[{"id":9345777,"name":"Gang's All Here","trackName":"Gang's All Here","artistName":"Heltah Skeltah","albumName":"Magnum Force","duration":549.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Thunderfoot]\nAiyyo I been spittin this rap shit for too long To let y'all heads\nget me hot under my collar through songs And best don't get it\ntwisted My Magnum Force practice Operation:\nLockdown And don't you clowns ever forget it The other half'll feel\nmy brother's wrath,\nthat we break through And always\nbeen the type to take you there like?\nWarren Staples?\nBlow spots wit no glock the show stop when domes pop\nYou should of stayed your ass home bop, you got a flow--not\n\nI set it off on a mission like the Sentinel Cuz I was sent to do,\nmurder the crew sayin I'm merciful I wrote a few,\njournals in my Nocturnal state Blaze like an inferno,\nwatch niggas just cremate Too late to run and turn to Rev.\nRun Some blessin the section,\ngivin them niggas quick trips to heaven Straight murder wit the\nunheard-a, lyritifical Beneficial,\nthat you never pursure the issue The ninth initial,\nthought as to rip the bits n kibbles I kick ass, more than a little,\nmy rhyme riddle Your mind's a dead veg-e-table when I\nhit you Doin like I should do, bringin Noyz to my acquittal\n\nWit no discrepency, I rip MC wit no referee Devil tested me,\ncan't let him get the best of me Wit accuracy,\nI'll attack an MC Spittin like I emptied the M-1 from the M-P Wit no\napology, unload on your property causing atrocity At a rapid\nvelocity, mental artillery,\nmilitary anatomy After you battle me call me your majesty for\nmastering The art of fastening, grappling,\nlocking down this rapping thing Tackling the majority,\nbomb with authority More than minority,\nS-T got seniority Rhymin since\nKnowledge and Quality wit college degree\nKill out to all the enemy,\nwe killin all a dem Kill out to all the\nenemy, don't matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\nDoc ain't nuttin but the truth,\n100% when I get bent It's possible that I'm mad, forget?\nI'm blind, deaf, and mute To all you shit poppers,\nput your money where your mouth at I roll wit bank stoppers,\nfive-foot Reps who whip ass Erases coppers, it's mandatory,\nthat D-O-C stay shittin Laws and lows to keep you hoes on my didick\nMy foes stay foes so all you jacks need to quit it Doc shines,\nhot lines, and jackers come and get it And\none false move, I'm guaranteed to be acquitted\n\nAiyyo, we gang bangin, through the tri-state area Act up,\nmy MFC niggas'll have to bury ya Ain't nuttin scarier,\nthan a five-foot eight nigga Holding the big toast,\nmake yo chest piece shake I cut niggas like class and glass from\ndirty bottles Runnin through these streets high-speed at full\nthrottle Ghetto role models,\nso what the fuck y'all tellin me Misdemeanor cats wit raps,\nwannabe felonies Fuck sellin trees man,\nI smoke too much I lay my raps, get my traps,\nthen I roast the dutch Y'all niggas boast too much,\nabout the shit you got I hope the money save\nthat ass when the shit get hot It's Lidu Rock\n\nMany think I ain't got it in me,\ncuz I'm plenty-friendly It could be because I'm\nskinny But I'll fuck you up like Henny and Remmy?\nIf any of trash?, we'll I'll scream \" gimme\"\nTo any who make it hard to Get Away like Tim or\nPenny Semi-auto, wit a swift into your track,?\nit cracks?\nAnd creeps morse code,\nI'm sendin smoke signals That's how my gats be Tactics,\nI crack piece are phenomenal Ask peeps,\nwhat kinda drama do the Bummy Jab wreak He'll tell ya,\nthe boy cause straight Heltah Skeltah I got the block sweltering and\nhot like your biotch when I felt her So don't fuck wit my head,\ngot static I'm buckin you dead I'll bend your body like Craftmatic\nAdjustable Bed Fuck what you said,\nfor y'all I got nuttin but lead-o And stop fuckin askin me why Ruck\ncut his dreads It's up in the air, we buckin from here,\nto where you rest at In a jet black,\nExpedition fishin to get some get back\nKill out to all our enemies,\nwe killin all a dem Kill out to all our\nenemies, no matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\nMy militant mind's impervious to submission Maintain in the rank,\nglorious in this division Killa Cartel-N-MFC in collision The scene\ncould get bloody, two teams wit one mission I stomps through the\ncrack slums of mother Medina Push weed to stack funds for my mother\nDina Rustee Jux-man, Brooklyn mercenary Some say it's rap,\nsome say it's legendary The pack that run wit me,\nattack wit guns swiftly My young legion niggas got smacked on\none-fifty Cold mashin, straight blastin,\nsteady mobbin I rose to large drug dealin from petty robbin\n\nWell it's the five-eight,\nhands I'm holdin brothers for ransom Operation generation down to the\nseeds of your grandson And blow off like a handgun,\nhittin niggas at random Damn son,\ngot love for thugs singin my anthem I amp them,\nspittin my raps spectacular Forever clappin the rapper that's bitin\nlike he Dracula You see what happens to all of these fake rhyme\nfashioners I bring disaster to niggas thats claimin they done\nmastered the Art, who's the next on my chart to mark You know I swim\nwit the shark, why y'all niggas wanna start Big gram and knee\nlow, stay on the d-low Rollin black in the back of the fat Ex-P-O\n\nWell it's the lazy-eye criminal,\nbaby nines the minimum In the gat cabin,\nTek we make it happen You just rappin,\nbitch niggas get bitch smacked when You start yappin,\nget your shine snatched for flashin Straight extorted,\nlike an IRS audit You never gonna\nbust that gun, so why you bought it?\nSee you came home frolic,\nbut you show fake love Like the Feds try to get close and lay down\nbugs Try to skate but got schemed on,\nyou had to lay Didn't know niggas got Desert E's and PK's\n\nMe and my crew ride up and down St.\nJames like a pack of great danes Ain't shit changed,\nsee y'all niggas take your gold frames Spit in your face and I'm a\nhave to smack flames Out your ass for tryin to laugh and plus play\ngames (word up) We ain't Connecticut,\nain't even sweatin it Pack up your bags bitch,\ncome wit some better shit Son them niggas probably home right now,\nfor real regretting it I don't want to be y'all,\nwhen we see y'all I'm settin it Niggas on my dick so\nmuch I brought a saddle We can take it to the streets\n(word up word up),\nbring your heat, battle For your seven-forty Beamer,\nwit your shorty Kima in it If you platinum you can drive me through\nManhattan while I hit it Everywhere I go,\nI let em know Starang's the shit Over\nthree-hundred thousand fans and ain't never had a hit William H.\nis the name,\nMFC's the click Y'all niggas takin us out?, y'all smokin the shit\n\nRetreat retreat, all pussy boys,\nretreat Magnum Force come to take over Retreat,\nretreat, all pussy boys, retreat Magnum Force come to take over)\n\nSEAN P., you better recognize,\nI be wreckin guys Fuckin cockroaches still breathin up your\npesticides Like D-Con,\nsee Sean be on some shit from day one Spray guns at funny style\nniggas who actin gay son Ruck made the paper,\nyou could turn to page one Butt-fuckin your\nchick wit a mothafuckin gauge son Who said that?\nRuck said wack shit, aiyyo dead that For the headcrack,\nleave your face lumpy like Craig Mack I\nread that, niggas want beef aiyyo so get back?\nHappen in?\nperson cuz I'm hurtin niggas who said that You fuckin wet back,\nsmack you wit the fuck med's pack Then have sex at,\nthe same place I park my Lex at [Buckshot] The last black gene,\ngreen socks Serve the fans quick like servin fiend rock Understand\nthe scene is locked, when you dead bolt Hit em in the throat,\nride em like the jet black colt Through the jungle,\nit's another rumble when I set it so free And flee from his body back\nto the OGC I never heard of that nigga,\nin the first place I hit him in the worst place,\nhid the waste Need a replacement killa,\nhustle dope shit so I'm a drug dealer So for real-a,\non point wit the nine mill-a Straight give\na nigga guillotine shit Heads come off the?\nlean?\nwit one stroke Two tokes from the mack tilly Give a mothafucker two\nto the belly Stop, look and acting like the shot from your ass\nwhippin Nigga, why you trippin,\ndon't start slippin now Fool keep flippin\nIt's not over, it's not over, oh oh\n\nYo it was on to the next phase Spit ink on a page,\nhostile rage No sugar and sour like lemmonade Bing came to me in a\ndream he said \" come clean\" So I scalped and praise,\nI'm on my way Gat and pick straight out the gate When I see yo say\n\" you back up on your duty?\" Yo my mouth spittin arson,\nnew shit is startin But ain't shit changed,\nyou know your range,\nbeg your pardon Starv like Marv, I'm on the job First rob and?\nslug?\nmothafuckers licked the knob Be like that,\nwhen I clap back time I feel it deeply,\nfor my niggas I left behind I rep for mine,\nhere son feel the shine Can't say no names,\ncuz all my niggas is on my mind Yo I'm all about me\nsonee, hand me money Ja Ja, and bring yo ass here to poppa","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Gang's All Here\n  artist: Heltah Skeltah\n  album: Magnum Force\n  duration_ms: 549000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Thunderfoot]\n  Aiyyo I been spittin this rap shit for too long To let y'all heads\n  get me hot under my collar through songs And best don't get it\n  twisted My Magnum Force practice Operation:\n  Lockdown And don't you clowns ever forget it The other half'll feel\n  my brother's wrath,\n  that we break through And always\n  been the type to take you there like?