n  end_ms: 101510\n- text: Man, it's kinda leary out here\n  start_ms: 101510\n  end_ms: 102750\n- text: Hurry up!\n  start_ms: 102750\n  end_ms: 102900\n- text: Meanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\n  start_ms: 102900\n  end_ms: 106280\n- text: Lookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\n  start_ms: 106280\n  end_ms: 108460\n- text: Blendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\n  start_ms: 108460\n  end_ms: 110780\n- text: Roll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n  start_ms: 110780\n  end_ms: 113540\n- text: Look the other way, too many murders in town\n  start_ms: 113540\n  end_ms: 115780\n- text: From the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n  start_ms: 115780\n  end_ms: 118520\n- text: 20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\n  start_ms: 118520\n  end_ms: 121250\n- text: Walk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n  start_ms: 121250\n  end_ms: 123760\n- text: Sheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\n  start_ms: 123760\n  end_ms: 126210\n- text: Took ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\n  start_ms: 126210\n  end_ms: 128950\n- text: Told the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\n  start_ms: 128950\n  end_ms: 131450\n- text: Notified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n  start_ms: 131450\n  end_ms: 133930\n- text: Now, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n  start_ms: 133930\n  end_ms: 136480\n- text: 20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\n  start_ms: 136480\n  end_ms: 138840\n- text: Six o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\n  start_ms: 138840\n  end_ms: 141590\n- text: Pablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n  start_ms: 141590\n  end_ms: 144420\n- text: Two hours to do a hand count, please sit still\n  start_ms: 144420\n  end_ms: 146540\n- text: Load the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\n  start_ms: 146540\n  end_ms: 149380\n- text: Everything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\n  start_ms: 149380\n  end_ms: 151850\n- text: A chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n  start_ms: 151850\n  end_ms: 154630\n- text: Bring the CREAM through the detection machine\n  start_ms: 154630\n  end_ms: 156530\n- text: We insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\n  start_ms: 156530\n  end_ms: 159390\n- text: Send one of my doves out to the baggage claim\n  start_ms: 159390\n  end_ms: 161850\n- text: Look for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\n  start_ms: 161850\n  end_ms: 164650\n- text: Hurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\n  start_ms: 164650\n  end_ms: 166870\n- text: We tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n  start_ms: 166870\n  end_ms: 169720\n- text: I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 169720\n  end_ms: 172710\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 172710\n  end_ms: 175210\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  start_ms: 175210\n  end_ms: 177840\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 177840\n  end_ms: 180260\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 180260\n  end_ms: 183020\n- text: Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  start_ms: 183020\n  end_ms: 185520\n- text: If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  start_ms: 185520\n  end_ms: 188030\n- text: I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  start_ms: 188030\n  end_ms: 190410\n- text: Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  start_ms: 190410\n  end_ms: 194170\n- text: Escobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\n  start_ms: 194170\n  end_ms: 197620\n- text: His fall from grace is swift\n  start_ms: 197620\n  end_ms: 200530\n- text: His uncle is banished from the political scene\n  start_ms: 200530\n  end_ms: 203230\n- text: And many of his assets are seized\n  start_ms: 203230\n  end_ms: 205580\n- text: (Come along, when we to get there?)\n  start_ms: 205580\n  end_ms: 212150\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 212150\nplain: |-\n  What's else? I'm on my way to see him right now (s-sniffin' is life for -)\n  Yo, you buggin' man! (Yeah) yo, we gotta get this nigga man\n  (Don't worry about that, son) you still sniffin' that shit, man? you got sniffin' man (I'm on it, I'm on it)\n\n  His name is Pablo, he snowed like an eskimo\n  Even could smuggle it through Mexico, the best of 'dro\n  That grow good enough to make him extra dough\n  In my ghetto we know him as White Diablo\n\n  Smoke coke off a passport, a lot of love in New York\n  Got crooked cops even callin' him boss\n  Four lawyers paid off for some chicks that transport\n  In a Jansport, still, it ain't cut ya hands off\n\n  In the ward or the section where they drop the grams off\n  Too tired, his fears was the best throw off\n  Tipped the doorman a grand without touchin' his hand (\"How you doin'?\")\n  Tell him, \"Stand there and signal if there's federal vans\"\n\n  In a penthouse with 20 ki's under the couch\n  A mastermind to the kitty game with cat and mouse\n  Six o' clock gon' be a door knock\n  Check the money in the suitcase and make sure you load up the Glocks\n\n  Eight o'clock you gon' flee the scene, downstairs is a Limousine\n  That chauffer is part of the team\n  Bring my CREAM through La Guardia, fuck the monitor\n  I got men in that security room shinin' my shoes\n\n  When ya ass get off that plane, I'm in the baggage claim\n  With a sign of ya last name, holdin' a cane\n  Hurry up and bring my money, I ain't playin' no games\n  We on our way to hit the stockin' exchange, yeah\n\n  I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin' out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\n  Yo, God, what's good man? Where you at, man?\n  I'm on three, I got the Barry White album with me\n  The Al Green album with me\n  Man, it's kinda leary out here\n  Hurry up!