[{"id":25249692,"name":"Emotionless (feat. Juelz Santana)","trackName":"Emotionless (feat. Juelz Santana)","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Evil Empire-Dipset Skull Gang (Hosted By Jim Jones)","duration":231.026939,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless (feat. Juelz Santana)\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Evil Empire-Dipset Skull Gang (Hosted By Jim Jones)\n  duration_ms: 231027\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":27883467,"name":"Emotionless (Feat. Juelz Santana)","trackName":"Emotionless (Feat. Juelz Santana)","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Jones Time","duration":259.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless (Feat. Juelz Santana)\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Jones Time\n  duration_ms: 259000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":6053536,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Hustler's P.o.m.e. (Expanded Edition)","duration":285.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.18] Cold sweats from bad dreams\n[00:14.63] I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n[00:17.75] 'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n[00:20.49] We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n[00:23.23] Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n[00:26.15] Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n[00:29.66] And outlaws is what it made us\n[00:32.13] We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n[00:35.57] Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n[00:37.72] Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n[00:41.35] And due to my political ties\n[00:43.71] I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n[00:47.19] And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n[00:50.25] You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n[00:53.40] You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n[00:55.86] Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n[00:59.56] Boy, you talk about my life here\n[01:02.06] Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n[01:04.46] And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n[01:07.37] The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n[01:09.49] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[01:13.73] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[01:17.22] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[01:20.25] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:23.53] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[01:26.14] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[01:29.16] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[01:32.03] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:34.45] Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n[01:37.02] Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n[01:40.48] Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n[01:42.79] Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n[01:45.96] Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n[01:48.45] Five thousand spent on pants, man\n[01:52.00] Bitches love it, niggas want it\n[01:54.47] So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n[01:57.38] Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n[02:00.62] You better stay out the forest, warning\n[02:03.66] It's Santana he fucks\n[02:06.45] Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n[02:10.12] I see you clear, my antennas is up\n[02:12.18] And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n[02:14.75] What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n[02:18.44] Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n[02:21.54] Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n[02:24.01] Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n[02:27.14] Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n[02:29.84] Your corpse, flies will emerge\n[02:32.04] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[02:36.66] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[02:42.23] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[02:44.12] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:45.94] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[02:48.50] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[02:51.69] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[02:54.27] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:57.15] They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n[02:59.20] Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n[03:02.26] And now do you wanna ride or die?\n[03:04.82] Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n[03:07.98] I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n[03:10.48] The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n[03:14.63] Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n[03:16.94] I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n[03:20.34] My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n[03:22.60] And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n[03:26.01] You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n[03:27.97] Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n[03:30.55] They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n[03:34.51] When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n[03:37.57] They try to catch me out of bounds\n[03:40.79] They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n[03:44.09] A thug changes and love changes\n[03:46.88] And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n[03:54.12] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[03:58.58] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[04:02.29] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[04:04.95] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[04:08.31] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[04:10.67] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[04:14.15] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[04:16.81] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[04:20.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Hustler's P.o.m.e. (Expanded Edition)\n  duration_ms: 285000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  start_ms: 13180\n  end_ms: 14630\n- text: I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  start_ms: 14630\n  end_ms: 17750\n- text: '''Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers'\n  start_ms: 17750\n  end_ms: 20490\n- text: We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n  start_ms: 20490\n  end_ms: 23230\n- text: Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  start_ms: 23230\n  end_ms: 26150\n- text: Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  start_ms: 26150\n  end_ms: 29660\n- text: And outlaws is what it made us\n  start_ms: 29660\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35570\n- text: Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  start_ms: 35570\n  end_ms: 37720\n- text: Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  start_ms: 37720\n  end_ms: 41350\n- text: And due to my political ties\n  start_ms: 41350\n  end_ms: 43710\n- text: I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n  start_ms: 43710\n  end_ms: 47190\n- text: And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  start_ms: 47190\n  end_ms: 50250\n- text: You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  start_ms: 50250\n  end_ms: 53400\n- text: You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  start_ms: 53400\n  end_ms: 55860\n- text: Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n  start_ms: 55860\n  end_ms: 59560\n- text: Boy, you talk about my life here\n  start_ms: 59560\n  end_ms: 62060\n- text: Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  start_ms: 62060\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 67370\n- text: The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n  start_ms: 67370\n  end_ms: 69490\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 69490\n  end_ms: 73730\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 73730\n  end_ms: 77220\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 77220\n  end_ms: 80250\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 80250\n  end_ms: 83530\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 83530\n  end_ms: 86140\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 86140\n  end_ms: 89160\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 89160\n  end_ms: 92030\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 92030\n  end_ms: 94450\n- text: Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  start_ms: 94450\n  end_ms: 97020\n- text: Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  start_ms: 97020\n  end_ms: 100480\n- text: Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  start_ms: 100480\n  end_ms: 102790\n- text: Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n  start_ms: 102790\n  end_ms: 105960\n- text: Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  start_ms: 105960\n  end_ms: 108450\n- text: Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  start_ms: 108450\n  end_ms: 112000\n- text: Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  start_ms: 112000\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117380\n- text: Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  start_ms: 117380\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: You better stay out the forest, warning\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123660\n- text: It's Santana he fucks\n  start_ms: 123660\n  end_ms: 126450\n- text: Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n  start_ms: 126450\n  end_ms: 130120\n- text: I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  start_ms: 130120\n  end_ms: 132180\n- text: And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  start_ms: 132180\n  end_ms: 134750\n- text: What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  start_ms: 134750\n  end_ms: 138440\n- text: Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n  start_ms: 138440\n  end_ms: 141540\n- text: Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  start_ms: 141540\n  end_ms: 144010\n- text: Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  start_ms: 144010\n  end_ms: 147140\n- text: Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  start_ms: 147140\n  end_ms: 149840\n- text: Your corpse, flies will emerge\n  start_ms: 149840\n  end_ms: 152040\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 152040\n  end_ms: 156660\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 156660\n  end_ms: 162230\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 162230\n  end_ms: 164120\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 164120\n  end_ms: 165940\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 165940\n  end_ms: 168500\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 168500\n  end_ms: 171690\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 171690\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 177150\n- text: They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  start_ms: 177150\n  end_ms: 179200\n- text: Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  start_ms: 179200\n  end_ms: 182260\n- text: And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  start_ms: 182260\n  end_ms: 184820\n- text: Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n  start_ms: 184820\n  end_ms: 187980\n- text: I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  start_ms: 187980\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 194630\n- text: Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  start_ms: 194630\n  end_ms: 196940\n- text: I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n  start_ms: 196940\n  end_ms: 200340\n- text: My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  start_ms: 200340\n  end_ms: 202600\n- text: And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  start_ms: 202600\n  end_ms: 206010\n- text: You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  start_ms: 206010\n  end_ms: 207970\n- text: Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n  start_ms: 207970\n  end_ms: 210550\n- text: They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  start_ms: 210550\n  end_ms: 214510\n- text: When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  start_ms: 214510\n  end_ms: 217570\n- text: They try to catch me out of bounds\n  start_ms: 217570\n  end_ms: 220790\n- text: They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n  start_ms: 220790\n  end_ms: 224090\n- text: A thug changes and love changes\n  start_ms: 224090\n  end_ms: 226880\n- text: And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n  start_ms: 226880\n  end_ms: 234120\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 234120\n  end_ms: 238580\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 238580\n  end_ms: 242290\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 242290\n  end_ms: 244950\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 244950\n  end_ms: 248310\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 248310\n  end_ms: 250670\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 250670\n  end_ms: 254150\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 254150\n  end_ms: 256810\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 256810\n  end_ms: 260230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 260230\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":6052928,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Hustler's P.O.M.E. (Product Of My Environment)","duration":285.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Lemme two-twelve wit' you for second, holla at you\nTrue story\nCold sweats (sweaty sheets)\nFrom bad dreams (nightmares)\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers (Dipset)\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us (solemnly swear)\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us (pray for me)\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life, and so we ball out major (ballin')\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride (full speed ahead)\nDue to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride (East Side)\nAnd if my gun boys ain't heard of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nikes\nBoy you talk about my life here\nFuck wit' OGs that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\nPut my emotions aside (why?)