\n  Warren Staples?\n  Blow spots wit no glock the show stop when domes pop\n  You should of stayed your ass home bop, you got a flow--not\n\n  I set it off on a mission like the Sentinel Cuz I was sent to do,\n  murder the crew sayin I'm merciful I wrote a few,\n  journals in my Nocturnal state Blaze like an inferno,\n  watch niggas just cremate Too late to run and turn to Rev.\n  Run Some blessin the section,\n  givin them niggas quick trips to heaven Straight murder wit the\n  unheard-a, lyritifical Beneficial,\n  that you never pursure the issue The ninth initial,\n  thought as to rip the bits n kibbles I kick ass, more than a little,\n  my rhyme riddle Your mind's a dead veg-e-table when I\n  hit you Doin like I should do, bringin Noyz to my acquittal\n\n  Wit no discrepency, I rip MC wit no referee Devil tested me,\n  can't let him get the best of me Wit accuracy,\n  I'll attack an MC Spittin like I emptied the M-1 from the M-P Wit no\n  apology, unload on your property causing atrocity At a rapid\n  velocity, mental artillery,\n  military anatomy After you battle me call me your majesty for\n  mastering The art of fastening, grappling,\n  locking down this rapping thing Tackling the majority,\n  bomb with authority More than minority,\n  S-T got seniority Rhymin since\n  Knowledge and Quality wit college degree\n  Kill out to all the enemy,\n  we killin all a dem Kill out to all the\n  enemy, don't matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\n  Doc ain't nuttin but the truth,\n  100% when I get bent It's possible that I'm mad, forget?\n  I'm blind, deaf, and mute To all you shit poppers,\n  put your money where your mouth at I roll wit bank stoppers,\n  five-foot Reps who whip ass Erases coppers, it's mandatory,\n  that D-O-C stay shittin Laws and lows to keep you hoes on my didick\n  My foes stay foes so all you jacks need to quit it Doc shines,\n  hot lines, and jackers come and get it And\n  one false move, I'm guaranteed to be acquitted\n\n  Aiyyo, we gang bangin, through the tri-state area Act up,\n  my MFC niggas'll have to bury ya Ain't nuttin scarier,\n  than a five-foot eight nigga Holding the big toast,\n  make yo chest piece shake I cut niggas like class and glass from\n  dirty bottles Runnin through these streets high-speed at full\n  throttle Ghetto role models,\n  so what the fuck y'all tellin me Misdemeanor cats wit raps,\n  wannabe felonies Fuck sellin trees man,\n  I smoke too much I lay my raps, get my traps,\n  then I roast the dutch Y'all niggas boast too much,\n  about the shit you got I hope the money save\n  that ass when the shit get hot It's Lidu Rock\n\n  Many think I ain't got it in me,\n  cuz I'm plenty-friendly It could be because I'm\n  skinny But I'll fuck you up like Henny and Remmy?\n  If any of trash?, we'll I'll scream \" gimme\"\n  To any who make it hard to Get Away like Tim or\n  Penny Semi-auto, wit a swift into your track,?\n  it cracks?\n  And creeps morse code,\n  I'm sendin smoke signals That's how my gats be Tactics,\n  I crack piece are phenomenal Ask peeps,\n  what kinda drama do the Bummy Jab wreak He'll tell ya,\n  the boy cause straight Heltah Skeltah I got the block sweltering and\n  hot like your biotch when I felt her So don't fuck wit my head,\n  got static I'm buckin you dead I'll bend your body like Craftmatic\n  Adjustable Bed Fuck what you said,\n  for y'all I got nuttin but lead-o And stop fuckin askin me why Ruck\n  cut his dreads It's up in the air, we buckin from here,\n  to where you rest at In a jet black,\n  Expedition fishin to get some get back\n  Kill out to all our enemies,\n  we killin all a dem Kill out to all our\n  enemies, no matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\n  My militant mind's impervious to submission Maintain in the rank,\n  glorious in this division Killa Cartel-N-MFC in collision The scene\n  could get bloody, two teams wit one mission I stomps through the\n  crack slums of mother Medina Push weed to stack funds for my mother\n  Dina Rustee Jux-man, Brooklyn mercenary Some say it's rap,\n  some say it's legendary The pack that run wit me,\n  attack wit guns swiftly My young legion niggas got smacked on\n  one-fifty Cold mashin, straight blastin,\n  steady mobbin I rose to large drug dealin from petty robbin\n\n  Well it's the five-eight,\n  hands I'm holdin brothers for ransom Operation generation down to the\n  seeds of your grandson And blow off like a handgun,\n  hittin niggas at random Damn son,\n  got love for thugs singin my anthem I amp them,\n  spittin my raps spectacular Forever clappin the rapper that's bitin\n  like he Dracula You see what happens to all of these fake rhyme\n  fashioners I bring disaster to niggas thats claimin they done\n  mastered the Art, who's the next on my chart to mark You know I swim\n  wit the shark, why y'all niggas wanna start Big gram and knee\n  low, stay on the d-low Rollin black in the back of the fat Ex-P-O\n\n  Well it's the lazy-eye criminal,\n  baby nines the minimum In the gat cabin,\n  Tek we make it happen You just rappin,\n  bitch niggas get bitch smacked when You start yappin,\n  get your shine snatched for flashin Straight extorted,\n  like an IRS audit You never gonna\n  bust that gun, so why you bought it?\n  See you came home frolic,\n  but you show fake love Like the Feds try to get close and lay down\n  bugs Try to skate but got schemed on,\n  you had to lay Didn't know niggas got Desert E's and PK's\n\n  Me and my crew ride up and down St.\n  James like a pack of great danes Ain't shit changed,\n  see y'all niggas take your gold frames Spit in your face and I'm a\n  have to smack flames Out your ass for tryin to laugh and plus play\n  games (word up) We ain't Connecticut,\n  ain't even sweatin it Pack up your bags bitch,\n  come wit some better shit Son them niggas probably home right now,\n  for real regretting it I don't want to be y'all,\n  when we see y'all I'm settin it Niggas on my dick so\n  much I brought a saddle We can take it to the streets\n  (word up word up),\n  bring your heat, battle For your seven-forty Beamer,\n  wit your shorty Kima in it If you platinum you can drive me through\n  Manhattan while I hit it Everywhere I go,\n  I let em know Starang's the shit Over\n  three-hundred thousand fans and ain't never had a hit William H.\n  is the name,\n  MFC's the click Y'all niggas takin us out?, y'all smokin the shit\n\n  Retreat retreat, all pussy boys,\n  retreat Magnum Force come to take over Retreat,\n  retreat, all pussy boys, retreat Magnum Force come to take over)\n\n  SEAN P., you better recognize,\n  I be wreckin guys Fuckin cockroaches still breathin up your\n  pesticides Like D-Con,\n  see Sean be on some shit from day one Spray guns at funny style\n  niggas who actin gay son Ruck made the paper,\n  you could turn to page one Butt-fuckin your\n  chick wit a mothafuckin gauge son Who said that?\n  Ruck said wack shit, aiyyo dead that For the headcrack,\n  leave your face lumpy like Craig Mack I\n  read that, niggas want beef aiyyo so get back?\n  Happen in?\n  person cuz I'm hurtin niggas who said that You fuckin wet back,\n  smack you wit the fuck med's pack Then have sex at,\n  the same place I park my Lex at [Buckshot] The last black gene,\n  green socks Serve the fans quick like servin fiend rock Understand\n  the scene is locked, when you dead bolt Hit em in the throat,\n  ride em like the jet black colt Through the jungle,\n  it's another rumble when I set it so free And flee from his body back\n  to the OGC I never heard of that nigga,\n  in the first place I hit him in the worst place,\n  hid the waste Need a replacement killa,\n  hustle dope shit so I'm a drug dealer So for real-a,\n  on point wit the nine mill-a Straight give\n  a nigga guillotine shit Heads come off the?\n  lean?\n  wit one stroke Two tokes from the mack tilly Give a mothafucker two\n  to the belly Stop, look and acting like the shot from your ass\n  whippin Nigga, why you trippin,\n  don't start slippin now Fool keep flippin\n  It's not over, it's not over, oh oh\n\n  Yo it was on to the next phase Spit ink on a page,\n  hostile rage No sugar and sour like lemmonade Bing came to me in a\n  dream he said \" come clean\" So I scalped and praise,\n  I'm on my way Gat and pick straight out the gate When I see yo say\n  \" you back up on your duty?\" Yo my mouth spittin arson,\n  new shit is startin But ain't shit changed,\n  you know your range,\n  beg your pardon Starv like Marv, I'm on the job First rob and?\n  slug?\n  mothafuckers licked the knob Be like that,\n  when I clap back time I feel it deeply,\n  for my niggas I left behind I rep for mine,\n  here son feel the shine Can't say no names,\n  cuz all my niggas is on my mind Yo I'm all about me\n  sonee, hand me money Ja Ja, and bring yo ass here to poppa\n"},{"id":37057748,"name":"Gang's All Here (feat. MFC & BCC)","trackName":"Gang's All Here (feat. MFC & BCC)","artistName":"Heltah Skeltah","albumName":"Magnum Force","duration":549.