\n\n  Meanwhile, a Wayne Metro, fillin' Petro in a 745\n  Lookin' for the purple bag with the Devil's emblem\n  Blendin' employee style, transfer the pounds\n  Roll weed in my passport, slip past four hounds\n\n  Look the other way, too many murders in town\n  From the sky view we rain rocks Larry Chambers style\n  20 birds with four corrupt lawyers in their pocket\n  Walk with a gat but ki in each of their vaginas\n\n  Sheets spread on the plane to remain anonymous\n  Took ten cabs to the Historia from La Guardia\n  Told the doorman, \"Lookout for unmarked vans\"\n  Notified this bust nearby, his day was goin' grand\n\n  Now, I'm in, dissect the couch in the pit house\n  20 ki's, no trouble please and shots ring out\n  Six o' clock, you not, still sniffin' his brains out\n  Pablo main route, come up short, pencil ya frame out\n\n  Two hours to do a hand count, please sit still\n  Load the flocks into the Glocks, it's mornin' so just chill\n  Everything routine, 8 p.m. to the Limousine\n  A chauffeur with no words, he knows the novel scheme\n\n  Bring the CREAM through the detection machine\n  We insured on the other side of the lens, our luggage is clean\n  Send one of my doves out to the baggage claim\n  Look for the Sun of Man, young face with Dragon and King\n  Hurry up, bring the money up or we'll garnish ya wage\n  We tryin' to get out to the stockin' exchange (stockin' exchange)\n\n  I'm 'bout Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n  Ain't no catchin' no bodies until I say so\n  If I ain't baggin' up 'dro, givin out halos\n  I'm on that overtime grind, makin' my bankroll\n  Yen, Pounds, Euros and Pesos\n\n  Escobar's criminal history surfaces in the Colombian press\n  His fall from grace is swift\n  His uncle is banished from the political scene\n  And many of his assets are seized\n\n  (Come along, when we to get there?)\n"},{"id":28376692,"name":"Project Jazz","trackName":"Project Jazz","artistName":"Hell Razah feat. Talib Kweli & Viktor Vaughn","albumName":"Renaissance Child","duration":226.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Renaissance... Razah Rubies...*\nLet's go, tell 'em\nI was born in the era of kings, of heroin dreams\nNow it be a Maccabee, spreading my wings (spread 'em)\nI ain't trippin' off material bling\nI analyze off of Billie Holiday, the queen\nWhat was Marvin Gaye thinking when he wrote that theme\nA Trouble Man, why his pops had a gun his hand, damn\nHip hop go to way back then\nDiddy used to sing doo-wop with two of his friends\nI seen an oo-wop when I was like ten, excited by sin\nI got my first gold front from Ben\nEighty-nine, I was into Rakim, for dropping gems\nMost niggas learned a lot from him\nGrandma used to cook with sounds of Sam Cooke\nMid-60's, my moms then moved to Red\nSame hood Al Capone was put, and got his rep as a crook\nIn them criminal books, we don't look\nA crack hit I could never forget\nIn '92 Mr. Daily was hit by gun clips\nYou had to pump if you wanted some kicks\nThe best product on the block, it was quicker to flip\nWe had whips, but it wasn't legit\nI reminisce, Calvin Klein, he was running the shit\n'76 came a heavenly prince, with one gift\nTo uplift, by the name Charon Smith\nDedicated to Miss Caroline Smith\nSpecial love and respect\nTo real true pioneers (yeah), people like Ray Charles (we in here)\nBarry White, let's get back into the hall of fame, come on\nYo, yo, it's like we all just beef and the strengths\nSon is blind like a boxer that bleed in the ring\nFrom a cut opened up above his right eye\nBody all black and blue, like the Brooklyn nice guy, uh\nBobbing and weaving, and dodging the propaganda\nMy raps take it back like shopping at Alexander's\nMy momma had the fly afro, my father cooked for a week and left all us with the casarole\nWe didn't have much, but with a little bit of love\nMade due with the little bit we had, yo\nWe in a new millennium, Granny still singing Hem Slow\nJim Crow's still keep the blacks po'\nLook we blessed with the power to move people with music\nIt's the natural resources, and we use it to broadcast and transmit live from hell\nWhat don't kill you, make you stronger, I'm allowed to tell\nHurry up, hurry up, hurry up, man\nYo, yo, make sure you write it on the wall\nMake sure it say, Renaissance Child\nTalib Kweli, MF Doom, written for the babies\nLet's go\nVik slick talk, with a cough full of North\nOf course New York floss, don't know and blew pork\nBefore you walk across, look both ways\nThe third and the fourth of them nowaday old phase\nKept a dog on a wooden leg and hustled all night in the fog on the red\nEven dressed like a bum and could beg\nInstead use the other on the strength, what a good head\nBeen bred to win, since headspins, ooh them gems\nSpread too thin, depends on who's losing\nHeads do spin, it's deaded, now who's in?\nRevenge all here, enough combined slang to bang all year\nIt's on, like it ain't never been on cordless before\nReport for lawless, ports is off shore\nWith horses, hanging the tablets, mating with rappers\nHabits til they hate 'em and had it, damn it\nAnd it's gone with the wind, dead wrong\nA song, with a spin and a grin\nOut of style, with the blow out for mild mannered smile\nLike a foul wild Spaniard on the soul out\nVaughn, the one you trick-a-don\nWhy stick it, if you gotta slip a snicker on, Viktor Vaughn\nYeah, to all the Cadillac riders, and it's on\nAs it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end\nAll the fathers with the godfathers, hip hop lives forever and ever\nAnd ever... this is something you gon' be able to pass down to your babies\nFrom generation to generation, that's right, aight?\nOne love... and we out of here\n","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.08]Renaissance... Razah Rubies...*\n[00:07.33]Let's go, tell 'em\n[00:08.29]I was born in the era of kings, of heroin dreams\n[00:10.95]Now it be a Maccabee, spreading my wings (spread 'em)\n[00:12.86]I ain't trippin' off material bling\n[00:14.61]I analyze off of Billie Holiday, the queen\n[00:17.38]What was Marvin Gaye thinking when he wrote that theme\n[00:19.18]A Trouble Man, why his pops had a gun his hand, damn\n[00:21.89]Hip hop go to way back then\n[00:22.71]Diddy used to sing doo-wop with two of his friends\n[00:25.40]I seen an oo-wop when I was like ten, excited by sin\n[00:27.22]I got my first gold front from Ben\n[00:30.09]Eighty-nine, I was into Rakim, for dropping gems\n[00:31.86]Most niggas learned a lot from him\n[00:33.62]Grandma used to cook with sounds of Sam Cooke\n[00:36.33]Mid-60's, my moms then moved to Red\n[00:38.15]Same hood Al Capone was put, and got his rep as a crook\n[00:40.80]In them criminal books, we don't look\n[00:42.61]A crack hit I could never forget\n[00:44.44]In '92 