\n'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\nHe can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\nPoured off Bentley\nLooking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man (man)\nBitches love it, nigga's want it\nSo bad they wanna take it, but I kill 'em for it (huh)\nBelieve it, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana you fucks,\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? (What you want?)\nDough boys in the trap, where ya at? (where ya at?)\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good? (what's good?)\nBoys getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell come meet the man that's stamping them bricks (us)\nFly wit' the Byrds, or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\nPut my emotions aside (why?)\n'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\nHe can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster (speeding)\nNow, do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky (that purple)\nI'm drunk staring B\nI need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar (that mixture)\nAnd it all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murderers, the most shady (DipSet)\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me (Jones)\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing (speeding)\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town (loaded)\nA thug changes, and love changes\nAnd since 9/11, the price of the drugs changes\n(Changes, changes, changes, changes, changes, changes)\nPut my emotions aside (why?)\n'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\nHe can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":"[00:06.72] Lemme two-twelve wit' you for second, holla at you\n[00:09.99] True story\n[00:11.23] Cold sweats (sweaty sheets)\n[00:13.24] From bad dreams (nightmares)\n[00:14.47] I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n[00:17.21] 'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers (Dipset)\n[00:20.12] We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n[00:23.03] Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us (solemnly swear)\n[00:25.97] Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us (pray for me)\n[00:28.81] And outlaws is what it made us\n[00:31.94] We live the fast life, and so we ball out major (ballin')\n[00:34.97] Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n[00:37.67] Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride (full speed ahead)\n[00:40.70] Due to my political ties\n[00:43.42] I can't roll around without the drip in the ride (East Side)\n[00:46.89] And if my gun boys ain't heard of ya\n[00:50.16] You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n[00:52.82] You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n[00:55.74] Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nikes\n[00:58.76] Boy you talk about my life here\n[01:01.76] Fuck wit' OGs that put dice in the mirror\n[01:04.33] And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n[01:07.34] The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n[01:08.97] Put my emotions aside (why?)\n[01:11.68] 'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n[01:13.99] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[01:15.91] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[01:17.31] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[01:20.15] And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n[01:23.14] He can never take me alive (no)\n[01:25.78] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[01:27.30] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[01:28.89] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[01:31.87] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:34.30] Poured off Bentley\n[01:35.48] Looking like steroids\n[01:36.85] Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n[01:39.80] Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n[01:42.51] Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n[01:45.50] Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n[01:48.43] Five thousand spent on pants, man (man)\n[01:51.57] Bitches love it, nigga's want it\n[01:54.23] So bad they wanna take it, but I kill 'em for it (huh)\n[01:57.17] Believe it, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n[02:00.59] You better stay out the forest, warning\n[02:03.68] It's Santana you fucks,\n[02:06.22] Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n[02:09.20] I see you clear, my antennas is up\n[02:11.92] And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n[02:14.45] What you want? (What you want?)\n[02:15.72] Dough boys in the trap, where ya at? (where ya at?)\n[02:17.91] Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good? (what's good?)\n[02:20.99] Boys getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n[02:23.79] Well come meet the man that's stamping them bricks (us)\n[02:26.73] Fly wit' the Byrds, or lie wit' the dirt\n[02:29.69] Your corpse, flies will emerge\n[02:31.56] Put my emotions aside (why?)\n[02:33.80] 'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n[02:36.61] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[02:38.07] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[02:39.81] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[02:42.58] And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n[02:45.57] He can never take me alive (no)\n[02:48.42] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[02:49.90] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[02:51.49] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[02:53.97] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:56.43] They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n[02:58.99] Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster (speeding)\n[03:02.16] Now, do you wanna ride or die?\n[03:04.73] Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky (that purple)\n[03:07.62] I'm drunk staring B\n[03:10.17] I need therapy\n[03:11.17] The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n[03:13.93] Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n[03:16.74] I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n[03:19.60] My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar (that mixture)\n[03:22.59] And it all come back, like grams of the hard\n[03:25.54] You heard of us, the murderers, the most shady (DipSet)\n[03:28.43] Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me (Jones)\n[03:31.13] They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n[03:34.48] When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing (speeding)\n[03:37.81] They try to catch me out of bounds\n[03:40.28] They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town (loaded)\n[03:43.78] A thug changes, and love changes\n[03:46.38] And since 9/11, the price of the drugs changes\n[03:49.13] (Changes, changes, changes, changes, changes, changes)\n[03:54.12] Put my emotions aside (why?)\n[03:56.65] 'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n[03:59.03] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[04:00.44] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[04:02.17] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[04:04.74] And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n[04:08.15] He can never take me alive (no)\n[04:10.94] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[04:12.36] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[04:13.96] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[04:16.88] And if I'm standing in front of the judge","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Hustler's P.O.M.E. (Product Of My Environment)\n  duration_ms: 285000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Lemme two-twelve wit' you for second, holla at you\n  start_ms: 6720\n  end_ms: 9990\n- text: True story\n  start_ms: 9990\n  end_ms: 11230\n- text: Cold sweats (sweaty sheets)\n  start_ms: 11230\n  end_ms: 13240\n- text: From bad dreams (nightmares)\n  start_ms: 13240\n  end_ms: 14470\n- text: I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  start_ms: 14470\n  end_ms: 17210\n- text: '''Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers (Dipset)'\n  start_ms: 17210\n  end_ms: 20120\n- text: We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n  start_ms: 20120\n  end_ms: 23030\n- text: Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us (solemnly swear)\n  start_ms: 23030\n  end_ms: 25970\n- text: Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us (pray for me)\n  start_ms: 25970\n  end_ms: 28810\n- text: And outlaws is what it made us\n  start_ms: 28810\n  end_ms: 31940\n- text: We live the fast life, and so we ball out major (ballin')\n  start_ms: 31940\n  end_ms: 34970\n- text: Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  start_ms: 34970\n  end_ms: 37670\n- text: Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride (full speed ahead)\n  start_ms: 37670\n  end_ms: 40700\n- text: Due to my political ties\n  start_ms: 40700\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: I can't roll around without the drip in the ride (East Side)\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 46890\n- text: And if my gun boys ain't heard of ya\n  start_ms: 46890\n  end_ms: 50160\n- text: You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  start_ms: 50160\n  end_ms: 52820\n- text: You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  start_ms: 52820\n  end_ms: 55740\n- text: Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nikes\n  start_ms: 55740\n  end_ms: 58760\n- text: Boy you talk about my life here\n  start_ms: 58760\n  end_ms: 61760\n- text: Fuck wit' OGs that put dice in the mirror\n  start_ms: 61760\n  end_ms: 64330\n- text: And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  start_ms: 64330\n  end_ms: 67340\n- text: The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n  start_ms: 67340\n  end_ms: 68970\n- text: Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  start_ms: 68970\n  end_ms: 71680\n- text: '''Cause they can never take me alive (no)'\n  start_ms: 71680\n  end_ms: 73990\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 73990\n  end_ms: 75910\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 75910\n  end_ms: 77310\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 77310\n  end_ms: 80150\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  start_ms: 80150\n  end_ms: 83140\n- text: He can never take me alive (no)\n  start_ms: 83140\n  end_ms: 85780\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 85780\n  end_ms: 87300\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 87300\n  end_ms: 88890\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 88890\n  end_ms: 91870\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 91870\n  end_ms: 94300\n- text: Poured off Bentley\n  start_ms: 94300\n  end_ms: 95480\n- text: Looking like steroids\n  start_ms: 95480\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99800\n- text: Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  start_ms: 99800\n  end_ms: 102510\n- text: Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n  start_ms: 102510\n  end_ms: 105500\n- text: Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  start_ms: 105500\n  end_ms: 108430\n- text: Five thousand spent on pants, man (man)\n  start_ms: 108430\n  end_ms: 111570\n- text: Bitches love it, nigga's want it\n  start_ms: 111570\n  end_ms: 114230\n- text: So bad they wanna take it, but I kill 'em for it (huh)\n  start_ms: 114230\n  end_ms: 117170\n- text: Believe it, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  start_ms: 117170\n  end_ms: 120590\n- text: You better stay out the forest, warning\n  start_ms: 120590\n  end_ms: 123680\n- text: It's Santana you fucks,\n  start_ms: 123680\n  end_ms: 126220\n- text: Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n  start_ms: 126220\n  end_ms: 129200\n- text: I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  start_ms: 129200\n  end_ms: 131920\n- text: And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  start_ms: 131920\n  end_ms: 134450\n- text: What you want? (What you want?)\n  start_ms: 134450\n  end_ms: 135720\n- text: Dough boys in the trap, where ya at? (where ya at?)\n  start_ms: 135720\n  end_ms: 137910\n- text: Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good? (what's good?)\n  start_ms: 137910\n  end_ms: 140990\n- text: Boys getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  start_ms: 140990\n  end_ms: 143790\n- text: Well come meet the man that's stamping them bricks (us)\n  start_ms: 143790\n  end_ms: 146730\n- text: Fly wit' the Byrds, or lie wit' the dirt\n  start_ms: 146730\n  end_ms: 149690\n- text: Your corpse, flies will emerge\n  start_ms: 149690\n  end_ms: 151560\n- text: Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  start_ms: 151560\n  end_ms: 153800\n- text: '''Cause they can never take me alive (no)'\n  start_ms: 153800\n  end_ms: 156610\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 156610\n  end_ms: 158070\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 158070\n  end_ms: 159810\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 159810\n  end_ms: 162580\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  start_ms: 162580\n  end_ms: 165570\n- text: He can never take me alive (no)\n  start_ms: 165570\n  end_ms: 168420\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 168420\n  end_ms: 169900\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 169900\n  end_ms: 171490\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 171490\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176430\n- text: They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  start_ms: 176430\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster (speeding)\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 182160\n- text: Now, do you wanna ride or die?