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ayo, I been spittin' this rap shit for too long\nI let y'all heads get me hot under my collar through songs\nAnd best don't get it twisted, my Magnum Force\nPractice Operation: Lockdown, and don't you clowns ever forget it\nThe other half'll feel my brother's wrath as we break through\nAnd always been the type to take you there like Marvin Staples\nBlow spots with no Glock, the show stops when domes pop\nYou should've stayed your ass home, pop, you got the flow not\n\nI set it off on a mission like the Sentinel\n'Cause I was sent to do, murder the crew, sayin' I'm merciful\nI wrote a few journals in my nocturnal state\nBlaze like an inferno, watch niggas get cremate\nToo late to run and turn to reverend, son blessin' the section\nGivin' them niggas quick trips to Heaven\nStraight murder with the unheard of, lyric-tifical\nBeneficial that you never pursue the issue\nThe 9th initial, thought is to rip the bits and kibbles\nI kick ass more than a little, my rhyme riddles\nThe mind's a dead vegetable when I hit you\nDoin' like I should do, bringin' noise to my acquittal\n\nWith no discrepancy, I rip MC with no referee\nDevil testin' me, can't let him get the best of me\nWith accuracy, I'll attack an MC\nSpittin' like I emptied the M1 from the MP\nWith no apology, unload on your property\nCausin' atrocity at a rapid velocity\nMental artillery, military anatomy\nAfter you battle me, call me your majesty\nFor mastering the art of fastening\nGrappling, locking down this rapping thing\nTackling the majority, bomb with authority\nMore than minority, S-T got seniority\nRhyming since knowledge equality with college degrees\n\nWe kill off all the enemy (The enemy)\nWe killin' all of them\nWe kill off all the enemy (The enemy)\nIt don't matter if it's enemy or friend\n\nDoc ain't nothin' but the truth, one hundred percent\nWhen I get bent, it's possible that a man forget couth\nI'm blind, deaf and mute, so all you shit-poppers\nPut your money where your mouth at, I roll with bank stoppers\nFive-foot reps who whip ass of racist coppers\nIt's mandatory, and D.O.C. say he shouldn't\nLoads and loads to keep you hoes on my didick\nMy foes stay froze, so all you chaps need to quit it\nGot shines, hot dimes, so jackers, come and get it\nAnd one false move, I'm guaranteed to be acquitted\n\nAyo, I'm runnin' with gangbangers through the tri-state area\nAct up, my M.F.C. niggas'll have to bury ya\nAin't nothin' scarier than a five-foot-eight\nNigga holdin' the big toast, make your chest piece shake\nI cut niggas like class and glass from dirty bottles\nRunnin' through these streets, high speed at full throttles\nGhetto role models, so what the fuck y'all tellin' me?\nMisdemeanor cats with raps wanna be felonies\nFuck sellin' trees, man, I smoke too much\nI lay my raps, get my trap, then I roast the Dutch\nAnd niggas boast too much about the shit you got\nI hope the money save that ass when the shit get hot, it's Lil' Rock\n\nMany think I ain't got it in me 'cause I'm plenty friendly\nCould be 'cause I'm skinny, but I'll fuck you up like Henny\nOr Remy or Vinny, a drag while I'll scream \"Kimmy\"\nTo any, I make it hard to get away like Tim or Benny\nSemi-auto, put a swift end to your track meet\nCap creeps in Morse code, bustin' the smoke signals\nThat's just how my gat speak, tactics I prac-tilse\nAre phenomenal, ask Beast what kinda drama do the Bummy Jab wreak\nThey'll tell ya, \"The boy cause straight helter skelter\"\nGot the block swelterin' hot like your biatch when I felt her\nSo don't fuck with my head, got static? I'm buckin' you dead\nBend your body like Craftmatic adjustable beds\nFuck what you said, for y'all I got nothin' but lead\nOh, and stop fuckin' askin' me why Ruck cut his dread\nIt's up in the air, we buckin' from here 'til we can rest that\nIn a jet-black Expedition fishin' to get some ket back\n\nWe kill off all the enemy (We kill off all the enemy, bastards)\nWe killin' all of them\nWe kill off all the enemy (We kill off all the enemy)\nIt don't matter if it's enemy or friend, oh, oh\n\nMy militant mind's impervious to submission\nMaintainin' the rank glorious in this division\nKilla Kartel and M.F.C. in collision\nThe scene could get bloody, two teams with one mission\nI stomps through the crack slums of Mother Medina\nPush weed to stack funds for my mother Deena (Uh)\nRuste Juxxman, Brooklyn mercenary\nSome say it's wack, some say it's legendary\nThe pack that run with me attack with guns swiftly\nMy Young Legion niggas got smack on one-fifty\nCold mashin', straight blastin', steady mobbin'\nI rolls to dodge drug dealin' from petty lawmen\n\nWell, it's the five-eight, handsome, holdin' brothers for ransom\nErase your generation down to the seeds of your grandson\nBlow off like a handgun, hittin' niggas at random\nDamn, son, got love for thugs singin' my anthem\nI am dumb, spittin' my raps spectacular\nForever clappin' the rappers that's bitin' like he Dracula\nYou see what happens to all of these fake rhyme fashioners\nI bring disaster to niggas that's claimin' they done mastered the\nArt, who's the next on my chart to march?\nYou know I swim with the shark, why y'all niggas wanna start?\nByn, Grim and Ne-Yo stay on the D-low\nRollin' black in the back of the fat XPO\n\nIt's the lazy eye criminal, baby, nine's the minimal\nIn the gat cabin, Tek been makin' it happen\nYou just rappin', bitch niggas get bitch smacked\nWhen you start yappin', get your shine snatched for flashin'\nStraight extorted like an IRS audit\nYou never gonna bust that gun, so why you flaunt it?\nSee, you came home brolic, but you show fake love\nLike the feds tryna get close and lay down bugs\nTried to scheme, but got schemed on, you had to leave\nDidn't know niggas got Desert Eag's and P.G.'s\n\nMe and my crew ride up and down St. James\nLike a pack of Great Danes, ain't shit changed\nSee y'all niggas, take your gold frames\nSpit in your face and I'ma have to smack flames\nOut your ass for tryna laugh and plus play games (Word up)\nMe and Connecticut ain't even sweatin' it\nPack up your bags, bitch, come with some better shit\nSon, them niggas probably home right now, for real regrettin' it\nI don't wanna be y'all, when I see y'all, we settin' it\nNiggas on my dick so much, I brought a saddle\nWe can take it to the streets (Word up\nWord up), bring your heat, battle\nFor your 740 Bimmer with your shorty Kima in it\nIf you platinum, you can drive me through Manhattan while I hit her\nEverywhere I go (I let 'em know) Starang's the shit\nOver three hundred thousand fans and ain't never had a hit\nWilliam H. the name, M.F.C.'s the clique\nY'all niggas takin' us out? Y'all smokin' the shit\n\nRetreat, retreat, all Pussycat\nIt's the three Magnavox comin' take over\nRetreat, retreat, all Pussycat\nIt's the three Magnavox comin' take over\n\nIt's Sean P, you better recognize, I be wreckin' guys\nFuckin' cockroaches, still breathin'? I'll be pesticide\nLike D-Con, see, Sean been on some shit from day one\nSpray guns at funny style niggas who actin' gay, son\nRuck made the paper, you can turn to page one\nButt-fuckin' a chick with a motherfuckin' gauge, son\nWho said that? Ruck said, \"Whack shit and you'll dead that\"\n'Fore the head crack, leave your face lumpy like Craig Mack\nI read that, niggas want\nI blast black jeans, green socks\nServe the fans quick like you serve the fiend rock\nUnderstand the scene is locked\nWith the deadbolt hit them in the throat\nRide 'em like a jet black coat\nThrough the jungle, it's another rumble\nWhen I set his soul free\nAnd flee from his body back to G-O-D, see\nI ain't never heard of that nigga\nIn the first place I hit him in the worst place, in his waist\nSee the replacement killer\nOn some dope shit so I'm a drug dealer\nSo for reala, on point with the nine milla\nStraight give a nigga guillotine shit\nHead come off clean with one stroke\nTwo tokes from the mac till he\nGive a motherfucker two's in the belly\nStop lookin' actin' like you shot from the ass\nWhip a nigga while you trippin'\nDon't start slippin' now fool keep flippin'\n\nYo it was on to the next phase\nSpit ink on the page I saw rage\nNo sugar and sour like lemonade\nBean came to me in a dream\nHe said come clean so I scalped the braids\nI'm on my way, got this shit straight out the gate\nWhen the C.O. say, \"get back up on your duty\"\nYo I'm out spittin' arson, new shit is startin'\nBut ain't shit changed you know your brains beg your pardon\nStarve like Marv I'm on the job\nFirst broad gets off, motherfuckers lick the knob\nIt be like that, when I, clap at time\nI feel it deeply, for my niggas I left behind\nI rep for mine, here's some, feel the shine\nCan't say no names, cause all my niggas is on my mind\nYo I'm all about peace or need, and me money\nJah Jah, come bring your ass here to papa\n\nHahaha, I told y'all, it went down like this\nYou swore I told y'all, first came one\nThen came two then came five and we still ain't done\nFirst one prophesized, '98 we rule peep the scripture\nNow peep the walkin' can of ass with Mr. Flixsta\nDeacon Flixsta, Magnum Force, Heltah Skeltah\nWWBCC, Worldwide Whodaminiflexion\nFor now, forever, for life\nMagnum Force, the Magnum Force criminals, MFC\nMotherfuck the coppers, word is bond\nMagnum Force Crooks Committee, convicts\nCeez in the change of the way the consultants\nThe motherfuckin' crimeys, and we out\nFuck all y'all motherfuckin' baby one eatin'\nPink panty wearin' with bras to match ass\nSons and daughters of punk bitches and bastards\nWord up","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Gang's