Mr. Daily was hit by gun clips\n[00:46.20]You had to pump if you wanted some kicks\n[00:48.04]The best product on the block, it was quicker to flip\n[00:50.72]We had whips, but it wasn't legit\n[00:52.57]I reminisce, Calvin Klein, he was running the shit\n[00:54.31]'76 came a heavenly prince, with one gift\n[00:57.13]To uplift, by the name Charon Smith\n[00:58.92]Dedicated to Miss Caroline Smith\n[01:03.43]Special love and respect\n[01:06.11]To real true pioneers (yeah), people like Ray Charles (we in here)\n[01:12.44]Barry White, let's get back into the hall of fame, come on\n[01:15.18]Yo, yo, it's like we all just beef and the strengths\n[01:17.90]Son is blind like a boxer that bleed in the ring\n[01:19.79]From a cut opened up above his right eye\n[01:21.58]Body all black and blue, like the Brooklyn nice guy, uh\n[01:24.25]Bobbing and weaving, and dodging the propaganda\n[01:26.04]My raps take it back like shopping at Alexander's\n[01:28.79]My momma had the fly afro, my father cooked for a week and left all us with the casarole\n[01:32.34]We didn't have much, but with a little bit of love\n[01:35.01]Made due with the little bit we had, yo\n[01:36.89]We in a new millennium, Granny still singing Hem Slow\n[01:39.65]Jim Crow's still keep the blacks po'\n[01:41.42]Look we blessed with the power to move people with music\n[01:43.22]It's the natural resources, and we use it to broadcast and transmit live from hell\n[01:46.84]What don't kill you, make you stronger, I'm allowed to tell\n[01:48.68]Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, man\n[01:53.14]Yo, yo, make sure you write it on the wall\n[01:56.88]Make sure it say, Renaissance Child\n[02:00.44]Talib Kweli, MF Doom, written for the babies\n[02:04.94]Let's go\n[02:05.89]Vik slick talk, with a cough full of North\n[02:08.59]Of course New York floss, don't know and blew pork\n[02:10.35]Before you walk across, look both ways\n[02:12.14]The third and the fourth of them nowaday old phase\n[02:14.82]Kept a dog on a wooden leg and hustled all night in the fog on the red\n[02:18.53]Even dressed like a bum and could beg\n[02:21.26]Instead use the other on the strength, what a good head\n[02:23.05]Been bred to win, since headspins, ooh them gems\n[02:27.55]Spread too thin, depends on who's losing\n[02:29.30]Heads do spin, it's deaded, now who's in?\n[02:31.17]Revenge all here, enough combined slang to bang all year\n[02:35.60]It's on, like it ain't never been on cordless before\n[02:37.49]Report for lawless, ports is off shore\n[02:39.36]With horses, hanging the tablets, mating with rappers\n[02:42.99]Habits til they hate 'em and had it, damn it\n[02:44.77]And it's gone with the wind, dead wrong\n[02:46.52]A song, with a spin and a grin\n[02:48.32]Out of style, with the blow out for mild mannered smile\n[02:50.17]Like a foul wild Spaniard on the soul out\n[02:52.86]Vaughn, the one you trick-a-don\n[02:53.74]Why stick it, if you gotta slip a snicker on, Viktor Vaughn\n[02:56.56]Yeah, to all the Cadillac riders, and it's on\n[03:04.71]As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end\n[03:08.36]All the fathers with the godfathers, hip hop lives forever and ever\n[03:11.98]And ever... this is something you gon' be able to pass down to your babies\n[03:17.46]From generation to generation, that's right, aight?\n[03:21.95]One love... and we out of here\n[03:36.43]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Project Jazz\n  artist: Hell Razah feat. Talib Kweli & Viktor Vaughn\n  album: Renaissance Child\n  duration_ms: 226000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Renaissance... Razah Rubies...*\n  start_ms: 80\n  end_ms: 7330\n- text: Let's go, tell 'em\n  start_ms: 7330\n  end_ms: 8290\n- text: I was born in the era of kings, of heroin dreams\n  start_ms: 8290\n  end_ms: 10950\n- text: Now it be a Maccabee, spreading my wings (spread 'em)\n  start_ms: 10950\n  end_ms: 12860\n- text: I ain't trippin' off material bling\n  start_ms: 12860\n  end_ms: 14610\n- text: I analyze off of Billie Holiday, the queen\n  start_ms: 14610\n  end_ms: 17380\n- text: What was Marvin Gaye thinking when he wrote that theme\n  start_ms: 17380\n  end_ms: 19180\n- text: A Trouble Man, why his pops had a gun his hand, damn\n  start_ms: 19180\n  end_ms: 21890\n- text: Hip hop go to way back then\n  start_ms: 21890\n  end_ms: 22710\n- text: Diddy used to sing doo-wop with two of his friends\n  start_ms: 22710\n  end_ms: 25400\n- text: I seen an oo-wop when I was like ten, excited by sin\n  start_ms: 25400\n  end_ms: 27220\n- text: I got my first gold front from Ben\n  start_ms: 27220\n  end_ms: 30090\n- text: Eighty-nine, I was into Rakim, for dropping gems\n  start_ms: 30090\n  end_ms: 31860\n- text: Most niggas learned a lot from him\n  start_ms: 31860\n  end_ms: 33620\n- text: Grandma used to cook with sounds of Sam Cooke\n  start_ms: 33620\n  end_ms: 36330\n- text: Mid-60's, my moms then moved to Red\n  start_ms: 36330\n  end_ms: 38150\n- text: Same hood Al Capone was put, and got his rep as a crook\n  start_ms: 38150\n  end_ms: 40800\n- text: In them criminal books, we don't look\n  start_ms: 40800\n  end_ms: 42610\n- text: A crack hit I could never forget\n  start_ms: 42610\n  end_ms: 44440\n- text: In '92 Mr. Daily was hit by gun clips\n  start_ms: 44440\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: You had to pump if you wanted some kicks\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 48040\n- text: The best product on the block, it was quicker to flip\n  start_ms: 48040\n  end_ms: 50720\n- text: We had whips, but it wasn't legit\n  start_ms: 50720\n  end_ms: 52570\n- text: I reminisce, Calvin Klein, he was running the shit\n  start_ms: 52570\n  end_ms: 54310\n- text: '''76 came a heavenly prince, with one gift'\n  start_ms: 54310\n  end_ms: 57130\n- text: To uplift, by the name Charon Smith\n  start_ms: 57130\n  end_ms: 58920\n- text: Dedicated to Miss Caroline Smith\n  start_ms: 58920\n  end_ms: 63430\n- text: Special love and respect\n  start_ms: 63430\n  end_ms: 66110\n- text: To real true pioneers (yeah), people like Ray Charles (we in here)\n  start_ms: 66110\n  end_ms: 72440\n- text: Barry White, let's get back into the hall of fame, come on\n  start_ms: 72440\n  end_ms: 75180\n- text: Yo, yo, it's like we all just beef and the strengths\n  start_ms: 75180\n  end_ms: 77900\n- text: Son is blind like a boxer