\n  start_ms: 182160\n  end_ms: 184730\n- text: Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky (that purple)\n  start_ms: 184730\n  end_ms: 187620\n- text: I'm drunk staring B\n  start_ms: 187620\n  end_ms: 190170\n- text: I need therapy\n  start_ms: 190170\n  end_ms: 191170\n- text: The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  start_ms: 191170\n  end_ms: 193930\n- text: Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  start_ms: 193930\n  end_ms: 196740\n- text: I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n  start_ms: 196740\n  end_ms: 199600\n- text: My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar (that mixture)\n  start_ms: 199600\n  end_ms: 202590\n- text: And it all come back, like grams of the hard\n  start_ms: 202590\n  end_ms: 205540\n- text: You heard of us, the murderers, the most shady (DipSet)\n  start_ms: 205540\n  end_ms: 208430\n- text: Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me (Jones)\n  start_ms: 208430\n  end_ms: 211130\n- text: They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  start_ms: 211130\n  end_ms: 214480\n- text: When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing (speeding)\n  start_ms: 214480\n  end_ms: 217810\n- text: They try to catch me out of bounds\n  start_ms: 217810\n  end_ms: 220280\n- text: They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town (loaded)\n  start_ms: 220280\n  end_ms: 223780\n- text: A thug changes, and love changes\n  start_ms: 223780\n  end_ms: 226380\n- text: And since 9/11, the price of the drugs changes\n  start_ms: 226380\n  end_ms: 229130\n- text: (Changes, changes, changes, changes, changes, changes)\n  start_ms: 229130\n  end_ms: 234120\n- text: Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  start_ms: 234120\n  end_ms: 236650\n- text: '''Cause they can never take me alive (no)'\n  start_ms: 236650\n  end_ms: 239030\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 239030\n  end_ms: 240440\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 240440\n  end_ms: 242170\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 242170\n  end_ms: 244740\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  start_ms: 244740\n  end_ms: 248150\n- text: He can never take me alive (no)\n  start_ms: 248150\n  end_ms: 250940\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 250940\n  end_ms: 252360\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 252360\n  end_ms: 253960\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 253960\n  end_ms: 256880\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 256880\nplain: |-\n  Lemme two-twelve wit' you for second, holla at you\n  True story\n  Cold sweats (sweaty sheets)\n  From bad dreams (nightmares)\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers (Dipset)\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us (solemnly swear)\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us (pray for me)\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life, and so we ball out major (ballin')\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride (full speed ahead)\n  Due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride (East Side)\n  And if my gun boys ain't heard of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nikes\n  Boy you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit' OGs that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n  Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  He can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  Poured off Bentley\n  Looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man (man)\n  Bitches love it, nigga's want it\n  So bad they wanna take it, but I kill 'em for it (huh)\n  Believe it, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana you fucks,\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? (What you want?)\n  Dough boys in the trap, where ya at? (where ya at?)\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good? (what's good?)\n  Boys getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well come meet the man that's stamping them bricks (us)\n  Fly wit' the Byrds, or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n  Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  He can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster (speeding)\n  Now, do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky (that purple)\n  I'm drunk staring B\n  I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar (that mixture)\n  And it all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murderers, the most shady (DipSet)\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me (Jones)\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing (speeding)\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town (loaded)\n  A thug changes, and love changes\n  And since 9/11, the price of the drugs changes\n  (Changes, changes, changes, changes, changes, changes)\n  Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  He can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":30832667,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Jimmy Blanco 2 (Capos Way)","duration":291.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Lemme two-twelve wit' you for second, holla at you\nTrue story\nCold sweats (sweaty sheets)\nFrom bad dreams (nightmares)\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers (Dipset)\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us (solemnly swear)\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us (pray for me)\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life, and so we ball out major (ballin')\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride (full speed ahead)\nDue to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride (East Side)\nAnd if my gun boys ain't heard of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nikes\nBoy you talk about my life here\nFuck wit' OGs that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\nPut my emotions aside (why?)\n'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\nHe can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\nPoured off Bentley\nLooking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man (man)\nBitches love it, nigga's want it\nSo bad they wanna take it, but I kill 'em for it (huh)\nBelieve it, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana you fucks,\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? (What you want?)\nDough boys in the trap, where ya at? (where ya at?)\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good? (what's good?)\nBoys getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell come meet the man that's stamping them bricks (us)\nFly wit' the Byrds, or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\nPut my emotions aside (why?)\n'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\nHe can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster (speeding)\nNow, do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky (that purple)\nI'm drunk staring B\nI need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar (that mixture)\nAnd it all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murderers, the most shady (DipSet)\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me (Jones)\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing (speeding)\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town (loaded)\nA thug changes, and love changes\nAnd since 9/11, the price of the drugs changes\n(Changes, changes, changes, changes, changes, changes)\nPut my emotions aside (why?)\n'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\nHe can never take me alive (no)\nI'mma ride (I'mma ride)\nAnd don't cry (don't cry)\n'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":"[00:06.72] Lemme two-twelve wit' you for second, holla at you\n[00:09.99] True story\n[00:11.23] Cold sweats (sweaty sheets)\n[00:13.24] From bad dreams (nightmares)\n[00:14.47] I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n[00:17.21] 'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers (Dipset)\n[00:20.12] We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n[00:23.03] Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us (solemnly swear)\n[00:25.97] Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us (pray for me)\n[00:28.81] And outlaws is what it made us\n[00:31.94] We live the fast life, and so we ball out major (ballin')\n[00:34.97] Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n[00:37.67] Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride (full speed ahead)\n[00:40.70] Due to my political ties\n[00:43.42] I can't roll around without the drip in the ride (East Side)\n[00:46.89] And if my gun boys ain't heard of ya\n[00:50.16] You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n[00:52.82] You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n[00:55.74] Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nikes\n[00:58.76] Boy you talk about my life here\n[01:01.76] Fuck wit' OGs that put dice in the mirror\n[01:04.33] And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n[01:07.34] The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n[01:08.97] Put my emotions aside (why?)\n[01:11.68] 'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n[01:13.99] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[01:15.91] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[01:17.31] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[01:20.15] And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n[01:23.14] He can never take me alive (no)\n[01:25.78] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[01:27.30] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[01:28.89] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[01:31.87] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:34.30] Poured off Bentley\n[01:35.48] Looking like steroids\n[01:36.85] Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n[01:39.80] Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n[01:42.51] Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n[01:45.50] Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n[01:48.43] Five thousand spent on pants, man (man)\n[01:51.57] Bitches love it, nigga's want it\n[01:54.23] So bad they wanna take it, but I kill 'em for it (huh)\n[01:57.17] Believe it, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n[02:00.59] You better stay out the forest, warning\n[02:03.68] It's Santana you fucks,\n[02:06.22] Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n[02:09.20] I see you clear, my antennas is up\n[02:11.92] And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n[02:14.45] What you want? (What you want?)\n[02:15.72] Dough boys in the trap, where ya at? (where ya at?)\n[02:17.91] Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good? (what's good?)\n[02:20.99] Boys getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n[02:23.79] Well come meet the man that's stamping them bricks (us)\n[02:26.73] Fly wit' the Byrds, or lie wit' the dirt\n[02:29.69] Your corpse, flies will emerge\n[02:31.56] Put my emotions aside (why?)\n[02:33.80] 'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n[02:36.61] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[02:38.07] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[02:39.81] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[02:42.58] And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n[02:45.57] He can never take me alive (no)\n[02:48.42] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[02:49.90] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[02:51.49] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[02:53.97] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:56.43] They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n[02:58.99] Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster (speeding)\n[03:02.16] Now, do you wanna ride or die?\n[03:04.73] Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky (that purple)\n[03:07.62] I'm drunk staring B\n[03:10.17] I need therapy\n[03:11.17] The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n[03:13.93] Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n[03:16.74] I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n[03:19.60] My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar (that mixture)\n[03:22.59] And it all come back, like grams of the hard\n[03:25.54] You heard of us, the murderers, the most shady (DipSet)\n[03:28.43] Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me (Jones)\n[03:31.13] They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n[03:34.48] When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing (speeding)\n[03:37.81] They try to catch me out of bounds\n[03:40.28] They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town (loaded)\n[03:43.78] A thug changes, and love changes\n[03:46.38] And since 9/11, the price of the drugs changes\n[03:49.13] (Changes, changes, changes, changes, changes, changes)\n[03:54.12] Put my emotions aside (why?)