All Here (feat. MFC & BCC)\n  artist: Heltah Skeltah\n  album: Magnum Force\n  duration_ms: 549000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Ayo, I been spittin' this rap shit for too long\n  I let y'all heads get me hot under my collar through songs\n  And best don't get it twisted, my Magnum Force\n  Practice Operation: Lockdown, and don't you clowns ever forget it\n  The other half'll feel my brother's wrath as we break through\n  And always been the type to take you there like Marvin Staples\n  Blow spots with no Glock, the show stops when domes pop\n  You should've stayed your ass home, pop, you got the flow not\n\n  I set it off on a mission like the Sentinel\n  'Cause I was sent to do, murder the crew, sayin' I'm merciful\n  I wrote a few journals in my nocturnal state\n  Blaze like an inferno, watch niggas get cremate\n  Too late to run and turn to reverend, son blessin' the section\n  Givin' them niggas quick trips to Heaven\n  Straight murder with the unheard of, lyric-tifical\n  Beneficial that you never pursue the issue\n  The 9th initial, thought is to rip the bits and kibbles\n  I kick ass more than a little, my rhyme riddles\n  The mind's a dead vegetable when I hit you\n  Doin' like I should do, bringin' noise to my acquittal\n\n  With no discrepancy, I rip MC with no referee\n  Devil testin' me, can't let him get the best of me\n  With accuracy, I'll attack an MC\n  Spittin' like I emptied the M1 from the MP\n  With no apology, unload on your property\n  Causin' atrocity at a rapid velocity\n  Mental artillery, military anatomy\n  After you battle me, call me your majesty\n  For mastering the art of fastening\n  Grappling, locking down this rapping thing\n  Tackling the majority, bomb with authority\n  More than minority, S-T got seniority\n  Rhyming since knowledge equality with college degrees\n\n  We kill off all the enemy (The enemy)\n  We killin' all of them\n  We kill off all the enemy (The enemy)\n  It don't matter if it's enemy or friend\n\n  Doc ain't nothin' but the truth, one hundred percent\n  When I get bent, it's possible that a man forget couth\n  I'm blind, deaf and mute, so all you shit-poppers\n  Put your money where your mouth at, I roll with bank stoppers\n  Five-foot reps who whip ass of racist coppers\n  It's mandatory, and D.O.C. say he shouldn't\n  Loads and loads to keep you hoes on my didick\n  My foes stay froze, so all you chaps need to quit it\n  Got shines, hot dimes, so jackers, come and get it\n  And one false move, I'm guaranteed to be acquitted\n\n  Ayo, I'm runnin' with gangbangers through the tri-state area\n  Act up, my M.F.C. niggas'll have to bury ya\n  Ain't nothin' scarier than a five-foot-eight\n  Nigga holdin' the big toast, make your chest piece shake\n  I cut niggas like class and glass from dirty bottles\n  Runnin' through these streets, high speed at full throttles\n  Ghetto role models, so what the fuck y'all tellin' me?\n  Misdemeanor cats with raps wanna be felonies\n  Fuck sellin' trees, man, I smoke too much\n  I lay my raps, get my trap, then I roast the Dutch\n  And niggas boast too much about the shit you got\n  I hope the money save that ass when the shit get hot, it's Lil' Rock\n\n  Many think I ain't got it in me 'cause I'm plenty friendly\n  Could be 'cause I'm skinny, but I'll fuck you up like Henny\n  Or Remy or Vinny, a drag while I'll scream \"Kimmy\"\n  To any, I make it hard to get away like Tim or Benny\n  Semi-auto, put a swift end to your track meet\n  Cap creeps in Morse code, bustin' the smoke signals\n  That's just how my gat speak, tactics I prac-tilse\n  Are phenomenal, ask Beast what kinda drama do the Bummy Jab wreak\n  They'll tell ya, \"The boy cause straight helter skelter\"\n  Got the block swelterin' hot like your biatch when I felt her\n  So don't fuck with my head, got static? I'm buckin' you dead\n  Bend your body like Craftmatic adjustable beds\n  Fuck what you said, for y'all I got nothin' but lead\n  Oh, and stop fuckin' askin' me why Ruck cut his dread\n  It's up in the air, we buckin' from here 'til we can rest that\n  In a jet-black Expedition fishin' to get some ket back\n\n  We kill off all the enemy (We kill off all the enemy, bastards)\n  We killin' all of them\n  We kill off all the enemy (We kill off all the enemy)\n  It don't matter if it's enemy or friend, oh, oh\n\n  My militant mind's impervious to submission\n  Maintainin' the rank glorious in this division\n  Killa Kartel and M.F.C. in collision\n  The scene could get bloody, two teams with one mission\n  I stomps through the crack slums of Mother Medina\n  Push weed to stack funds for my mother Deena (Uh)\n  Ruste Juxxman, Brooklyn mercenary\n  Some say it's wack, some say it's legendary\n  The pack that run with me attack with guns swiftly\n  My Young Legion niggas got smack on one-fifty\n  Cold mashin', straight blastin', steady mobbin'\n  I rolls to dodge drug dealin' from petty lawmen\n\n  Well, it's the five-eight, handsome, holdin' brothers for ransom\n  Erase your generation down to the seeds of your grandson\n  Blow off like a handgun, hittin' niggas at random\n  Damn, son, got love for thugs singin' my anthem\n  I am dumb, spittin' my raps spectacular\n  Forever clappin' the rappers that's bitin' like he Dracula\n  You see what happens to all of these fake rhyme fashioners\n  I bring disaster to niggas that's claimin' they done mastered the\n  Art, who's the next on my chart to march?\n  You know I swim with the shark, why y'all niggas wanna start?\n  Byn, Grim and Ne-Yo stay on the D-low\n  Rollin' black in the back of the fat XPO\n\n  It's the lazy eye criminal, baby, nine's the minimal\n  In the gat cabin, Tek been makin' it happen\n  You just rappin', bitch niggas get bitch smacked\n  When you start yappin', get your shine snatched for flashin'\n  Straight extorted like an IRS audit\n  You never gonna bust that gun, so why you flaunt it?\n  See, you came home brolic, but you show fake love\n  Like the feds tryna get close and lay down bugs\n  Tried to scheme, but got schemed on, you had to leave\n  Didn't know niggas got Desert Eag's and P.G.'s\n\n  Me and my crew ride up and down St. James\n  Like a pack of Great Danes, ain't shit changed\n  See y'all niggas, take your gold frames\n  Spit in your face and I'ma have to smack flames\n  Out your ass for tryna laugh and plus play games (Word up)\n  Me and Connecticut ain't even sweatin' it\n  Pack up your bags, bitch, come with some better shit\n  Son, them niggas probably home right now, for real regrettin' it\n  I don't wanna be y'all, when I see y'all, we settin' it\n  Niggas on my dick so much, I brought a saddle\n  We can take it to the streets (Word up\n  Word up), bring your heat, battle\n  For your 740 Bimmer with your shorty Kima in it\n  If you platinum, you can drive me through Manhattan while I hit her\n  Everywhere I go (I let 'em know) Starang's the shit\n  Over three hundred thousand fans and ain't never had a hit\n  William H. the name, M.F.C.'s the clique\n  Y'all niggas takin' us out? Y'all smokin' the shit\n\n  Retreat, retreat, all Pussycat\n  It's the three Magnavox comin' take over\n  Retreat, retreat, all Pussycat\n  It's the three Magnavox comin' take over\n\n  It's Sean P, you better recognize, I be wreckin' guys\n  Fuckin' cockroaches, still breathin'? I'll be pesticide\n  Like D-Con, see, Sean been on some shit from day one\n  Spray guns at funny style niggas who actin' gay, son\n  Ruck made the paper, you can turn to page one\n  Butt-fuckin' a chick with a motherfuckin' gauge, son\n  Who said that? Ruck said, \"Whack shit and you'll dead that\"\n  'Fore the head crack, leave your face lumpy like Craig Mack\n  I read that, niggas want\n  I blast black jeans, green socks\n  Serve the fans quick like you serve the fiend rock\n  Understand the scene is locked\n  With the deadbolt hit them in the throat\n  Ride 'em like a jet black coat\n  Through the jungle, it's another rumble\n  When I set his soul free\n  And flee from his body back to G-O-D, see\n  I ain't never heard of that nigga\n  In the first place I hit him in the worst place, in his waist\n  See the replacement killer\n  On some dope shit so I'm a drug dealer\n  So for reala, on point with the nine milla\n  Straight give a nigga guillotine shit\n  Head come off clean with one stroke\n  Two tokes from the mac till he\n  Give a motherfucker two's in the belly\n  Stop lookin' actin' like you shot from the ass\n  Whip a nigga while you trippin'\n  Don't start slippin' now fool keep flippin'\n\n  Yo it was on to the next phase\n  Spit ink on the page I saw rage\n  No sugar and sour like lemonade\n  Bean came to me in a dream\n  He said come clean so I scalped the braids\n  I'm on my way, got this shit straight out the gate\n  When the C.O. say, \"get back up on your duty\"\n  Yo I'm out spittin' arson, new shit is startin'\n  But ain't shit changed you know your brains beg your pardon\n  Starve like Marv I'm on the job\n  First broad gets off, motherfuckers lick the knob\n  It be like that, when I, clap at time\n  I feel it deeply, for my niggas I left behind\n  I rep for mine, here's some, feel the shine\n  Can't say no names, cause all my niggas is on my mind\n  Yo I'm all about peace or need, and me money\n  Jah Jah, come bring your ass here to papa\n\n  Hahaha, I told y'all, it went down like this\n  You swore I told y'all, first came one\n  Then came two then came five and we still ain't done\n  First one prophesized, '98 we rule peep the scripture\n  Now peep the walkin' can of ass with Mr. Flixsta\n  Deacon Flixsta, Magnum Force, Heltah Skeltah\n  WWBCC, Worldwide Whodaminiflexion\n  For now, forever, for life\n  Magnum Force, the Magnum Force criminals, MFC\n  Motherfuck the coppers, word is bond\n  Magnum Force Crooks Committee, convicts\n  Ceez in the change of the way the consultants\n  The motherfuckin' crimeys, and we out\n  Fuck all y'all motherfuckin' baby one eatin'\n  Pink panty wearin' with bras to match ass\n  Sons and daughters of punk bitches and bastards\n  Word up\n"},{"id":11554917,"name":"Gang's All Here","trackName":"Gang's All Here","artistName":"Heltah Skeltah feat. MFC & BCC","albumName":"Magnum Force","duration":549.