that bleed in the ring\n  start_ms: 77900\n  end_ms: 79790\n- text: From a cut opened up above his right eye\n  start_ms: 79790\n  end_ms: 81580\n- text: Body all black and blue, like the Brooklyn nice guy, uh\n  start_ms: 81580\n  end_ms: 84250\n- text: Bobbing and weaving, and dodging the propaganda\n  start_ms: 84250\n  end_ms: 86040\n- text: My raps take it back like shopping at Alexander's\n  start_ms: 86040\n  end_ms: 88790\n- text: My momma had the fly afro, my father cooked for a week and left all us with the casarole\n  start_ms: 88790\n  end_ms: 92340\n- text: We didn't have much, but with a little bit of love\n  start_ms: 92340\n  end_ms: 95010\n- text: Made due with the little bit we had, yo\n  start_ms: 95010\n  end_ms: 96890\n- text: We in a new millennium, Granny still singing Hem Slow\n  start_ms: 96890\n  end_ms: 99650\n- text: Jim Crow's still keep the blacks po'\n  start_ms: 99650\n  end_ms: 101420\n- text: Look we blessed with the power to move people with music\n  start_ms: 101420\n  end_ms: 103220\n- text: It's the natural resources, and we use it to broadcast and transmit live from hell\n  start_ms: 103220\n  end_ms: 106840\n- text: What don't kill you, make you stronger, I'm allowed to tell\n  start_ms: 106840\n  end_ms: 108680\n- text: Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, man\n  start_ms: 108680\n  end_ms: 113140\n- text: Yo, yo, make sure you write it on the wall\n  start_ms: 113140\n  end_ms: 116880\n- text: Make sure it say, Renaissance Child\n  start_ms: 116880\n  end_ms: 120440\n- text: Talib Kweli, MF Doom, written for the babies\n  start_ms: 120440\n  end_ms: 124940\n- text: Let's go\n  start_ms: 124940\n  end_ms: 125890\n- text: Vik slick talk, with a cough full of North\n  start_ms: 125890\n  end_ms: 128590\n- text: Of course New York floss, don't know and blew pork\n  start_ms: 128590\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: Before you walk across, look both ways\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 132140\n- text: The third and the fourth of them nowaday old phase\n  start_ms: 132140\n  end_ms: 134820\n- text: Kept a dog on a wooden leg and hustled all night in the fog on the red\n  start_ms: 134820\n  end_ms: 138530\n- text: Even dressed like a bum and could beg\n  start_ms: 138530\n  end_ms: 141260\n- text: Instead use the other on the strength, what a good head\n  start_ms: 141260\n  end_ms: 143050\n- text: Been bred to win, since headspins, ooh them gems\n  start_ms: 143050\n  end_ms: 147550\n- text: Spread too thin, depends on who's losing\n  start_ms: 147550\n  end_ms: 149300\n- text: Heads do spin, it's deaded, now who's in?\n  start_ms: 149300\n  end_ms: 151170\n- text: Revenge all here, enough combined slang to bang all year\n  start_ms: 151170\n  end_ms: 155600\n- text: It's on, like it ain't never been on cordless before\n  start_ms: 155600\n  end_ms: 157490\n- text: Report for lawless, ports is off shore\n  start_ms: 157490\n  end_ms: 159360\n- text: With horses, hanging the tablets, mating with rappers\n  start_ms: 159360\n  end_ms: 162990\n- text: Habits til they hate 'em and had it, damn it\n  start_ms: 162990\n  end_ms: 164770\n- text: And it's gone with the wind, dead wrong\n  start_ms: 164770\n  end_ms: 166520\n- text: A song, with a spin and a grin\n  start_ms: 166520\n  end_ms: 168320\n- text: Out of style, with the blow out for mild mannered smile\n  start_ms: 168320\n  end_ms: 170170\n- text: Like a foul wild Spaniard on the soul out\n  start_ms: 170170\n  end_ms: 172860\n- text: Vaughn, the one you trick-a-don\n  start_ms: 172860\n  end_ms: 173740\n- text: Why stick it, if you gotta slip a snicker on, Viktor Vaughn\n  start_ms: 173740\n  end_ms: 176560\n- text: Yeah, to all the Cadillac riders, and it's on\n  start_ms: 176560\n  end_ms: 184710\n- text: As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end\n  start_ms: 184710\n  end_ms: 188360\n- text: All the fathers with the godfathers, hip hop lives forever and ever\n  start_ms: 188360\n  end_ms: 191980\n- text: And ever... this is something you gon' be able to pass down to your babies\n  start_ms: 191980\n  end_ms: 197460\n- text: From generation to generation, that's right, aight?\n  start_ms: 197460\n  end_ms: 201950\n- text: One love... and we out of here\n  start_ms: 201950\n  end_ms: 216430\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 216430\nplain: |\n  Renaissance... Razah Rubies...*\n  Let's go, tell 'em\n  I was born in the era of kings, of heroin dreams\n  Now it be a Maccabee, spreading my wings (spread 'em)\n  I ain't trippin' off material bling\n  I analyze off of Billie Holiday, the queen\n  What was Marvin Gaye thinking when he wrote that theme\n  A Trouble Man, why his pops had a gun his hand, damn\n  Hip hop go to way back then\n  Diddy used to sing doo-wop with two of his friends\n  I seen an oo-wop when I was like ten, excited by sin\n  I got my first gold front from Ben\n  Eighty-nine, I was into Rakim, for dropping gems\n  Most niggas learned a lot from him\n  Grandma used to cook with sounds of Sam Cooke\n  Mid-60's, my moms then moved to Red\n  Same hood Al Capone was put, and got his rep as a crook\n  In them criminal books, we don't look\n  A crack hit I could never forget\n  In '92 Mr. Daily was hit by gun clips\n  You had to pump if you wanted some kicks\n  The best product on the block, it was quicker to flip\n  We had whips, but it wasn't legit\n  I reminisce, Calvin Klein, he was running the shit\n  '76 came a heavenly prince, with one gift\n  To uplift, by the name Charon Smith\n  Dedicated to Miss Caroline Smith\n  Special love and respect\n  To real true pioneers (yeah), people like Ray Charles (we in here)\n  Barry White, let's get back into the hall of fame, come on\n  Yo, yo, it's like we all just beef and the strengths\n  Son is blind like a boxer that bleed in the ring\n  From a cut opened up above his right eye\n  Body all black and blue, like the Brooklyn nice guy, uh\n  Bobbing and weaving, and dodging the propaganda\n  My raps take it back like shopping at Alexander's\n  My momma had the fly afro, my father cooked for a week and left all us with the casarole\n  We didn't have much, but with a little bit of love\n  Made due with the little bit we had, yo\n  We in a new millennium, Granny still singing Hem Slow\n  Jim Crow's still keep the blacks po'\n  Look we blessed with the power to move people with music\n  It's the natural resources, and we use it to broadcast and transmit live from hell\n  What don't kill you, make you stronger, I'm allowed to tell\n  Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up, man\n  Yo, yo, make sure you write it on the wall\n  Make sure it say, Renaissance Child\n  Talib Kweli, MF Doom, written for the babies\n  Let's go\n  Vik slick talk, with a cough full of North\n  Of course New York floss, don't know and blew pork\n  Before you walk across, look both ways\n  The third and the fourth of them nowaday old phase\n  Kept a dog on a wooden leg and hustled all night in the fog on the red\n  Even dressed like a bum and could beg\n  Instead use the other on the strength, what a good head\n  Been bred to win, since headspins, ooh them gems\n  Spread too thin, depends on who's losing\n  Heads do spin, it's deaded, now who's in?