\n[03:56.65] 'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n[03:59.03] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[04:00.44] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[04:02.17] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[04:04.74] And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n[04:08.15] He can never take me alive (no)\n[04:10.94] I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n[04:12.36] And don't cry (don't cry)\n[04:13.96] 'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n[04:16.88] And if I'm standing in front of the judge","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Jimmy Blanco 2 (Capos Way)\n  duration_ms: 291000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Lemme two-twelve wit' you for second, holla at you\n  start_ms: 6720\n  end_ms: 9990\n- text: True story\n  start_ms: 9990\n  end_ms: 11230\n- text: Cold sweats (sweaty sheets)\n  start_ms: 11230\n  end_ms: 13240\n- text: From bad dreams (nightmares)\n  start_ms: 13240\n  end_ms: 14470\n- text: I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  start_ms: 14470\n  end_ms: 17210\n- text: '''Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers (Dipset)'\n  start_ms: 17210\n  end_ms: 20120\n- text: We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n  start_ms: 20120\n  end_ms: 23030\n- text: Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us (solemnly swear)\n  start_ms: 23030\n  end_ms: 25970\n- text: Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us (pray for me)\n  start_ms: 25970\n  end_ms: 28810\n- text: And outlaws is what it made us\n  start_ms: 28810\n  end_ms: 31940\n- text: We live the fast life, and so we ball out major (ballin')\n  start_ms: 31940\n  end_ms: 34970\n- text: Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  start_ms: 34970\n  end_ms: 37670\n- text: Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride (full speed ahead)\n  start_ms: 37670\n  end_ms: 40700\n- text: Due to my political ties\n  start_ms: 40700\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: I can't roll around without the drip in the ride (East Side)\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 46890\n- text: And if my gun boys ain't heard of ya\n  start_ms: 46890\n  end_ms: 50160\n- text: You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  start_ms: 50160\n  end_ms: 52820\n- text: You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  start_ms: 52820\n  end_ms: 55740\n- text: Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nikes\n  start_ms: 55740\n  end_ms: 58760\n- text: Boy you talk about my life here\n  start_ms: 58760\n  end_ms: 61760\n- text: Fuck wit' OGs that put dice in the mirror\n  start_ms: 61760\n  end_ms: 64330\n- text: And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  start_ms: 64330\n  end_ms: 67340\n- text: The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n  start_ms: 67340\n  end_ms: 68970\n- text: Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  start_ms: 68970\n  end_ms: 71680\n- text: '''Cause they can never take me alive (no)'\n  start_ms: 71680\n  end_ms: 73990\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 73990\n  end_ms: 75910\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 75910\n  end_ms: 77310\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 77310\n  end_ms: 80150\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  start_ms: 80150\n  end_ms: 83140\n- text: He can never take me alive (no)\n  start_ms: 83140\n  end_ms: 85780\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 85780\n  end_ms: 87300\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 87300\n  end_ms: 88890\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 88890\n  end_ms: 91870\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 91870\n  end_ms: 94300\n- text: Poured off Bentley\n  start_ms: 94300\n  end_ms: 95480\n- text: Looking like steroids\n  start_ms: 95480\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99800\n- text: Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  start_ms: 99800\n  end_ms: 102510\n- text: Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n  start_ms: 102510\n  end_ms: 105500\n- text: Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  start_ms: 105500\n  end_ms: 108430\n- text: Five thousand spent on pants, man (man)\n  start_ms: 108430\n  end_ms: 111570\n- text: Bitches love it, nigga's want it\n  start_ms: 111570\n  end_ms: 114230\n- text: So bad they wanna take it, but I kill 'em for it (huh)\n  start_ms: 114230\n  end_ms: 117170\n- text: Believe it, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  start_ms: 117170\n  end_ms: 120590\n- text: You better stay out the forest, warning\n  start_ms: 120590\n  end_ms: 123680\n- text: It's Santana you fucks,\n  start_ms: 123680\n  end_ms: 126220\n- text: Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n  start_ms: 126220\n  end_ms: 129200\n- text: I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  start_ms: 129200\n  end_ms: 131920\n- text: And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  start_ms: 131920\n  end_ms: 134450\n- text: What you want? (What you want?)\n  start_ms: 134450\n  end_ms: 135720\n- text: Dough boys in the trap, where ya at? (where ya at?)\n  start_ms: 135720\n  end_ms: 137910\n- text: Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good? (what's good?)\n  start_ms: 137910\n  end_ms: 140990\n- text: Boys getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  start_ms: 140990\n  end_ms: 143790\n- text: Well come meet the man that's stamping them bricks (us)\n  start_ms: 143790\n  end_ms: 146730\n- text: Fly wit' the Byrds, or lie wit' the dirt\n  start_ms: 146730\n  end_ms: 149690\n- text: Your corpse, flies will emerge\n  start_ms: 149690\n  end_ms: 151560\n- text: Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  start_ms: 151560\n  end_ms: 153800\n- text: '''Cause they can never take me alive (no)'\n  start_ms: 153800\n  end_ms: 156610\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 156610\n  end_ms: 158070\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 158070\n  end_ms: 159810\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 159810\n  end_ms: 162580\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  start_ms: 162580\n  end_ms: 165570\n- text: He can never take me alive (no)\n  start_ms: 165570\n  end_ms: 168420\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 168420\n  end_ms: 169900\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 169900\n  end_ms: 171490\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 171490\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176430\n- text: They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  start_ms: 176430\n  end_ms: 178990\n- text: Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster (speeding)\n  start_ms: 178990\n  end_ms: 182160\n- text: Now, do you wanna ride or die?\n  start_ms: 182160\n  end_ms: 184730\n- text: Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky (that purple)\n  start_ms: 184730\n  end_ms: 187620\n- text: I'm drunk staring B\n  start_ms: 187620\n  end_ms: 190170\n- text: I need therapy\n  start_ms: 190170\n  end_ms: 191170\n- text: The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  start_ms: 191170\n  end_ms: 193930\n- text: Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  start_ms: 193930\n  end_ms: 196740\n- text: I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n  start_ms: 196740\n  end_ms: 199600\n- text: My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar (that mixture)\n  start_ms: 199600\n  end_ms: 202590\n- text: And it all come back, like grams of the hard\n  start_ms: 202590\n  end_ms: 205540\n- text: You heard of us, the murderers, the most shady (DipSet)\n  start_ms: 205540\n  end_ms: 208430\n- text: Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me (Jones)\n  start_ms: 208430\n  end_ms: 211130\n- text: They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  start_ms: 211130\n  end_ms: 214480\n- text: When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing (speeding)\n  start_ms: 214480\n  end_ms: 217810\n- text: They try to catch me out of bounds\n  start_ms: 217810\n  end_ms: 220280\n- text: They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town (loaded)\n  start_ms: 220280\n  end_ms: 223780\n- text: A thug changes, and love changes\n  start_ms: 223780\n  end_ms: 226380\n- text: And since 9/11, the price of the drugs changes\n  start_ms: 226380\n  end_ms: 229130\n- text: (Changes, changes, changes, changes, changes, changes)\n  start_ms: 229130\n  end_ms: 234120\n- text: Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  start_ms: 234120\n  end_ms: 236650\n- text: '''Cause they can never take me alive (no)'\n  start_ms: 236650\n  end_ms: 239030\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 239030\n  end_ms: 240440\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 240440\n  end_ms: 242170\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 242170\n  end_ms: 244740\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  start_ms: 244740\n  end_ms: 248150\n- text: He can never take me alive (no)\n  start_ms: 248150\n  end_ms: 250940\n- text: I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  start_ms: 250940\n  end_ms: 252360\n- text: And don't cry (don't cry)\n  start_ms: 252360\n  end_ms: 253960\n- text: '''Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I''m a thug)'\n  start_ms: 253960\n  end_ms: 256880\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 256880\nplain: |-\n  Lemme two-twelve wit' you for second, holla at you\n  True story\n  Cold sweats (sweaty sheets)\n  From bad dreams (nightmares)\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers (Dipset)\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us (solemnly swear)\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us (pray for me)\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life, and so we ball out major (ballin')\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride (full speed ahead)\n  Due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride (East Side)\n  And if my gun boys ain't heard of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nikes\n  Boy you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit' OGs that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n  Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  He can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  Poured off Bentley\n  Looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man (man)\n  Bitches love it, nigga's want it\n  So bad they wanna take it, but I kill 'em for it (huh)\n  Believe it, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana you fucks,\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? (What you want?)\n  Dough boys in the trap, where ya at? (where ya at?)\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good? (what's good?)\n  Boys getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well come meet the man that's stamping them bricks (us)\n  Fly wit' the Byrds, or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n  Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  He can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster (speeding)\n  Now, do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky (that purple)\n  I'm drunk staring B\n  I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar (that mixture)\n  And it all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murderers, the most shady (DipSet)\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me (Jones)\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing (speeding)\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town (loaded)\n  A thug changes, and love changes\n  And since 9/11, the price of the drugs changes\n  (Changes, changes, changes, changes, changes, changes)\n  Put my emotions aside (why?)\n  'Cause they can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge (Guess what?)\n  He can never take me alive (no)\n  I'mma ride (I'mma ride)\n  And don't cry (don't cry)\n  'Cause Momma raised hell of a thug (I'm a thug)\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":16555184,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Hustler's P.O.M.E. (Deluxe Edition)","duration":286.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.18] Cold sweats from bad dreams\n[00:14.63] I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n[00:17.75] 'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n[00:20.49] We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n[00:23.23] Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n[00:26.15] Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n[00:29.66] And outlaws is what it made us\n[00:32.13] We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n[00:35.57] Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n[00:37.72] Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n[00:41.35] And due to my political ties\n[00:43.71] I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n[00:47.19] And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n[00:50.25] You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n[00:53.40] You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n[00:55.86] Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n[00:59.56] Boy, you talk about my life here\n[01:02.06] Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n[01:04.46] And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n[01:07.37] The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n[01:09.49] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[01:13.73] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[01:17.22] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[01:20.25] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:23.53] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[01:26.14] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[01:29.16] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[01:32.03] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:34.45] Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n[01:37.02] Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n[01:40.48] Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n[01:42.79] Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n[01:45.96] Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n[01:48.45] Five thousand spent on pants, man\n[01:52.00] Bitches love it, niggas want it\n[01:54.47] So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n[01:57.38] Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n[02:00.62] You better stay out the forest, warning\n[02:03.66] It's Santana he fucks\n[02:06.45] Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n[02:10.12] I see you clear, my antennas is up\n[02:12.18] And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n[02:14.75] What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n[02:18.44] Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n[02:21.54] Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n[02:24.01] Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n[02:27.14] Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n[02:29.84] Your corpse, flies will emerge\n[02:32.04] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[02:36.66] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[02:42.23] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[02:44.12] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:45.94] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[02:48.50] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[02:51.69] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[02:54.27] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:57.15] They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n[02:59.20] Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n[03:02.26] And now do you wanna ride or die?