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Thunderfoot]\nAiyyo I been spittin this rap shit for too long To let y'all heads\nget me hot under my collar through songs And best don't get it\ntwisted My Magnum Force practice Operation:\nLockdown And don't you clowns ever forget it The other half'll feel\nmy brother's wrath,\nthat we break through And always\nbeen the type to take you there like?\nWarren Staples?\nBlow spots wit no glock the show stop when domes pop\nYou should of stayed your ass home bop, you got a flow--not\n\nI set it off on a mission like the Sentinel Cuz I was sent to do,\nmurder the crew sayin I'm merciful I wrote a few,\njournals in my Nocturnal state Blaze like an inferno,\nwatch niggas just cremate Too late to run and turn to Rev.\nRun Some blessin the section,\ngivin them niggas quick trips to heaven Straight murder wit the\nunheard-a, lyritifical Beneficial,\nthat you never pursure the issue The ninth initial,\nthought as to rip the bits n kibbles I kick ass, more than a little,\nmy rhyme riddle Your mind's a dead veg-e-table when I\nhit you Doin like I should do, bringin Noyz to my acquittal\n\nWit no discrepency, I rip MC wit no referee Devil tested me,\ncan't let him get the best of me Wit accuracy,\nI'll attack an MC Spittin like I emptied the M-1 from the M-P Wit no\napology, unload on your property causing atrocity At a rapid\nvelocity, mental artillery,\nmilitary anatomy After you battle me call me your majesty for\nmastering The art of fastening, grappling,\nlocking down this rapping thing Tackling the majority,\nbomb with authority More than minority,\nS-T got seniority Rhymin since\nKnowledge and Quality wit college degree\nKill out to all the enemy,\nwe killin all a dem Kill out to all the\nenemy, don't matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\nDoc ain't nuttin but the truth,\n100% when I get bent It's possible that I'm mad, forget?\nI'm blind, deaf, and mute To all you shit poppers,\nput your money where your mouth at I roll wit bank stoppers,\nfive-foot Reps who whip ass Erases coppers, it's mandatory,\nthat D-O-C stay shittin Laws and lows to keep you hoes on my didick\nMy foes stay foes so all you jacks need to quit it Doc shines,\nhot lines, and jackers come and get it And\none false move, I'm guaranteed to be acquitted\n\nAiyyo, we gang bangin, through the tri-state area Act up,\nmy MFC niggas'll have to bury ya Ain't nuttin scarier,\nthan a five-foot eight nigga Holding the big toast,\nmake yo chest piece shake I cut niggas like class and glass from\ndirty bottles Runnin through these streets high-speed at full\nthrottle Ghetto role models,\nso what the fuck y'all tellin me Misdemeanor cats wit raps,\nwannabe felonies Fuck sellin trees man,\nI smoke too much I lay my raps, get my traps,\nthen I roast the dutch Y'all niggas boast too much,\nabout the shit you got I hope the money save\nthat ass when the shit get hot It's Lidu Rock\n\nMany think I ain't got it in me,\ncuz I'm plenty-friendly It could be because I'm\nskinny But I'll fuck you up like Henny and Remmy?\nIf any of trash?, we'll I'll scream \" gimme\"\nTo any who make it hard to Get Away like Tim or\nPenny Semi-auto, wit a swift into your track,?\nit cracks?\nAnd creeps morse code,\nI'm sendin smoke signals That's how my gats be Tactics,\nI crack piece are phenomenal Ask peeps,\nwhat kinda drama do the Bummy Jab wreak He'll tell ya,\nthe boy cause straight Heltah Skeltah I got the block sweltering and\nhot like your biotch when I felt her So don't fuck wit my head,\ngot static I'm buckin you dead I'll bend your body like Craftmatic\nAdjustable Bed Fuck what you said,\nfor y'all I got nuttin but lead-o And stop fuckin askin me why Ruck\ncut his dreads It's up in the air, we buckin from here,\nto where you rest at In a jet black,\nExpedition fishin to get some get back\nKill out to all our enemies,\nwe killin all a dem Kill out to all our\nenemies, no matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\nMy militant mind's impervious to submission Maintain in the rank,\nglorious in this division Killa Cartel-N-MFC in collision The scene\ncould get bloody, two teams wit one mission I stomps through the\ncrack slums of mother Medina Push weed to stack funds for my mother\nDina Rustee Jux-man, Brooklyn mercenary Some say it's rap,\nsome say it's legendary The pack that run wit me,\nattack wit guns swiftly My young legion niggas got smacked on\none-fifty Cold mashin, straight blastin,\nsteady mobbin I rose to large drug dealin from petty robbin\n\nWell it's the five-eight,\nhands I'm holdin brothers for ransom Operation generation down to the\nseeds of your grandson And blow off like a handgun,\nhittin niggas at random Damn son,\ngot love for thugs singin my anthem I amp them,\nspittin my raps spectacular Forever clappin the rapper that's bitin\nlike he Dracula You see what happens to all of these fake rhyme\nfashioners I bring disaster to niggas thats claimin they done\nmastered the Art, who's the next on my chart to mark You know I swim\nwit the shark, why y'all niggas wanna start Big gram and knee\nlow, stay on the d-low Rollin black in the back of the fat Ex-P-O\n\nWell it's the lazy-eye criminal,\nbaby nines the minimum In the gat cabin,\nTek we make it happen You just rappin,\nbitch niggas get bitch smacked when You start yappin,\nget your shine snatched for flashin Straight extorted,\nlike an IRS audit You never gonna\nbust that gun, so why you bought it?\nSee you came home frolic,\nbut you show fake love Like the Feds try to get close and lay down\nbugs Try to skate but got schemed on,\nyou had to lay Didn't know niggas got Desert E's and PK's\n\nMe and my crew ride up and down St.\nJames like a pack of great danes Ain't shit changed,\nsee y'all niggas take your gold frames Spit in your face and I'm a\nhave to smack flames Out your ass for tryin to laugh and plus play\ngames (word up) We ain't Connecticut,\nain't even sweatin it Pack up your bags bitch,\ncome wit some better shit Son them niggas probably home right now,\nfor real regretting it I don't want to be y'all,\nwhen we see y'all I'm settin it Niggas on my dick so\nmuch I brought a saddle We can take it to the streets\n(word up word up),\nbring your heat, battle For your seven-forty Beamer,\nwit your shorty Kima in it If you platinum you can drive me through\nManhattan while I hit it Everywhere I go,\nI let em know Starang's the shit Over\nthree-hundred thousand fans and ain't never had a hit William H.\nis the name,\nMFC's the click Y'all niggas takin us out?, y'all smokin the shit\n\nRetreat retreat, all pussy boys,\nretreat Magnum Force come to take over Retreat,\nretreat, all pussy boys, retreat Magnum Force come to take over)\n\nSEAN P., you better recognize,\nI be wreckin guys Fuckin cockroaches still breathin up your\npesticides Like D-Con,\nsee Sean be on some shit from day one Spray guns at funny style\nniggas who actin gay son Ruck made the paper,\nyou could turn to page one Butt-fuckin your\nchick wit a mothafuckin gauge son Who said that?\nRuck said wack shit, aiyyo dead that For the headcrack,\nleave your face lumpy like Craig Mack I\nread that, niggas want beef aiyyo so get back?\nHappen in?\nperson cuz I'm hurtin niggas who said that You fuckin wet back,\nsmack you wit the fuck med's pack Then have sex at,\nthe same place I park my Lex at [Buckshot] The last black gene,\ngreen socks Serve the fans quick like servin fiend rock Understand\nthe scene is locked, when you dead bolt Hit em in the throat,\nride em like the jet black colt Through the jungle,\nit's another rumble when I set it so free And flee from his body back\nto the OGC I never heard of that nigga,\nin the first place I hit him in the worst place,\nhid the waste Need a replacement killa,\nhustle dope shit so I'm a drug dealer So for real-a,\non point wit the nine mill-a Straight give\na nigga guillotine shit Heads come off the?\nlean?\nwit one stroke Two tokes from the mack tilly Give a mothafucker two\nto the belly Stop, look and acting like the shot from your ass\nwhippin Nigga, why you trippin,\ndon't start slippin now Fool keep flippin\nIt's not over, it's not over, oh oh\n\nYo it was on to the next phase Spit ink on a page,\nhostile rage No sugar and sour like lemmonade Bing came to me in a\ndream he said \" come clean\" So I scalped and praise,\nI'm on my way Gat and pick straight out the gate When I see yo say\n\" you back up on your duty?\" Yo my mouth spittin arson,\nnew shit is startin But ain't shit changed,\nyou know your range,\nbeg your pardon Starv like Marv, I'm on the job First rob and?