\n  Revenge all here, enough combined slang to bang all year\n  It's on, like it ain't never been on cordless before\n  Report for lawless, ports is off shore\n  With horses, hanging the tablets, mating with rappers\n  Habits til they hate 'em and had it, damn it\n  And it's gone with the wind, dead wrong\n  A song, with a spin and a grin\n  Out of style, with the blow out for mild mannered smile\n  Like a foul wild Spaniard on the soul out\n  Vaughn, the one you trick-a-don\n  Why stick it, if you gotta slip a snicker on, Viktor Vaughn\n  Yeah, to all the Cadillac riders, and it's on\n  As it was in the beginning, so shall it be in the end\n  All the fathers with the godfathers, hip hop lives forever and ever\n  And ever... this is something you gon' be able to pass down to your babies\n  From generation to generation, that's right, aight?\n  One love... and we out of here\n"},{"id":14925621,"name":"Renaissance 2.0","trackName":"Renaissance 2.0","artistName":"R.A. The Rugged Man, Hell Razah, Tragedy Khadafi, Timbo King","albumName":"Legendary Classics, Vol. 1","duration":212.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"1-2, 1-2, girl you could hear me?\n1-2, turn me up\n\nI've been a threat since Benetton, Gazelles and Ballys\nThe icon and graffiti in the Brooklyn alley\nTouch hearts of the pharaohs in the Egypt valley\nMy engineer can't see me cause the booth is cloudy\nStill rowdy even though we in BMs and Audis\nLooking like black Saudis in black Denalis\nI'ma terrorist attack when I get on the track\nIf I'm riding shotgun, I need one in my lap\nI adapt to any habitat, a BK desert rat\nIt's war, then we sending back bodies and gats\nPut up your white flag homey, it get worst than Iraq\nWe know the CIA game was to frame us with crack\nSo each bar's more dope, heroin in my pen\nGot a Marvin, back robbing, head nodding again\nWho you shit on to get on top could make it pop in the end\nWho's a flop and what's hot got you locked in the gym\nTell Jacob I spit jewels I could drop him a gem\nAnd if he's looking for a diamond I could 'em with Timb\n\nI'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\nIt was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\nNow we bring the game back into a New York field\nI'm Hip Hop before Sugarhill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\nI'm Hip Hop (since EPMD 'You Gots to Chill')\nI'm Hip Hop (since Beastie Boys 'Licensed to Ill')\n\nI'm Christopher Wallace with street knowledge, apostle of the projects\nSneaker boxes with the g-packs stuffed in a G's closet\nI'm tenement buildings, cement streets\nI'm British Walkers, I'm scuff marks on your brand new Ellesse\n5% Nation of Godbodies, greeting with peace\nI'm raw like Kane, my lyrics are formed in solid rock\nSpit it hotter than '86 on drug infested blocks\nLast photo of Pac before his Beamer got shot\nI'm the Queens, one man Supreme Team, triple beam dream\nMicrophone cream fiend, top five dead or alive, I'm so amazing\n2-5 costra nostra, heart of this culture\nThe game ain't over\nI'm the truce troop war reporter, legal life stick you\nAgainst All Odds, not the ordinary shit you use to\nI'm C-Murder before the life sentence\nPredicate felons, homicide chasing niggas, hopping over benches\n\nI'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\nIt was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\nNow we bring the game back into a New York field\nI'm Hip Hop\n\nThe best, oh yes, I guess, suggest the rest should fess\nI'm Tribe Quest, I'm Moe Dee 'Wild West'\nTreach, Naughty, Jazz Jeff, Slick Rick, I'm Doug Fresh\nI'm Def, I'm Canibus before he met Wyclef\nOriginal, I don't bite, I don't need nobody to ghostwrite\nKool G Rap strike the mic, I recite the type of hype that you like\nI'm Sweetback, I'm Uptown Saturday Night\nI'm Black Caesar, I'm Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite\nI'm an assassin rapping\nI'm Grand Wizzard Theodore when he invented scratching\nI'm Wu-Tang Killa Bee, epitome of Public Enemy\nGambling, hustling like Smoothe and Trigger be bitter, b\nBums diggedy-diggedy, Das literally\nI'm Pun in the middle of Little Italy, didn't do diddly\nDidn't he listen to me, I'm all good, I'm hood\nI'm Ice Cube before he turned soft and went Hollywood\nI'm Poetic from Gravediggaz, I'm ODB\nI'm HeadQCourterz, I'm Ted Demme, I'm Paul C\nIf I ain't better than Big, I'm the closest\nI'm Richard Pryor before multiple sclerosis\nI'm beef, I'm gold teeth, peace\nMantronix, Stetasonic, Symbolic, Bambaataa, Soul Sonic\nI'm Dre 'the Chronic', Melodic with logic Islamic\nA poverty prophet, economy robbery, cock it\nI probably properly drop it, it gotta be honesty\nOpposite a novelty, 'Rockit', I Herbie Hancock-it\nI'm Onyx Throwin' Ya Gun, I'm Funky 4 + 1","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Renaissance 2.0\n  artist: R.A. The Rugged Man, Hell Razah, Tragedy Khadafi, Timbo King\n  album: Legendary Classics, Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 212000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  1-2, 1-2, girl you could hear me?