\n[03:04.82] Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n[03:07.98] I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n[03:10.48] The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n[03:14.63] Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n[03:16.94] I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n[03:20.34] My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n[03:22.60] And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n[03:26.01] You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n[03:27.97] Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n[03:30.55] They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n[03:34.51] When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n[03:37.57] They try to catch me out of bounds\n[03:40.79] They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n[03:44.09] A thug changes and love changes\n[03:46.88] And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n[03:54.12] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[03:58.58] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[04:02.29] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[04:04.95] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[04:08.31] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[04:10.67] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[04:14.15] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[04:16.81] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[04:20.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Hustler's P.O.M.E. (Deluxe Edition)\n  duration_ms: 286000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  start_ms: 13180\n  end_ms: 14630\n- text: I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  start_ms: 14630\n  end_ms: 17750\n- text: '''Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers'\n  start_ms: 17750\n  end_ms: 20490\n- text: We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n  start_ms: 20490\n  end_ms: 23230\n- text: Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  start_ms: 23230\n  end_ms: 26150\n- text: Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  start_ms: 26150\n  end_ms: 29660\n- text: And outlaws is what it made us\n  start_ms: 29660\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35570\n- text: Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  start_ms: 35570\n  end_ms: 37720\n- text: Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  start_ms: 37720\n  end_ms: 41350\n- text: And due to my political ties\n  start_ms: 41350\n  end_ms: 43710\n- text: I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n  start_ms: 43710\n  end_ms: 47190\n- text: And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  start_ms: 47190\n  end_ms: 50250\n- text: You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  start_ms: 50250\n  end_ms: 53400\n- text: You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  start_ms: 53400\n  end_ms: 55860\n- text: Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n  start_ms: 55860\n  end_ms: 59560\n- text: Boy, you talk about my life here\n  start_ms: 59560\n  end_ms: 62060\n- text: Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  start_ms: 62060\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 67370\n- text: The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n  start_ms: 67370\n  end_ms: 69490\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 69490\n  end_ms: 73730\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 73730\n  end_ms: 77220\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 77220\n  end_ms: 80250\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 80250\n  end_ms: 83530\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 83530\n  end_ms: 86140\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 86140\n  end_ms: 89160\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 89160\n  end_ms: 92030\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 92030\n  end_ms: 94450\n- text: Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  start_ms: 94450\n  end_ms: 97020\n- text: Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  start_ms: 97020\n  end_ms: 100480\n- text: Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  start_ms: 100480\n  end_ms: 102790\n- text: Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n  start_ms: 102790\n  end_ms: 105960\n- text: Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  start_ms: 105960\n  end_ms: 108450\n- text: Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  start_ms: 108450\n  end_ms: 112000\n- text: Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  start_ms: 112000\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117380\n- text: Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  start_ms: 117380\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: You better stay out the forest, warning\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123660\n- text: It's Santana he fucks\n  start_ms: 123660\n  end_ms: 126450\n- text: Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n  start_ms: 126450\n  end_ms: 130120\n- text: I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  start_ms: 130120\n  end_ms: 132180\n- text: And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  start_ms: 132180\n  end_ms: 134750\n- text: What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  start_ms: 134750\n  end_ms: 138440\n- text: Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n  start_ms: 138440\n  end_ms: 141540\n- text: Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  start_ms: 141540\n  end_ms: 144010\n- text: Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  start_ms: 144010\n  end_ms: 147140\n- text: Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  start_ms: 147140\n  end_ms: 149840\n- text: Your corpse, flies will emerge\n  start_ms: 149840\n  end_ms: 152040\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 152040\n  end_ms: 156660\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 156660\n  end_ms: 162230\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 162230\n  end_ms: 164120\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 164120\n  end_ms: 165940\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 165940\n  end_ms: 168500\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 168500\n  end_ms: 171690\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 171690\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 177150\n- text: They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  start_ms: 177150\n  end_ms: 179200\n- text: Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  start_ms: 179200\n  end_ms: 182260\n- text: And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  start_ms: 182260\n  end_ms: 184820\n- text: Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n  start_ms: 184820\n  end_ms: 187980\n- text: I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  start_ms: 187980\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 194630\n- text: Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  start_ms: 194630\n  end_ms: 196940\n- text: I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n  start_ms: 196940\n  end_ms: 200340\n- text: My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  start_ms: 200340\n  end_ms: 202600\n- text: And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  start_ms: 202600\n  end_ms: 206010\n- text: You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  start_ms: 206010\n  end_ms: 207970\n- text: Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n  start_ms: 207970\n  end_ms: 210550\n- text: They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  start_ms: 210550\n  end_ms: 214510\n- text: When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  start_ms: 214510\n  end_ms: 217570\n- text: They try to catch me out of bounds\n  start_ms: 217570\n  end_ms: 220790\n- text: They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n  start_ms: 220790\n  end_ms: 224090\n- text: A thug changes and love changes\n  start_ms: 224090\n  end_ms: 226880\n- text: And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n  start_ms: 226880\n  end_ms: 234120\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 234120\n  end_ms: 238580\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 238580\n  end_ms: 242290\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 242290\n  end_ms: 244950\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 244950\n  end_ms: 248310\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 248310\n  end_ms: 250670\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 250670\n  end_ms: 254150\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 254150\n  end_ms: 256810\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 256810\n  end_ms: 260230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 260230\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":22919822,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Hustler's P.O.M.E.","duration":285.675102,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.18] Cold sweats from bad dreams\n[00:14.63] I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n[00:17.75] 'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n[00:20.49] We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n[00:23.23] Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n[00:26.15] Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n[00:29.66] And outlaws is what it made us\n[00:32.13] We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n[00:35.57] Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n[00:37.72] Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n[00:41.35] And due to my political ties\n[00:43.71] I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n[00:47.19] And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n[00:50.25] You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n[00:53.40] You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n[00:55.86] Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n[00:59.56] Boy, you talk about my life here\n[01:02.06] Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n[01:04.46] And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n[01:07.37] The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n[01:09.49] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[01:13.73] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[01:17.22] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[01:20.25] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:23.53] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[01:26.14] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[01:29.16] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[01:32.03] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:34.45] Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n[01:37.02] Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n[01:40.48] Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n[01:42.79] Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n[01:45.96] Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n[01:48.45] Five thousand spent on pants, man\n[01:52.00] Bitches love it, niggas want it\n[01:54.47] So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n[01:57.38] Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n[02:00.62] You better stay out the forest, warning\n[02:03.66] It's Santana he fucks\n[02:06.45] Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n[02:10.12] I see you clear, my antennas is up\n[02:12.18] And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n[02:14.75] What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n[02:18.44] Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n[02:21.54] Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n[02:24.01] Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n[02:27.14] Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n[02:29.84] Your corpse, flies will emerge\n[02:32.04] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[02:36.66] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[02:42.23] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[02:44.12] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:45.94] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[02:48.50] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[02:51.69] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[02:54.27] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:57.15] They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n[02:59.20] Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n[03:02.26] And now do you wanna ride or die?\n[03:04.82] Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n[03:07.98] I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n[03:10.48] The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n[03:14.63] Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n[03:16.94] I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n[03:20.34] My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n[03:22.60] And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n[03:26.01] You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n[03:27.97] Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n[03:30.55] They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n[03:34.51] When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n[03:37.57] They try to catch me out of bounds\n[03:40.79] They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n[03:44.09] A thug changes and love changes\n[03:46.88] And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n[03:54.12] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[03:58.58] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[04:02.29] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[04:04.95] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[04:08.31] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[04:10.67] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[04:14.15] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[04:16.81] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[04:20.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Hustler's P.O.M.E.