\nslug?\nmothafuckers licked the knob Be like that,\nwhen I clap back time I feel it deeply,\nfor my niggas I left behind I rep for mine,\nhere son feel the shine Can't say no names,\ncuz all my niggas is on my mind Yo I'm all about me\nsonee, hand me money Ja Ja, and bring yo ass here to poppa","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Gang's All Here\n  artist: Heltah Skeltah feat. MFC & BCC\n  album: Magnum Force\n  duration_ms: 549000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Thunderfoot]\n  Aiyyo I been spittin this rap shit for too long To let y'all heads\n  get me hot under my collar through songs And best don't get it\n  twisted My Magnum Force practice Operation:\n  Lockdown And don't you clowns ever forget it The other half'll feel\n  my brother's wrath,\n  that we break through And always\n  been the type to take you there like?\n  Warren Staples?\n  Blow spots wit no glock the show stop when domes pop\n  You should of stayed your ass home bop, you got a flow--not\n\n  I set it off on a mission like the Sentinel Cuz I was sent to do,\n  murder the crew sayin I'm merciful I wrote a few,\n  journals in my Nocturnal state Blaze like an inferno,\n  watch niggas just cremate Too late to run and turn to Rev.\n  Run Some blessin the section,\n  givin them niggas quick trips to heaven Straight murder wit the\n  unheard-a, lyritifical Beneficial,\n  that you never pursure the issue The ninth initial,\n  thought as to rip the bits n kibbles I kick ass, more than a little,\n  my rhyme riddle Your mind's a dead veg-e-table when I\n  hit you Doin like I should do, bringin Noyz to my acquittal\n\n  Wit no discrepency, I rip MC wit no referee Devil tested me,\n  can't let him get the best of me Wit accuracy,\n  I'll attack an MC Spittin like I emptied the M-1 from the M-P Wit no\n  apology, unload on your property causing atrocity At a rapid\n  velocity, mental artillery,\n  military anatomy After you battle me call me your majesty for\n  mastering The art of fastening, grappling,\n  locking down this rapping thing Tackling the majority,\n  bomb with authority More than minority,\n  S-T got seniority Rhymin since\n  Knowledge and Quality wit college degree\n  Kill out to all the enemy,\n  we killin all a dem Kill out to all the\n  enemy, don't matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\n  Doc ain't nuttin but the truth,\n  100% when I get bent It's possible that I'm mad, forget?\n  I'm blind, deaf, and mute To all you shit poppers,\n  put your money where your mouth at I roll wit bank stoppers,\n  five-foot Reps who whip ass Erases coppers, it's mandatory,\n  that D-O-C stay shittin Laws and lows to keep you hoes on my didick\n  My foes stay foes so all you jacks need to quit it Doc shines,\n  hot lines, and jackers come and get it And\n  one false move, I'm guaranteed to be acquitted\n\n  Aiyyo, we gang bangin, through the tri-state area Act up,\n  my MFC niggas'll have to bury ya Ain't nuttin scarier,\n  than a five-foot eight nigga Holding the big toast,\n  make yo chest piece shake I cut niggas like class and glass from\n  dirty bottles Runnin through these streets high-speed at full\n  throttle Ghetto role models,\n  so what the fuck y'all tellin me Misdemeanor cats wit raps,\n  wannabe felonies Fuck sellin trees man,\n  I smoke too much I lay my raps, get my traps,\n  then I roast the dutch Y'all niggas boast too much,\n  about the shit you got I hope the money save\n  that ass when the shit get hot It's Lidu Rock\n\n  Many think I ain't got it in me,\n  cuz I'm plenty-friendly It could be because I'm\n  skinny But I'll fuck you up like Henny and Remmy?\n  If any of trash?, we'll I'll scream \" gimme\"\n  To any who make it hard to Get Away like Tim or\n  Penny Semi-auto, wit a swift into your track,?\n  it cracks?\n  And creeps morse code,\n  I'm sendin smoke signals That's how my gats be Tactics,\n  I crack piece are phenomenal Ask peeps,\n  what kinda drama do the Bummy Jab wreak He'll tell ya,\n  the boy cause straight Heltah Skeltah I got the block sweltering and\n  hot like your biotch when I felt her So don't fuck wit my head,\n  got static I'm buckin you dead I'll bend your body like Craftmatic\n  Adjustable Bed Fuck what you said,\n  for y'all I got nuttin but lead-o And stop fuckin askin me why Ruck\n  cut his dreads It's up in the air, we buckin from here,\n  to where you rest at In a jet black,\n  Expedition fishin to get some get back\n  Kill out to all our enemies,\n  we killin all a dem Kill out to all our\n  enemies, no matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\n  My militant mind's impervious to submission Maintain in the rank,\n  glorious in this division Killa Cartel-N-MFC in collision The scene\n  could get bloody, two teams wit one mission I stomps through the\n  crack slums of mother Medina Push weed to stack funds for my mother\n  Dina Rustee Jux-man, Brooklyn mercenary Some say it's rap,\n  some say it's legendary The pack that run wit me,\n  attack wit guns swiftly My young legion niggas got smacked on\n  one-fifty Cold mashin, straight blastin,\n  steady mobbin I rose to large drug dealin from petty robbin\n\n  Well it's the five-eight,\n  hands I'm holdin brothers for ransom Operation generation down to the\n  seeds of your grandson And blow off like a handgun,\n  hittin niggas at random Damn son,\n  got love for thugs singin my anthem I amp them,\n  spittin my raps spectacular Forever clappin the rapper that's bitin\n  like he Dracula You see what happens to all of these fake rhyme\n  fashioners I bring disaster to niggas thats claimin they done\n  mastered the Art, who's the next on my chart to mark You know I swim\n  wit the shark, why y'all niggas wanna start Big gram and knee\n  low, stay on the d-low Rollin black in the back of the fat Ex-P-O\n\n  Well it's the lazy-eye criminal,\n  baby nines the minimum In the gat cabin,\n  Tek we make it happen You just rappin,\n  bitch niggas get bitch smacked when You start yappin,\n  get your shine snatched for flashin Straight extorted,\n  like an IRS audit You never gonna\n  bust that gun, so why you bought it?\n  See you came home frolic,\n  but you show fake love Like the Feds try to get close and lay down\n  bugs Try to skate but got schemed on,\n  you had to lay Didn't know niggas got Desert E's and PK's\n\n  Me and my crew ride up and down St.\n  James like a pack of great danes Ain't shit changed,\n  see y'all niggas take your gold frames Spit in your face and I'm a\n  have to smack flames Out your ass for tryin to laugh and plus play\n  games (word up) We ain't Connecticut,\n  ain't even sweatin it Pack up your bags bitch,\n  come wit some better shit Son them niggas probably home right now,\n  for real regretting it I don't want to be y'all,\n  when we see y'all I'm settin it Niggas on my dick so\n  much I brought a saddle We can take it to the streets\n  (word up word up),\n  bring your heat, battle For your seven-forty Beamer,\n  wit your shorty Kima in it If you platinum you can drive me through\n  Manhattan while I hit it Everywhere I go,\n  I let em know Starang's the shit Over\n  three-hundred thousand fans and ain't never had a hit William H.\n  is the name,\n  MFC's the click Y'all niggas takin us out?, y'all smokin the shit\n\n  Retreat retreat, all pussy boys,\n  retreat Magnum Force come to take over Retreat,\n  retreat, all pussy boys, retreat Magnum Force come to take over)\n\n  SEAN P., you better recognize,\n  I be wreckin guys Fuckin cockroaches still breathin up your\n  pesticides Like D-Con,\n  see Sean be on some shit from day one Spray guns at funny style\n  niggas who actin gay son Ruck made the paper,\n  you could turn to page one Butt-fuckin your\n  chick wit a mothafuckin gauge son Who said that?\n  Ruck said wack shit, aiyyo dead that For the headcrack,\n  leave your face lumpy like Craig Mack I\n  read that, niggas want beef aiyyo so get back?\n  Happen in?\n  person cuz I'm hurtin niggas who said that You fuckin wet back,\n  smack you wit the fuck med's pack Then have sex at,\n  the same place I park my Lex at [Buckshot] The last black gene,\n  green socks Serve the fans quick like servin fiend rock Understand\n  the scene is locked, when you dead bolt Hit em in the throat,\n  ride em like the jet black colt Through the jungle,\n  it's another rumble when I set it so free And flee from his body back\n  to the OGC I never heard of that nigga,\n  in the first place I hit him in the worst place,\n  hid the waste Need a replacement killa,\n  hustle dope shit so I'm a drug dealer So for real-a,\n  on point wit the nine mill-a Straight give\n  a nigga guillotine shit Heads come off the?\n  lean?\n  wit one stroke Two tokes from the mack tilly Give a mothafucker two\n  to the belly Stop, look and acting like the shot from your ass\n  whippin Nigga, why you trippin,\n  don't start slippin now Fool keep flippin\n  It's not over, it's not over, oh oh\n\n  Yo it was on to the next phase Spit ink on a page,\n  hostile rage No sugar and sour like lemmonade Bing came to me in a\n  dream he said \" come clean\" So I scalped and praise,\n  I'm on my way Gat and pick straight out the gate When I see yo say\n  \" you back up on your duty?\" Yo my mouth spittin arson,\n  new shit is startin But ain't shit changed,\n  you know your range,\n  beg your pardon Starv like Marv, I'm on the job First rob and?