\n  1-2, turn me up\n\n  I've been a threat since Benetton, Gazelles and Ballys\n  The icon and graffiti in the Brooklyn alley\n  Touch hearts of the pharaohs in the Egypt valley\n  My engineer can't see me cause the booth is cloudy\n  Still rowdy even though we in BMs and Audis\n  Looking like black Saudis in black Denalis\n  I'ma terrorist attack when I get on the track\n  If I'm riding shotgun, I need one in my lap\n  I adapt to any habitat, a BK desert rat\n  It's war, then we sending back bodies and gats\n  Put up your white flag homey, it get worst than Iraq\n  We know the CIA game was to frame us with crack\n  So each bar's more dope, heroin in my pen\n  Got a Marvin, back robbing, head nodding again\n  Who you shit on to get on top could make it pop in the end\n  Who's a flop and what's hot got you locked in the gym\n  Tell Jacob I spit jewels I could drop him a gem\n  And if he's looking for a diamond I could 'em with Timb\n\n  I'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n  It was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\n  Now we bring the game back into a New York field\n  I'm Hip Hop before Sugarhill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n  I'm Hip Hop (since EPMD 'You Gots to Chill')\n  I'm Hip Hop (since Beastie Boys 'Licensed to Ill')\n\n  I'm Christopher Wallace with street knowledge, apostle of the projects\n  Sneaker boxes with the g-packs stuffed in a G's closet\n  I'm tenement buildings, cement streets\n  I'm British Walkers, I'm scuff marks on your brand new Ellesse\n  5% Nation of Godbodies, greeting with peace\n  I'm raw like Kane, my lyrics are formed in solid rock\n  Spit it hotter than '86 on drug infested blocks\n  Last photo of Pac before his Beamer got shot\n  I'm the Queens, one man Supreme Team, triple beam dream\n  Microphone cream fiend, top five dead or alive, I'm so amazing\n  2-5 costra nostra, heart of this culture\n  The game ain't over\n  I'm the truce troop war reporter, legal life stick you\n  Against All Odds, not the ordinary shit you use to\n  I'm C-Murder before the life sentence\n  Predicate felons, homicide chasing niggas, hopping over benches\n\n  I'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n  It was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\n  Now we bring the game back into a New York field\n  I'm Hip Hop\n\n  The best, oh yes, I guess, suggest the rest should fess\n  I'm Tribe Quest, I'm Moe Dee 'Wild West'\n  Treach, Naughty, Jazz Jeff, Slick Rick, I'm Doug Fresh\n  I'm Def, I'm Canibus before he met Wyclef\n  Original, I don't bite, I don't need nobody to ghostwrite\n  Kool G Rap strike the mic, I recite the type of hype that you like\n  I'm Sweetback, I'm Uptown Saturday Night\n  I'm Black Caesar, I'm Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite\n  I'm an assassin rapping\n  I'm Grand Wizzard Theodore when he invented scratching\n  I'm Wu-Tang Killa Bee, epitome of Public Enemy\n  Gambling, hustling like Smoothe and Trigger be bitter, b\n  Bums diggedy-diggedy, Das literally\n  I'm Pun in the middle of Little Italy, didn't do diddly\n  Didn't he listen to me, I'm all good, I'm hood\n  I'm Ice Cube before he turned soft and went Hollywood\n  I'm Poetic from Gravediggaz, I'm ODB\n  I'm HeadQCourterz, I'm Ted Demme, I'm Paul C\n  If I ain't better than Big, I'm the closest\n  I'm Richard Pryor before multiple sclerosis\n  I'm beef, I'm gold teeth, peace\n  Mantronix, Stetasonic, Symbolic, Bambaataa, Soul Sonic\n  I'm Dre 'the Chronic', Melodic with logic Islamic\n  A poverty prophet, economy robbery, cock it\n  I probably properly drop it, it gotta be honesty\n  Opposite a novelty, 'Rockit', I Herbie Hancock-it\n  I'm Onyx Throwin' Ya Gun, I'm Funky 4 + 1\n"},{"id":7553829,"name":"Renaissance 2.0","trackName":"Renaissance 2.0","artistName":"R.A. the Rugged Man feat. Hell Razah, Tragedy Khadafi & Timbo King","albumName":"Legendary Classics, Volume 1","duration":212.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"1-2, 1-2, girl you could hear me?\n1-2, turn me up\n\nI've been a threat since Benetton, Gazelles and Ballys\nThe icon and graffiti in the Brooklyn alley\nTouch hearts of the pharaohs in the Egypt valley\nMy engineer can't see me cause the booth is cloudy\nStill rowdy even though we in BMs and Audis\nLooking like black Saudis in black Denalis\nI'ma terrorist attack when I get on the track\nIf I'm riding shotgun, I need one in my lap\nI adapt to any habitat, a BK desert rat\nIt's war, then we sending back bodies and gats\nPut up your white flag homey, it get worst than Iraq\nWe know the CIA game was to frame us with crack\nSo each bar's more dope, heroin in my pen\nGot a Marvin, back robbing, head nodding again\nWho you shit on to get on top could make it pop in the end\nWho's a flop and what's hot got you locked in the gym\nTell Jacob I spit jewels I could drop him a gem\nAnd if he's looking for a diamond I could 'em with Timb\n\nI'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\nIt was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\nNow we bring the game back into a New York field\nI'm Hip Hop before Sugarhill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\nI'm Hip Hop (since EPMD 'You Gots to Chill')\nI'm Hip Hop (since Beastie Boys 'Licensed to Ill')\n\nI'm Christopher Wallace with street knowledge, apostle of the projects\nSneaker boxes with the g-packs stuffed in a G's closet\nI'm tenement buildings, cement streets\nI'm British Walkers, I'm scuff marks on your brand new Ellesse\n5% Nation of Godbodies, greeting with peace\nI'm raw like Kane, my lyrics are formed in solid rock\nSpit it hotter than '86 on drug infested blocks\nLast photo of Pac before his Beamer got shot\nI'm the Queens, one man Supreme Team, triple beam dream\nMicrophone cream fiend, top five dead or alive, I'm so amazing\n2-5 costra nostra, heart of this culture\nThe game ain't over\nI'm the truce troop war reporter, legal life stick you\nAgainst All Odds, not the ordinary shit you use to\nI'm C-Murder before the life sentence\nPredicate felons, homicide chasing niggas, hopping over benches\n\nI'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\nIt was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\nNow we bring the game back into a New York field\nI'm Hip Hop\n\nThe best, oh yes, I guess, suggest the rest should fess\nI'm Tribe Quest, I'm Moe Dee 'Wild West'\nTreach, Naughty, Jazz Jeff, Slick Rick, I'm Doug Fresh\nI'm Def, I'm Canibus before he met Wyclef\nOriginal, I don't bite, I don't need nobody to ghostwrite\nKool G Rap strike the mic, I recite the type of hype that you like\nI'm Sweetback, I'm Uptown Saturday Night\nI'm Black Caesar, I'm Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite\nI'm an assassin rapping\nI'm Grand Wizzard Theodore when he