\n  duration_ms: 285675\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  start_ms: 13180\n  end_ms: 14630\n- text: I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  start_ms: 14630\n  end_ms: 17750\n- text: '''Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers'\n  start_ms: 17750\n  end_ms: 20490\n- text: We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n  start_ms: 20490\n  end_ms: 23230\n- text: Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  start_ms: 23230\n  end_ms: 26150\n- text: Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  start_ms: 26150\n  end_ms: 29660\n- text: And outlaws is what it made us\n  start_ms: 29660\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35570\n- text: Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  start_ms: 35570\n  end_ms: 37720\n- text: Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  start_ms: 37720\n  end_ms: 41350\n- text: And due to my political ties\n  start_ms: 41350\n  end_ms: 43710\n- text: I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n  start_ms: 43710\n  end_ms: 47190\n- text: And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  start_ms: 47190\n  end_ms: 50250\n- text: You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  start_ms: 50250\n  end_ms: 53400\n- text: You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  start_ms: 53400\n  end_ms: 55860\n- text: Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n  start_ms: 55860\n  end_ms: 59560\n- text: Boy, you talk about my life here\n  start_ms: 59560\n  end_ms: 62060\n- text: Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  start_ms: 62060\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 67370\n- text: The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n  start_ms: 67370\n  end_ms: 69490\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 69490\n  end_ms: 73730\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 73730\n  end_ms: 77220\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 77220\n  end_ms: 80250\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 80250\n  end_ms: 83530\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 83530\n  end_ms: 86140\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 86140\n  end_ms: 89160\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 89160\n  end_ms: 92030\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 92030\n  end_ms: 94450\n- text: Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  start_ms: 94450\n  end_ms: 97020\n- text: Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  start_ms: 97020\n  end_ms: 100480\n- text: Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  start_ms: 100480\n  end_ms: 102790\n- text: Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n  start_ms: 102790\n  end_ms: 105960\n- text: Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  start_ms: 105960\n  end_ms: 108450\n- text: Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  start_ms: 108450\n  end_ms: 112000\n- text: Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  start_ms: 112000\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117380\n- text: Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  start_ms: 117380\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: You better stay out the forest, warning\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123660\n- text: It's Santana he fucks\n  start_ms: 123660\n  end_ms: 126450\n- text: Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n  start_ms: 126450\n  end_ms: 130120\n- text: I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  start_ms: 130120\n  end_ms: 132180\n- text: And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  start_ms: 132180\n  end_ms: 134750\n- text: What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  start_ms: 134750\n  end_ms: 138440\n- text: Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n  start_ms: 138440\n  end_ms: 141540\n- text: Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  start_ms: 141540\n  end_ms: 144010\n- text: Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  start_ms: 144010\n  end_ms: 147140\n- text: Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  start_ms: 147140\n  end_ms: 149840\n- text: Your corpse, flies will emerge\n  start_ms: 149840\n  end_ms: 152040\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 152040\n  end_ms: 156660\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 156660\n  end_ms: 162230\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 162230\n  end_ms: 164120\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 164120\n  end_ms: 165940\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 165940\n  end_ms: 168500\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 168500\n  end_ms: 171690\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 171690\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 177150\n- text: They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  start_ms: 177150\n  end_ms: 179200\n- text: Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  start_ms: 179200\n  end_ms: 182260\n- text: And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  start_ms: 182260\n  end_ms: 184820\n- text: Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n  start_ms: 184820\n  end_ms: 187980\n- text: I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  start_ms: 187980\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 194630\n- text: Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  start_ms: 194630\n  end_ms: 196940\n- text: I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n  start_ms: 196940\n  end_ms: 200340\n- text: My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  start_ms: 200340\n  end_ms: 202600\n- text: And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  start_ms: 202600\n  end_ms: 206010\n- text: You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  start_ms: 206010\n  end_ms: 207970\n- text: Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n  start_ms: 207970\n  end_ms: 210550\n- text: They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  start_ms: 210550\n  end_ms: 214510\n- text: When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  start_ms: 214510\n  end_ms: 217570\n- text: They try to catch me out of bounds\n  start_ms: 217570\n  end_ms: 220790\n- text: They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n  start_ms: 220790\n  end_ms: 224090\n- text: A thug changes and love changes\n  start_ms: 224090\n  end_ms: 226880\n- text: And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n  start_ms: 226880\n  end_ms: 234120\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 234120\n  end_ms: 238580\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 238580\n  end_ms: 242290\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 242290\n  end_ms: 244950\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 244950\n  end_ms: 248310\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 248310\n  end_ms: 250670\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 250670\n  end_ms: 254150\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 254150\n  end_ms: 256810\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 256810\n  end_ms: 260230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 260230\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":12418977,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Hustler’s P.O.M.E. (Product of My Environment) (Deluxe Edition)","duration":285.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.18] Cold sweats from bad dreams\n[00:14.63] I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n[00:17.75] 'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n[00:20.49] We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n[00:23.23] Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n[00:26.15] Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n[00:29.66] And outlaws is what it made us\n[00:32.13] We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n[00:35.57] Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n[00:37.72] Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n[00:41.35] And due to my political ties\n[00:43.71] I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n[00:47.19] And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n[00:50.25] You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n[00:53.40] You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n[00:55.86] Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n[00:59.56] Boy, you talk about my life here\n[01:02.06] Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n[01:04.46] And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n[01:07.37] The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n[01:09.49] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[01:13.73] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[01:17.22] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[01:20.25] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:23.53] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[01:26.14] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[01:29.16] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[01:32.03] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:34.45] Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n[01:37.02] Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n[01:40.48] Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n[01:42.79] Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n[01:45.96] Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n[01:48.45] Five thousand spent on pants, man\n[01:52.00] Bitches love it, niggas want it\n[01:54.47] So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n[01:57.38] Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n[02:00.62] You better stay out the forest, warning\n[02:03.66] It's Santana he fucks\n[02:06.45] Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n[02:10.12] I see you clear, my antennas is up\n[02:12.18] And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n[02:14.75] What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n[02:18.44] Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n[02:21.54] Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n[02:24.01] Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n[02:27.14] Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n[02:29.84] Your corpse, flies will emerge\n[02:32.04] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[02:36.66] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[02:42.23] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[02:44.12] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:45.94] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[02:48.50] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[02:51.69] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[02:54.27] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:57.15] They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n[02:59.20] Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n[03:02.26] And now do you wanna ride or die?\n[03:04.82] Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n[03:07.98] I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n[03:10.48] The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n[03:14.63] Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n[03:16.94] I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n[03:20.34] My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n[03:22.60] And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n[03:26.01] You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n[03:27.97] Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n[03:30.55] They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n[03:34.51] When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n[03:37.57] They try to catch me out of bounds\n[03:40.79] They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n[03:44.09] A thug changes and love changes\n[03:46.88] And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n[03:54.12] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[03:58.58] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[04:02.29] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[04:04.95] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[04:08.31] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[04:10.67] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[04:14.15] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[04:16.81] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[04:20.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Hustler’s P.O.M.E. (Product of My Environment) (Deluxe Edition)\n  duration_ms: 285000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  start_ms: 13180\n  end_ms: 14630\n- text: I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  start_ms: 14630\n  end_ms: 17750\n- text: '''Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers'\n  start_ms: 17750\n  end_ms: 20490\n- text: We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n  start_ms: 20490\n  end_ms: 23230\n- text: Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  start_ms: 23230\n  end_ms: 26150\n- text: Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  start_ms: 26150\n  end_ms: 29660\n- text: And outlaws is what it made us\n  start_ms: 29660\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35570\n- text: Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  start_ms: 35570\n  end_ms: 37720\n- text: Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  start_ms: 37720\n  end_ms: 41350\n- text: And due to my political ties\n  start_ms: 41350\n  end_ms: 43710\n- text: I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n  start_ms: 43710\n  end_ms: 47190\n- text: And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  start_ms: 47190\n  end_ms: 50250\n- text: You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  start_ms: 50250\n  end_ms: 53400\n- text: You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  start_ms: 53400\n  end_ms: 55860\n- text: Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n  start_ms: 55860\n  end_ms: 59560\n- text: Boy, you talk about my life here\n  start_ms: 59560\n  end_ms: 62060\n- text: Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  start_ms: 62060\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 67370\n- text: The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n  start_ms: 67370\n  end_ms: 69490\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 69490\n  end_ms: 73730\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 73730\n  end_ms: 77220\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 77220\n  end_ms: 80250\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 80250\n  end_ms: 83530\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 83530\n  end_ms: 86140\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 