\n  slug?\n  mothafuckers licked the knob Be like that,\n  when I clap back time I feel it deeply,\n  for my niggas I left behind I rep for mine,\n  here son feel the shine Can't say no names,\n  cuz all my niggas is on my mind Yo I'm all about me\n  sonee, hand me money Ja Ja, and bring yo ass here to poppa\n"},{"id":10546358,"name":"Gang's All Here","trackName":"Gang's All Here","artistName":"Heltah Skeltah feat. MFC & Boot Camp Clik","albumName":"Magnum Force","duration":549.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Thunderfoot]\nAiyyo I been spittin this rap shit for too long To let y'all heads\nget me hot under my collar through songs And best don't get it\ntwisted My Magnum Force practice Operation:\nLockdown And don't you clowns ever forget it The other half'll feel\nmy brother's wrath,\nthat we break through And always\nbeen the type to take you there like?\nWarren Staples?\nBlow spots wit no glock the show stop when domes pop\nYou should of stayed your ass home bop, you got a flow--not\n\nI set it off on a mission like the Sentinel Cuz I was sent to do,\nmurder the crew sayin I'm merciful I wrote a few,\njournals in my Nocturnal state Blaze like an inferno,\nwatch niggas just cremate Too late to run and turn to Rev.\nRun Some blessin the section,\ngivin them niggas quick trips to heaven Straight murder wit the\nunheard-a, lyritifical Beneficial,\nthat you never pursure the issue The ninth initial,\nthought as to rip the bits n kibbles I kick ass, more than a little,\nmy rhyme riddle Your mind's a dead veg-e-table when I\nhit you Doin like I should do, bringin Noyz to my acquittal\n\nWit no discrepency, I rip MC wit no referee Devil tested me,\ncan't let him get the best of me Wit accuracy,\nI'll attack an MC Spittin like I emptied the M-1 from the M-P Wit no\napology, unload on your property causing atrocity At a rapid\nvelocity, mental artillery,\nmilitary anatomy After you battle me call me your majesty for\nmastering The art of fastening, grappling,\nlocking down this rapping thing Tackling the majority,\nbomb with authority More than minority,\nS-T got seniority Rhymin since\nKnowledge and Quality wit college degree\nKill out to all the enemy,\nwe killin all a dem Kill out to all the\nenemy, don't matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\nDoc ain't nuttin but the truth,\n100% when I get bent It's possible that I'm mad, forget?\nI'm blind, deaf, and mute To all you shit poppers,\nput your money where your mouth at I roll wit bank stoppers,\nfive-foot Reps who whip ass Erases coppers, it's mandatory,\nthat D-O-C stay shittin Laws and lows to keep you hoes on my didick\nMy foes stay foes so all you jacks need to quit it Doc shines,\nhot lines, and jackers come and get it And\none false move, I'm guaranteed to be acquitted\n\nAiyyo, we gang bangin, through the tri-state area Act up,\nmy MFC niggas'll have to bury ya Ain't nuttin scarier,\nthan a five-foot eight nigga Holding the big toast,\nmake yo chest piece shake I cut niggas like class and glass from\ndirty bottles Runnin through these streets high-speed at full\nthrottle Ghetto role models,\nso what the fuck y'all tellin me Misdemeanor cats wit raps,\nwannabe felonies Fuck sellin trees man,\nI smoke too much I lay my raps, get my traps,\nthen I roast the dutch Y'all niggas boast too much,\nabout the shit you got I hope the money save\nthat ass when the shit get hot It's Lidu Rock\n\nMany think I ain't got it in me,\ncuz I'm plenty-friendly It could be because I'm\nskinny But I'll fuck you up like Henny and Remmy?\nIf any of trash?, we'll I'll scream \" gimme\"\nTo any who make it hard to Get Away like Tim or\nPenny Semi-auto, wit a swift into your track,?\nit cracks?\nAnd creeps morse code,\nI'm sendin smoke signals That's how my gats be Tactics,\nI crack piece are phenomenal Ask peeps,\nwhat kinda drama do the Bummy Jab wreak He'll tell ya,\nthe boy cause straight Heltah Skeltah I got the block sweltering and\nhot like your biotch when I felt her So don't fuck wit my head,\ngot static I'm buckin you dead I'll bend your body like Craftmatic\nAdjustable Bed Fuck what you said,\nfor y'all I got nuttin but lead-o And stop fuckin askin me why Ruck\ncut his dreads It's up in the air, we buckin from here,\nto where you rest at In a jet black,\nExpedition fishin to get some get back\nKill out to all our enemies,\nwe killin all a dem Kill out to all our\nenemies, no matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\nMy militant mind's impervious to submission Maintain in the rank,\nglorious in this division Killa Cartel-N-MFC in collision The scene\ncould get bloody, two teams wit one mission I stomps through the\ncrack slums of mother Medina Push weed to stack funds for my mother\nDina Rustee Jux-man, Brooklyn mercenary Some say it's rap,\nsome say it's legendary The pack that run wit me,\nattack wit guns swiftly My young legion niggas got smacked on\none-fifty Cold mashin, straight blastin,\nsteady mobbin I rose to large drug dealin from petty robbin\n\nWell it's the five-eight,\nhands I'm holdin brothers for ransom Operation generation down to the\nseeds of your grandson And blow off like a handgun,\nhittin niggas at random Damn son,\ngot love for thugs singin my anthem I amp them,\nspittin my raps spectacular Forever clappin the rapper that's bitin\nlike he Dracula You see what happens to all of these fake rhyme\nfashioners I bring disaster to niggas thats claimin they done\nmastered the Art, who's the next on my chart to mark You know I swim\nwit the shark, why y'all niggas wanna start Big gram and knee\nlow, stay on the d-low Rollin black in the back of the fat Ex-P-O\n\nWell it's the lazy-eye criminal,\nbaby nines the minimum In the gat cabin,\nTek we make it happen You just rappin,\nbitch niggas get bitch smacked when You start yappin,\nget your shine snatched for flashin Straight extorted,\nlike an IRS audit You never gonna\nbust that gun, so why you bought it?\nSee you came home frolic,\nbut you show fake love Like the Feds try to get close and lay down\nbugs Try to skate but got schemed on,\nyou had to lay Didn't know niggas got Desert E's and PK's\n\nMe and my crew ride up and down St.\nJames like a pack of great danes Ain't shit changed,\nsee y'all niggas take your gold frames Spit in your face and I'm a\nhave to smack flames Out your ass for tryin to laugh and plus play\ngames (word up) We ain't Connecticut,\nain't even sweatin it Pack up your bags bitch,\ncome wit some better shit Son them niggas probably home right now,\nfor real regretting it I don't want to be y'all,\nwhen we see y'all I'm settin it Niggas on my dick so\nmuch I brought a saddle We can take it to the streets\n(word up word up),\nbring your heat, battle For your seven-forty Beamer,\nwit your shorty Kima in it If you platinum you can drive me through\nManhattan while I hit it Everywhere I go,\nI let em know Starang's the shit Over\nthree-hundred thousand fans and ain't never had a hit William H.\nis the name,\nMFC's the click Y'all niggas takin us out?, y'all smokin the shit\n\nRetreat retreat, all pussy boys,\nretreat Magnum Force come to take over Retreat,\nretreat, all pussy boys, retreat Magnum Force come to take over)\n\nSEAN P., you better recognize,\nI be wreckin guys Fuckin cockroaches still breathin up your\npesticides Like D-Con,\nsee Sean be on some shit from day one Spray guns at funny style\nniggas who actin gay son Ruck made the paper,\nyou could turn to page one Butt-fuckin your\nchick wit a mothafuckin gauge son Who said that?\nRuck said wack shit, aiyyo dead that For the headcrack,\nleave your face lumpy like Craig Mack I\nread that, niggas want beef aiyyo so get back?\nHappen in?\nperson cuz I'm hurtin niggas who said that You fuckin wet back,\nsmack you wit the fuck med's pack Then have sex at,\nthe same place I park my Lex at [Buckshot] The last black gene,\ngreen socks Serve the fans quick like servin fiend rock Understand\nthe scene is locked, when you dead bolt Hit em in the throat,\nride em like the jet black colt Through the jungle,\nit's another rumble when I set it so free And flee from his body back\nto the OGC I never heard of that nigga,\nin the first place I hit him in the worst place,\nhid the waste Need a replacement killa,\nhustle dope shit so I'm a drug dealer So for real-a,\non point wit the nine mill-a Straight give\na nigga guillotine shit Heads come off the?\nlean?\nwit one stroke Two tokes from the mack tilly Give a mothafucker two\nto the belly Stop, look and acting like the shot from your ass\nwhippin Nigga, why you trippin,\ndon't start slippin now Fool keep flippin\nIt's not over, it's not over, oh oh\n\nYo it was on to the next phase Spit ink on a page,\nhostile rage No sugar and sour like lemmonade Bing came to me in a\ndream he said \" come clean\" So I scalped and praise,\nI'm on my way Gat and pick straight out the gate When I see yo say\n\" you back up on your duty?\" Yo my mouth spittin arson,\nnew shit is startin But ain't shit changed,\nyou know your range,\nbeg your pardon Starv like Marv, I'm on the job First rob and?\nslug?