invented scratching\nI'm Wu-Tang Killa Bee, epitome of Public Enemy\nGambling, hustling like Smoothe and Trigger be bitter, b\nBums diggedy-diggedy, Das literally\nI'm Pun in the middle of Little Italy, didn't do diddly\nDidn't he listen to me, I'm all good, I'm hood\nI'm Ice Cube before he turned soft and went Hollywood\nI'm Poetic from Gravediggaz, I'm ODB\nI'm HeadQCourterz, I'm Ted Demme, I'm Paul C\nIf I ain't better than Big, I'm the closest\nI'm Richard Pryor before multiple sclerosis\nI'm beef, I'm gold teeth, peace\nMantronix, Stetasonic, Symbolic, Bambaataa, Soul Sonic\nI'm Dre 'the Chronic', Melodic with logic Islamic\nA poverty prophet, economy robbery, cock it\nI probably properly drop it, it gotta be honesty\nOpposite a novelty, 'Rockit', I Herbie Hancock-it\nI'm Onyx Throwin' Ya Gun, I'm Funky 4 + 1","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Renaissance 2.0\n  artist: R.A. the Rugged Man feat. Hell Razah, Tragedy Khadafi & Timbo King\n  album: Legendary Classics, Volume 1\n  duration_ms: 212000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  1-2, 1-2, girl you could hear me?\n  1-2, turn me up\n\n  I've been a threat since Benetton, Gazelles and Ballys\n  The icon and graffiti in the Brooklyn alley\n  Touch hearts of the pharaohs in the Egypt valley\n  My engineer can't see me cause the booth is cloudy\n  Still rowdy even though we in BMs and Audis\n  Looking like black Saudis in black Denalis\n  I'ma terrorist attack when I get on the track\n  If I'm riding shotgun, I need one in my lap\n  I adapt to any habitat, a BK desert rat\n  It's war, then we sending back bodies and gats\n  Put up your white flag homey, it get worst than Iraq\n  We know the CIA game was to frame us with crack\n  So each bar's more dope, heroin in my pen\n  Got a Marvin, back robbing, head nodding again\n  Who you shit on to get on top could make it pop in the end\n  Who's a flop and what's hot got you locked in the gym\n  Tell Jacob I spit jewels I could drop him a gem\n  And if he's looking for a diamond I could 'em with Timb\n\n  I'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n  It was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\n  Now we bring the game back into a New York field\n  I'm Hip Hop before Sugarhill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n  I'm Hip Hop (since EPMD 'You Gots to Chill')\n  I'm Hip Hop (since Beastie Boys 'Licensed to Ill')\n\n  I'm Christopher Wallace with street knowledge, apostle of the projects\n  Sneaker boxes with the g-packs stuffed in a G's closet\n  I'm tenement buildings, cement streets\n  I'm British Walkers, I'm scuff marks on your brand new Ellesse\n  5% Nation of Godbodies, greeting with peace\n  I'm raw like Kane, my lyrics are formed in solid rock\n  Spit it hotter than '86 on drug infested blocks\n  Last photo of Pac before his Beamer got shot\n  I'm the Queens, one man Supreme Team, triple beam dream\n  Microphone cream fiend, top five dead or alive, I'm so amazing\n  2-5 costra nostra, heart of this culture\n  The game ain't over\n  I'm the truce troop war reporter, legal life stick you\n  Against All Odds, not the ordinary shit you use to\n  I'm C-Murder before the life sentence\n  Predicate felons, homicide chasing niggas, hopping over benches\n\n  I'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n  It was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\n  Now we bring the game back into a New York field\n  I'm Hip Hop\n\n  The best, oh yes, I guess, suggest the rest should fess\n  I'm Tribe Quest, I'm Moe Dee 'Wild West'\n  Treach, Naughty, Jazz Jeff, Slick Rick, I'm Doug Fresh\n  I'm Def, I'm Canibus before he met Wyclef\n  Original, I don't bite, I don't need nobody to ghostwrite\n  Kool G Rap strike the mic, I recite the type of hype that you like\n  I'm Sweetback, I'm Uptown Saturday Night\n  I'm Black Caesar, I'm Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite\n  I'm an assassin rapping\n  I'm Grand Wizzard Theodore when he invented scratching\n  I'm Wu-Tang Killa Bee, epitome of Public Enemy\n  Gambling, hustling like Smoothe and Trigger be bitter, b\n  Bums diggedy-diggedy, Das literally\n  I'm Pun in the middle of Little Italy, didn't do diddly\n  Didn't he listen to me, I'm all good, I'm hood\n  I'm Ice Cube before he turned soft and went Hollywood\n  I'm Poetic from Gravediggaz, I'm ODB\n  I'm HeadQCourterz, I'm Ted Demme, I'm Paul C\n  If I ain't better than Big, I'm the closest\n  I'm Richard Pryor before multiple sclerosis\n  I'm beef, I'm gold teeth, peace\n  Mantronix, Stetasonic, Symbolic, Bambaataa, Soul Sonic\n  I'm Dre 'the Chronic', Melodic with logic Islamic\n  A poverty prophet, economy robbery, cock it\n  I probably properly drop it, it gotta be honesty\n  Opposite a novelty, 'Rockit', I Herbie Hancock-it\n  I'm Onyx Throwin' Ya Gun, I'm Funky 4 + 1\n"},{"id":7553828,"name":"Renaissance 2.0","trackName":"Renaissance 2.0","artistName":"R.A. the Rugged Man feat. Hell Razah, Tragedy Khadafi & Timbo King","albumName":"Legendary Classics Vol. 1","duration":212.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"1-2, 1-2, girl you could hear me?\n1-2, turn me up\n\nI've been a threat since Benetton, Gazelles and Ballys\nThe icon and graffiti in the Brooklyn alley\nTouch hearts of the pharaohs in the Egypt valley\nMy engineer can't see me cause the booth is cloudy\nStill rowdy even though we in BMs and Audis\nLooking like black Saudis in black Denalis\nI'ma terrorist attack when I get on the track\nIf I'm riding shotgun, I need one in my lap\nI adapt to any habitat, a BK desert rat\nIt's war, then we sending back bodies and gats\nPut up your white flag homey, it get worst than Iraq\nWe know the CIA game was to frame us with crack\nSo each bar's more dope, heroin in my pen\nGot a Marvin, back robbing, head nodding again\nWho you shit on to get on top could make it pop in the end\nWho's a flop and what's hot got you locked in the gym\nTell Jacob I spit jewels I could drop him a gem\nAnd if he's looking for a diamond I could 'em with Timb\n\nI'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\nIt was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\nNow we bring the game back into a New York field\nI'm Hip Hop before Sugarhill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\nI'm Hip Hop (since EPMD 'You Gots to Chill')\nI'm Hip Hop (since Beastie Boys 'Licensed