86140\n  end_ms: 89160\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 89160\n  end_ms: 92030\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 92030\n  end_ms: 94450\n- text: Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  start_ms: 94450\n  end_ms: 97020\n- text: Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  start_ms: 97020\n  end_ms: 100480\n- text: Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  start_ms: 100480\n  end_ms: 102790\n- text: Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n  start_ms: 102790\n  end_ms: 105960\n- text: Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  start_ms: 105960\n  end_ms: 108450\n- text: Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  start_ms: 108450\n  end_ms: 112000\n- text: Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  start_ms: 112000\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117380\n- text: Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  start_ms: 117380\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: You better stay out the forest, warning\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123660\n- text: It's Santana he fucks\n  start_ms: 123660\n  end_ms: 126450\n- text: Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n  start_ms: 126450\n  end_ms: 130120\n- text: I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  start_ms: 130120\n  end_ms: 132180\n- text: And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  start_ms: 132180\n  end_ms: 134750\n- text: What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  start_ms: 134750\n  end_ms: 138440\n- text: Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n  start_ms: 138440\n  end_ms: 141540\n- text: Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  start_ms: 141540\n  end_ms: 144010\n- text: Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  start_ms: 144010\n  end_ms: 147140\n- text: Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  start_ms: 147140\n  end_ms: 149840\n- text: Your corpse, flies will emerge\n  start_ms: 149840\n  end_ms: 152040\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 152040\n  end_ms: 156660\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 156660\n  end_ms: 162230\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 162230\n  end_ms: 164120\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 164120\n  end_ms: 165940\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 165940\n  end_ms: 168500\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 168500\n  end_ms: 171690\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 171690\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 177150\n- text: They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  start_ms: 177150\n  end_ms: 179200\n- text: Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  start_ms: 179200\n  end_ms: 182260\n- text: And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  start_ms: 182260\n  end_ms: 184820\n- text: Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n  start_ms: 184820\n  end_ms: 187980\n- text: I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  start_ms: 187980\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 194630\n- text: Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  start_ms: 194630\n  end_ms: 196940\n- text: I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n  start_ms: 196940\n  end_ms: 200340\n- text: My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  start_ms: 200340\n  end_ms: 202600\n- text: And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  start_ms: 202600\n  end_ms: 206010\n- text: You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  start_ms: 206010\n  end_ms: 207970\n- text: Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n  start_ms: 207970\n  end_ms: 210550\n- text: They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  start_ms: 210550\n  end_ms: 214510\n- text: When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  start_ms: 214510\n  end_ms: 217570\n- text: They try to catch me out of bounds\n  start_ms: 217570\n  end_ms: 220790\n- text: They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n  start_ms: 220790\n  end_ms: 224090\n- text: A thug changes and love changes\n  start_ms: 224090\n  end_ms: 226880\n- text: And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n  start_ms: 226880\n  end_ms: 234120\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 234120\n  end_ms: 238580\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 238580\n  end_ms: 242290\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 242290\n  end_ms: 244950\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 244950\n  end_ms: 248310\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 248310\n  end_ms: 250670\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 250670\n  end_ms: 254150\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 254150\n  end_ms: 256810\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 256810\n  end_ms: 260230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 260230\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":12418980,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jones, Jim","albumName":"Hustler’s P.O.M.E. (Product of My Environment) (Deluxe Edition)","duration":285.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.18] Cold sweats from bad dreams\n[00:14.63] I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n[00:17.75] 'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n[00:20.49] We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n[00:23.23] Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n[00:26.15] Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n[00:29.66] And outlaws is what it made us\n[00:32.13] We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n[00:35.57] Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n[00:37.72] Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n[00:41.35] And due to my political ties\n[00:43.71] I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n[00:47.19] And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n[00:50.25] You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n[00:53.40] You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n[00:55.86] Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n[00:59.56] Boy, you talk about my life here\n[01:02.06] Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n[01:04.46] And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n[01:07.37] The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n[01:09.49] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[01:13.73] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[01:17.22] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[01:20.25] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:23.53] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[01:26.14] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[01:29.16] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[01:32.03] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[01:34.45] Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n[01:37.02] Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n[01:40.48] Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n[01:42.79] Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n[01:45.96] Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n[01:48.45] Five thousand spent on pants, man\n[01:52.00] Bitches love it, niggas want it\n[01:54.47] So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n[01:57.38] Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n[02:00.62] You better stay out the forest, warning\n[02:03.66] It's Santana he fucks\n[02:06.45] Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n[02:10.12] I see you clear, my antennas is up\n[02:12.18] And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n[02:14.75] What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n[02:18.44] Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n[02:21.54] Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n[02:24.01] Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n[02:27.14] Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n[02:29.84] Your corpse, flies will emerge\n[02:32.04] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[02:36.66] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[02:42.23] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[02:44.12] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:45.94] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[02:48.50] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[02:51.69] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[02:54.27] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[02:57.15] They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n[02:59.20] Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n[03:02.26] And now do you wanna ride or die?\n[03:04.82] Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n[03:07.98] I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n[03:10.48] The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n[03:14.63] Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n[03:16.94] I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n[03:20.34] My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n[03:22.60] And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n[03:26.01] You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n[03:27.97] Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n[03:30.55] They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n[03:34.51] When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n[03:37.57] They try to catch me out of bounds\n[03:40.79] They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n[03:44.09] A thug changes and love changes\n[03:46.88] And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n[03:54.12] Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n[03:58.58] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[04:02.29] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[04:04.95] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[04:08.31] And guess what? He can never take me alive\n[04:10.67] I'm a ride and don't cry\n[04:14.15] 'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n[04:16.81] And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n[04:20.23] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jones, Jim\n  album: Hustler’s P.O.M.E. (Product of My Environment) (Deluxe Edition)\n  duration_ms: 285000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  start_ms: 13180\n  end_ms: 14630\n- text: I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  start_ms: 14630\n  end_ms: 17750\n- text: '''Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers'\n  start_ms: 17750\n  end_ms: 20490\n- text: We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n  start_ms: 20490\n  end_ms: 23230\n- text: Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  start_ms: 23230\n  end_ms: 26150\n- text: Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  start_ms: 26150\n  end_ms: 29660\n- text: And outlaws is what it made us\n  start_ms: 29660\n  end_ms: 32130\n- text: We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n  start_ms: 32130\n  end_ms: 35570\n- text: Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  start_ms: 35570\n  end_ms: 37720\n- text: Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  start_ms: 37720\n  end_ms: 41350\n- text: And due to my political ties\n  start_ms: 41350\n  end_ms: 43710\n- text: I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n  start_ms: 43710\n  end_ms: 47190\n- text: And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  start_ms: 47190\n  end_ms: 50250\n- text: You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  start_ms: 50250\n  end_ms: 53400\n- text: You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  start_ms: 53400\n  end_ms: 55860\n- text: Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n  start_ms: 55860\n  end_ms: 59560\n- text: Boy, you talk about my life here\n  start_ms: 59560\n  end_ms: 62060\n- text: Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  start_ms: 62060\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 67370\n- text: The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n  start_ms: 67370\n  end_ms: 69490\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 69490\n  end_ms: 73730\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 73730\n  end_ms: 77220\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 77220\n  end_ms: 80250\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 80250\n  end_ms: 83530\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 83530\n  end_ms: 86140\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 86140\n  end_ms: 89160\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 89160\n  end_ms: 92030\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 92030\n  end_ms: 94450\n- text: Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  start_ms: 94450\n  end_ms: 97020\n- text: Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  start_ms: 97020\n  end_ms: 100480\n- text: Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  start_ms: 100480\n  end_ms: 102790\n- text: Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n  start_ms: 102790\n  end_ms: 105960\n- text: Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  start_ms: 105960\n  end_ms: 108450\n- text: Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  start_ms: 108450\n  end_ms: 112000\n- text: Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  start_ms: 112000\n  end_ms: 114470\n- text: So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n  start_ms: 114470\n  end_ms: 117380\n- text: Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  start_ms: 117380\n  end_ms: 120620\n- text: You better stay out the forest, warning\n  start_ms: 120620\n  end_ms: 123660\n- text: It's Santana he fucks\n  start_ms: 123660\n  end_ms: 126450\n- text: Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n  start_ms: 126450\n  end_ms: 130120\n- text: I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  start_ms: 130120\n  end_ms: 132180\n- text: And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  start_ms: 132180\n  end_ms: 134750\n- text: What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  start_ms: 134750\n  end_ms: 