\nmothafuckers licked the knob Be like that,\nwhen I clap back time I feel it deeply,\nfor my niggas I left behind I rep for mine,\nhere son feel the shine Can't say no names,\ncuz all my niggas is on my mind Yo I'm all about me\nsonee, hand me money Ja Ja, and bring yo ass here to poppa","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Gang's All Here\n  artist: Heltah Skeltah feat. MFC & Boot Camp Clik\n  album: Magnum Force\n  duration_ms: 549000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Thunderfoot]\n  Aiyyo I been spittin this rap shit for too long To let y'all heads\n  get me hot under my collar through songs And best don't get it\n  twisted My Magnum Force practice Operation:\n  Lockdown And don't you clowns ever forget it The other half'll feel\n  my brother's wrath,\n  that we break through And always\n  been the type to take you there like?\n  Warren Staples?\n  Blow spots wit no glock the show stop when domes pop\n  You should of stayed your ass home bop, you got a flow--not\n\n  I set it off on a mission like the Sentinel Cuz I was sent to do,\n  murder the crew sayin I'm merciful I wrote a few,\n  journals in my Nocturnal state Blaze like an inferno,\n  watch niggas just cremate Too late to run and turn to Rev.\n  Run Some blessin the section,\n  givin them niggas quick trips to heaven Straight murder wit the\n  unheard-a, lyritifical Beneficial,\n  that you never pursure the issue The ninth initial,\n  thought as to rip the bits n kibbles I kick ass, more than a little,\n  my rhyme riddle Your mind's a dead veg-e-table when I\n  hit you Doin like I should do, bringin Noyz to my acquittal\n\n  Wit no discrepency, I rip MC wit no referee Devil tested me,\n  can't let him get the best of me Wit accuracy,\n  I'll attack an MC Spittin like I emptied the M-1 from the M-P Wit no\n  apology, unload on your property causing atrocity At a rapid\n  velocity, mental artillery,\n  military anatomy After you battle me call me your majesty for\n  mastering The art of fastening, grappling,\n  locking down this rapping thing Tackling the majority,\n  bomb with authority More than minority,\n  S-T got seniority Rhymin since\n  Knowledge and Quality wit college degree\n  Kill out to all the enemy,\n  we killin all a dem Kill out to all the\n  enemy, don't matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\n  Doc ain't nuttin but the truth,\n  100% when I get bent It's possible that I'm mad, forget?\n  I'm blind, deaf, and mute To all you shit poppers,\n  put your money where your mouth at I roll wit bank stoppers,\n  five-foot Reps who whip ass Erases coppers, it's mandatory,\n  that D-O-C stay shittin Laws and lows to keep you hoes on my didick\n  My foes stay foes so all you jacks need to quit it Doc shines,\n  hot lines, and jackers come and get it And\n  one false move, I'm guaranteed to be acquitted\n\n  Aiyyo, we gang bangin, through the tri-state area Act up,\n  my MFC niggas'll have to bury ya Ain't nuttin scarier,\n  than a five-foot eight nigga Holding the big toast,\n  make yo chest piece shake I cut niggas like class and glass from\n  dirty bottles Runnin through these streets high-speed at full\n  throttle Ghetto role models,\n  so what the fuck y'all tellin me Misdemeanor cats wit raps,\n  wannabe felonies Fuck sellin trees man,\n  I smoke too much I lay my raps, get my traps,\n  then I roast the dutch Y'all niggas boast too much,\n  about the shit you got I hope the money save\n  that ass when the shit get hot It's Lidu Rock\n\n  Many think I ain't got it in me,\n  cuz I'm plenty-friendly It could be because I'm\n  skinny But I'll fuck you up like Henny and Remmy?\n  If any of trash?, we'll I'll scream \" gimme\"\n  To any who make it hard to Get Away like Tim or\n  Penny Semi-auto, wit a swift into your track,?\n  it cracks?\n  And creeps morse code,\n  I'm sendin smoke signals That's how my gats be Tactics,\n  I crack piece are phenomenal Ask peeps,\n  what kinda drama do the Bummy Jab wreak He'll tell ya,\n  the boy cause straight Heltah Skeltah I got the block sweltering and\n  hot like your biotch when I felt her So don't fuck wit my head,\n  got static I'm buckin you dead I'll bend your body like Craftmatic\n  Adjustable Bed Fuck what you said,\n  for y'all I got nuttin but lead-o And stop fuckin askin me why Ruck\n  cut his dreads It's up in the air, we buckin from here,\n  to where you rest at In a jet black,\n  Expedition fishin to get some get back\n  Kill out to all our enemies,\n  we killin all a dem Kill out to all our\n  enemies, no matter if it's enemy or friend)\n\n  My militant mind's impervious to submission Maintain in the rank,\n  glorious in this division Killa Cartel-N-MFC in collision The scene\n  could get bloody, two teams wit one mission I stomps through the\n  crack slums of mother Medina Push weed to stack funds for my mother\n  Dina Rustee Jux-man, Brooklyn mercenary Some say it's rap,\n  some say it's legendary The pack that run wit me,\n  attack wit guns swiftly My young legion niggas got smacked on\n  one-fifty Cold mashin, straight blastin,\n  steady mobbin I rose to large drug dealin from petty robbin\n\n  Well it's the five-eight,\n  hands I'm holdin brothers for ransom Operation generation down to the\n  seeds of your grandson And blow off like a handgun,\n  hittin niggas at random Damn son,\n  got love for thugs singin my anthem I amp them,\n  spittin my raps spectacular Forever clappin the rapper that's bitin\n  like he Dracula You see what happens to all of these fake rhyme\n  fashioners I bring disaster to niggas thats claimin they done\n  mastered the Art, who's the next on my chart to mark You know I swim\n  wit the shark, why y'all niggas wanna start Big gram and knee\n  low, stay on the d-low Rollin black in the back of the fat Ex-P-O\n\n  Well it's the lazy-eye criminal,\n  baby nines the minimum In the gat cabin,\n  Tek we make it happen You just rappin,\n  bitch niggas get bitch smacked when You start yappin,\n  get your shine snatched for flashin Straight extorted,\n  like an IRS audit You never gonna\n  bust that gun, so why you bought it?\n  See you came home frolic,\n  but you show fake love Like the Feds try to get close and lay down\n  bugs Try to skate but got schemed on,\n  you had to lay Didn't know niggas got Desert E's and PK's\n\n  Me and my crew ride up and down St.\n  James like a pack of great danes Ain't shit changed,\n  see y'all niggas take your gold frames Spit in your face and I'm a\n  have to smack flames Out your ass for tryin to laugh and plus play\n  games (word up) We ain't Connecticut,\n  ain't even sweatin it Pack up your bags bitch,\n  come wit some better shit Son them niggas probably home right now,\n  for real regretting it I don't want to be y'all,\n  when we see y'all I'm settin it Niggas on my dick so\n  much I brought a saddle We can take it to the streets\n  (word up word up),\n  bring your heat, battle For your seven-forty Beamer,\n  wit your shorty Kima in it If you platinum you can drive me through\n  Manhattan while I hit it Everywhere I go,\n  I let em know Starang's the shit Over\n  three-hundred thousand fans and ain't never had a hit William H.\n  is the name,\n  MFC's the click Y'all niggas takin us out?, y'all smokin the shit\n\n  Retreat retreat, all pussy boys,\n  retreat Magnum Force come to take over Retreat,\n  retreat, all pussy boys, retreat Magnum Force come to take over)\n\n  SEAN P., you better recognize,\n  I be wreckin guys Fuckin cockroaches still breathin up your\n  pesticides Like D-Con,\n  see Sean be on some shit from day one Spray guns at funny style\n  niggas who actin gay son Ruck made the paper,\n  you could turn to page one Butt-fuckin your\n  chick wit a mothafuckin gauge son Who said that?\n  Ruck said wack shit, aiyyo dead that For the headcrack,\n  leave your face lumpy like Craig Mack I\n  read that, niggas want beef aiyyo so get back?\n  Happen in?\n  person cuz I'm hurtin niggas who said that You fuckin wet back,\n  smack you wit the fuck med's pack Then have sex at,\n  the same place I park my Lex at [Buckshot] The last black gene,\n  green socks Serve the fans quick like servin fiend rock Understand\n  the scene is locked, when you dead bolt Hit em in the throat,\n  ride em like the jet black colt Through the jungle,\n  it's another rumble when I set it so free And flee from his body back\n  to the OGC I never heard of that nigga,\n  in the first place I hit him in the worst place,\n  hid the waste Need a replacement killa,\n  hustle dope shit so I'm a drug dealer So for real-a,\n  on point wit the nine mill-a Straight give\n  a nigga guillotine shit Heads come off the?\n  lean?\n  wit one stroke Two tokes from the mack tilly Give a mothafucker two\n  to the belly Stop, look and acting like the shot from your ass\n  whippin Nigga, why you trippin,\n  don't start slippin now Fool keep flippin\n  It's not over, it's not over, oh oh\n\n  Yo it was on to the next phase Spit ink on a page,\n  hostile rage No sugar and sour like lemmonade Bing came to me in a\n  dream he said \" come clean\" So I scalped and praise,\n  I'm on my way Gat and pick straight out the gate When I see yo say\n  \" you back up on your duty?\" Yo my mouth spittin arson,\n  new shit is startin But ain't shit changed,\n  you know your range,\n  beg your pardon Starv like Marv, I'm on the job First rob and?\n  slug?\n  mothafuckers licked the knob Be like that,\n  when I clap back time I feel it deeply,\n  for my niggas I left behind I rep for mine,\n  here son feel the shine Can't say no names,\n  cuz all my niggas is on my mind Yo I'm all about me\n  sonee, hand me money Ja Ja, and bring yo ass here to poppa\n"}]