to Ill')\n\nI'm Christopher Wallace with street knowledge, apostle of the projects\nSneaker boxes with the g-packs stuffed in a G's closet\nI'm tenement buildings, cement streets\nI'm British Walkers, I'm scuff marks on your brand new Ellesse\n5% Nation of Godbodies, greeting with peace\nI'm raw like Kane, my lyrics are formed in solid rock\nSpit it hotter than '86 on drug infested blocks\nLast photo of Pac before his Beamer got shot\nI'm the Queens, one man Supreme Team, triple beam dream\nMicrophone cream fiend, top five dead or alive, I'm so amazing\n2-5 costra nostra, heart of this culture\nThe game ain't over\nI'm the truce troop war reporter, legal life stick you\nAgainst All Odds, not the ordinary shit you use to\nI'm C-Murder before the life sentence\nPredicate felons, homicide chasing niggas, hopping over benches\n\nI'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\nBefore Studio 54 popping pills\nIt was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\nNow we bring the game back into a New York field\nI'm Hip Hop\n\nThe best, oh yes, I guess, suggest the rest should fess\nI'm Tribe Quest, I'm Moe Dee 'Wild West'\nTreach, Naughty, Jazz Jeff, Slick Rick, I'm Doug Fresh\nI'm Def, I'm Canibus before he met Wyclef\nOriginal, I don't bite, I don't need nobody to ghostwrite\nKool G Rap strike the mic, I recite the type of hype that you like\nI'm Sweetback, I'm Uptown Saturday Night\nI'm Black Caesar, I'm Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite\nI'm an assassin rapping\nI'm Grand Wizzard Theodore when he invented scratching\nI'm Wu-Tang Killa Bee, epitome of Public Enemy\nGambling, hustling like Smoothe and Trigger be bitter, b\nBums diggedy-diggedy, Das literally\nI'm Pun in the middle of Little Italy, didn't do diddly\nDidn't he listen to me, I'm all good, I'm hood\nI'm Ice Cube before he turned soft and went Hollywood\nI'm Poetic from Gravediggaz, I'm ODB\nI'm HeadQCourterz, I'm Ted Demme, I'm Paul C\nIf I ain't better than Big, I'm the closest\nI'm Richard Pryor before multiple sclerosis\nI'm beef, I'm gold teeth, peace\nMantronix, Stetasonic, Symbolic, Bambaataa, Soul Sonic\nI'm Dre 'the Chronic', Melodic with logic Islamic\nA poverty prophet, economy robbery, cock it\nI probably properly drop it, it gotta be honesty\nOpposite a novelty, 'Rockit', I Herbie Hancock-it\nI'm Onyx Throwin' Ya Gun, I'm Funky 4 + 1","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Renaissance 2.0\n  artist: R.A. the Rugged Man feat. Hell Razah, Tragedy Khadafi & Timbo King\n  album: Legendary Classics Vol. 1\n  duration_ms: 212000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  1-2, 1-2, girl you could hear me?\n  1-2, turn me up\n\n  I've been a threat since Benetton, Gazelles and Ballys\n  The icon and graffiti in the Brooklyn alley\n  Touch hearts of the pharaohs in the Egypt valley\n  My engineer can't see me cause the booth is cloudy\n  Still rowdy even though we in BMs and Audis\n  Looking like black Saudis in black Denalis\n  I'ma terrorist attack when I get on the track\n  If I'm riding shotgun, I need one in my lap\n  I adapt to any habitat, a BK desert rat\n  It's war, then we sending back bodies and gats\n  Put up your white flag homey, it get worst than Iraq\n  We know the CIA game was to frame us with crack\n  So each bar's more dope, heroin in my pen\n  Got a Marvin, back robbing, head nodding again\n  Who you shit on to get on top could make it pop in the end\n  Who's a flop and what's hot got you locked in the gym\n  Tell Jacob I spit jewels I could drop him a gem\n  And if he's looking for a diamond I could 'em with Timb\n\n  I'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n  It was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\n  Now we bring the game back into a New York field\n  I'm Hip Hop before Sugarhill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n  I'm Hip Hop (since EPMD 'You Gots to Chill')\n  I'm Hip Hop (since Beastie Boys 'Licensed to Ill')\n\n  I'm Christopher Wallace with street knowledge, apostle of the projects\n  Sneaker boxes with the g-packs stuffed in a G's closet\n  I'm tenement buildings, cement streets\n  I'm British Walkers, I'm scuff marks on your brand new Ellesse\n  5% Nation of Godbodies, greeting with peace\n  I'm raw like Kane, my lyrics are formed in solid rock\n  Spit it hotter than '86 on drug infested blocks\n  Last photo of Pac before his Beamer got shot\n  I'm the Queens, one man Supreme Team, triple beam dream\n  Microphone cream fiend, top five dead or alive, I'm so amazing\n  2-5 costra nostra, heart of this culture\n  The game ain't over\n  I'm the truce troop war reporter, legal life stick you\n  Against All Odds, not the ordinary shit you use to\n  I'm C-Murder before the life sentence\n  Predicate felons, homicide chasing niggas, hopping over benches\n\n  I'm Hip Hop before Sugar Hill signed a deal\n  Before Studio 54 popping pills\n  It was real when Kool Herc worked the wheels of steel\n  Now we bring the game back into a New York field\n  I'm Hip Hop\n\n  The best, oh yes, I guess, suggest the rest should fess\n  I'm Tribe Quest, I'm Moe Dee 'Wild West'\n  Treach, Naughty, Jazz Jeff, Slick Rick, I'm Doug Fresh\n  I'm Def, I'm Canibus before he met Wyclef\n  Original, I don't bite, I don't need nobody to ghostwrite\n  Kool G Rap strike the mic, I recite the type of hype that you like\n  I'm Sweetback, I'm Uptown Saturday Night\n  I'm Black Caesar, I'm Rudy Ray Moore, Dolemite\n  I'm an assassin rapping\n  I'm Grand Wizzard Theodore when he invented scratching\n  I'm Wu-Tang Killa Bee, epitome of Public Enemy\n  Gambling, hustling like Smoothe and Trigger be bitter, b\n  Bums diggedy-diggedy, Das literally\n  I'm Pun in the middle of Little Italy, didn't do diddly\n  Didn't he listen to me, I'm all good, I'm hood\n  I'm Ice Cube before he turned soft and went Hollywood\n  I'm Poetic from Gravediggaz, I'm ODB\n  I'm HeadQCourterz, I'm Ted Demme, I'm Paul C\n  If I ain't better than Big, I'm the closest\n  I'm Richard Pryor before multiple sclerosis\n  I'm beef, I'm gold teeth, peace\n  Mantronix, Stetasonic, Symbolic, Bambaataa, Soul Sonic\n  I'm Dre 'the Chronic', Melodic with logic Islamic\n  A poverty prophet, economy robbery, cock it\n  I probably properly drop it, it gotta be honesty\n  Opposite a novelty, 'Rockit', I Herbie Hancock-it\n  I'm Onyx Throwin' Ya Gun, I'm Funky 4 + 1\n"}]