138440\n- text: Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n  start_ms: 138440\n  end_ms: 141540\n- text: Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  start_ms: 141540\n  end_ms: 144010\n- text: Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  start_ms: 144010\n  end_ms: 147140\n- text: Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  start_ms: 147140\n  end_ms: 149840\n- text: Your corpse, flies will emerge\n  start_ms: 149840\n  end_ms: 152040\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 152040\n  end_ms: 156660\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 156660\n  end_ms: 162230\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 162230\n  end_ms: 164120\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 164120\n  end_ms: 165940\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 165940\n  end_ms: 168500\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 168500\n  end_ms: 171690\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 171690\n  end_ms: 174270\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 174270\n  end_ms: 177150\n- text: They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  start_ms: 177150\n  end_ms: 179200\n- text: Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  start_ms: 179200\n  end_ms: 182260\n- text: And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  start_ms: 182260\n  end_ms: 184820\n- text: Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n  start_ms: 184820\n  end_ms: 187980\n- text: I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  start_ms: 187980\n  end_ms: 190480\n- text: The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  start_ms: 190480\n  end_ms: 194630\n- text: Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  start_ms: 194630\n  end_ms: 196940\n- text: I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n  start_ms: 196940\n  end_ms: 200340\n- text: My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  start_ms: 200340\n  end_ms: 202600\n- text: And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  start_ms: 202600\n  end_ms: 206010\n- text: You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  start_ms: 206010\n  end_ms: 207970\n- text: Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n  start_ms: 207970\n  end_ms: 210550\n- text: They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  start_ms: 210550\n  end_ms: 214510\n- text: When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  start_ms: 214510\n  end_ms: 217570\n- text: They try to catch me out of bounds\n  start_ms: 217570\n  end_ms: 220790\n- text: They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n  start_ms: 220790\n  end_ms: 224090\n- text: A thug changes and love changes\n  start_ms: 224090\n  end_ms: 226880\n- text: And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n  start_ms: 226880\n  end_ms: 234120\n- text: Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  start_ms: 234120\n  end_ms: 238580\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 238580\n  end_ms: 242290\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 242290\n  end_ms: 244950\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 244950\n  end_ms: 248310\n- text: And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  start_ms: 248310\n  end_ms: 250670\n- text: I'm a ride and don't cry\n  start_ms: 250670\n  end_ms: 254150\n- text: '''Cause momma raised hell of a thug'\n  start_ms: 254150\n  end_ms: 256810\n- text: And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n  start_ms: 256810\n  end_ms: 260230\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 260230\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":29976459,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones, Juelz Santana","albumName":"Hustlers P.O.M.E. (Product Of My Environment)","duration":285.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones, Juelz Santana\n  album: Hustlers P.O.M.E. (Product Of My Environment)\n  duration_ms: 285000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":5705022,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones feat. Juelz Santana","albumName":"Hustler's P.o.m.e. (Deluxe Edition)","duration":285.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones feat. Juelz Santana\n  album: Hustler's P.o.m.e. (Deluxe Edition)\n  duration_ms: 285000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":31548324,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones feat. Juelz Santana","albumName":"Dj Envy Dipset Bad Guys Vol 17","duration":231.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones feat. Juelz Santana\n  album: Dj Envy Dipset Bad Guys Vol 17\n  duration_ms: 231000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":31378294,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones Feat. Juelz Santana","albumName":"DJ Hitz And Max B-Dipset Movement Part.3","duration":284.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones Feat. Juelz Santana\n  album: DJ Hitz And Max B-Dipset Movement Part.3\n  duration_ms: 284000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":24085190,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones Feat. Juelz Santana","albumName":"DJ Haze & The Game - New Blood Series Pt. 1","duration":152.06515,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones Feat. Juelz Santana\n  album: DJ Haze & The Game - New Blood Series Pt. 1\n  duration_ms: 152065\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":9690872,"name":"Emotionless","trackName":"Emotionless","artistName":"Jim Jones feat. Juelz Santana","albumName":"Hustler's P.O.M.E. (Product of My Environment)","duration":285.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless\n  artist: Jim Jones feat. Juelz Santana\n  album: Hustler's P.O.M.E. (Product of My Environment)\n  duration_ms: 285000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":28385976,"name":"emotionless","trackName":"emotionless","artistName":"jim jones feat. juelz santana","albumName":"Bizkit & Tapemasters Inc.-Tapes Top 20 Vol. 15","duration":259.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: emotionless\n  artist: jim jones feat. juelz santana\n  album: Bizkit & Tapemasters Inc.-Tapes Top 20 Vol. 15\n  duration_ms: 259000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":17345340,"name":"Emotionless (Ft. Juelz Santana)","trackName":"Emotionless (Ft. Juelz Santana)","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Hustler's P.O.M.E. (Product Of My Environment)","duration":285.675102,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless (Ft. Juelz Santana)\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Hustler's P.O.M.E. (Product Of My Environment)\n  duration_ms: 285675\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":22008560,"name":"Emotionless (Ft. Juelz Santana)","trackName":"Emotionless (Ft. Juelz Santana)","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Hustler's P.O.M.E.","duration":285.675102,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless (Ft. Juelz Santana)\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Hustler's P.O.M.E.\n  duration_ms: 285675\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":11931523,"name":"Emotionless (Feat. Juelz Santana)","trackName":"Emotionless (Feat. Juelz Santana)","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Hustler's P.O.M.E. (Product Of My Environment)","duration":285.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Emotionless (Feat. Juelz Santana)\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Hustler's P.O.M.E. (Product Of My Environment)\n  duration_ms: 285000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"},{"id":33245467,"name":"Jim Jones Ft. Juelz Santana - Emotionless","trackName":"Jim Jones Ft. Juelz Santana - Emotionless","artistName":"The Diplomats","albumName":"Dipset Til I Die","duration":286.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Cold sweats from bad dreams\nI hope the Feds don't grab the team\n'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\nWe sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\nTell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\nPraise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\nAnd outlaws is what it made us\nWe live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\nUntil I see a ribbon in the sky\nCop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\nAnd due to my political ties\nI can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\nAnd if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\nYou're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\nYou're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\nYoung, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\nBoy, you talk about my life here\nFuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\nAnd they tell me that life's but a gamble\nThe media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nPoured off Bentley, looking like steroids\nJetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\nMaserati lookin' like a shark on land\nNeiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\nNeiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\nFive thousand spent on pants, man\nBitches love it, niggas want it\nSo bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\nBelieve me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\nYou better stay out the forest, warning\nIt's Santana he fucks\nMoney man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\nI see you clear, my antennas is up\nAnd that hand-scale is still in my pocket\nWhat you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\nCoke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\nBoy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\nWell, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\nFly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\nYour corpse, flies will emerge\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nThey say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\nListening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\nAnd now do you wanna ride or die?\nBlowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\nI'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\nThe paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\nPaper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\nI make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\nMy right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\nAnd it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\nYou heard of us, the murders, the most shady\nBeen on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\nThey try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\nWhen I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\nThey try to catch me out of bounds\nThey know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\nA thug changes and love changes\nAnd since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\nPut my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\nAnd guess what? He can never take me alive\nI'm a ride and don't cry\n'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\nAnd if I'm standing in front of the judge","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Jim Jones Ft. Juelz Santana - Emotionless\n  artist: The Diplomats\n  album: Dipset Til I Die\n  duration_ms: 286000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Cold sweats from bad dreams\n  I hope the Feds don't grab the team\n  'Cause we been labeled as the trouble makers\n  We sell whole pies so you ain't got to cut the cake up\n\n  Tell no lies, so the Lord come and take us\n  Praise to Allah, hope the Lord He forsake us\n  And outlaws is what it made us\n  We live the fast life and so we ball out major\n\n  Until I see a ribbon in the sky\n  Cop plush cars put ribbons on the ride\n  And due to my political ties\n  I can't roll around without the drip in the ride\n\n  And if my gun boys ain't hear of ya\n  You're lightweight I get the young boys to murder ya\n  You're looking at a cracker's worst nightmare\n  Young, black, rich and with a fresh pair Nike\n\n  Boy, you talk about my life here\n  Fuck wit OG's that put dice in the mirror\n  And they tell me that life's but a gamble\n  The media will turn your whole life into a scandal\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  Poured off Bentley, looking like steroids\n  Jetson car, I'm looking like Elroy\n  Maserati lookin' like a shark on land\n  Neiman Marcus edition, contraband\n\n  Neiman Marcus I'm in it, shopping and\n  Five thousand spent on pants, man\n  Bitches love it, niggas want it\n  So bad they wanna take it but I kill 'em for it\n\n  Believe me, I'm like a bear that ain't get his porridge\n  You better stay out the forest, warning\n  It's Santana he fucks\n  Money man, make you do a handstand for the bucks\n\n  I see you clear, my antennas is up\n  And that hand-scale is still in my pocket\n  What you want? Dough boys in the trap, where ya at?\n  Coke dealer's in the hood, what's good?\n\n  Boy getting them bricks with the stamp on the shit\n  Well, come meet the man that's stamping them bricks\n  Fly wit' the Byrds or lie wit' the dirt\n  Your corpse, flies will emerge\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  They say your enemies is close, your friends even closer\n  Listening to 'Pac up ten in the roaster\n  And now do you wanna ride or die?\n  Blowin' smoke in the air, getting high as the sky\n\n  I'm drunk staring B, I need therapy\n  The paranoia got me thinking conspiracy\n  Paper on the brain, the brain on the yayo\n  I make it off the plane I'm a land to a payroll\n\n  My right hand to God, put my right hand in the jar\n  And it'll all come back, like grams of the hard\n  You heard of us, the murders, the most shady\n  Been on the low lately, the Feds hate me\n\n  They try to put cuffs on me and my assailants\n  When I push fees through the streets, they be tailing\n  They try to catch me out of bounds\n  They know I got pistols if you catch me outta town\n\n  A thug changes and love changes\n  And since 9 11, the price of the drugs changes\n\n  Put my emotions aside 'cause they can never take my alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n\n  And guess what? He can never take me alive\n  I'm a ride and don't cry\n  'Cause momma raised hell of a thug\n  And if I'm standing in front of the judge\n"}]