[{"id":7158109,"name":"Rain (feat. Rell, NOE & Starr)","trackName":"Rain (feat. Rell, NOE & Starr)","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Pray IV Reign","duration":332.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nYou couldn't understand how much the pain weight\nSo in the hood we love the rainy days\n'Cause sub constantly we know the sun's coming\nWe love the winter 'cause we know the summers coming\n\nRemember I got locked the same night my son was coming\nAll I could do is pray that they don't take me away\nAnd Lord knows I have the angel's on my side\nThey search the car, I had the hammer in my ride\n\nA miracle on flat bush avenue\nI still made it back to say push when she was having you\nA newer version, a younger me\nI want him to go to school and raise him up gun free\n\nI swear some places I don't want him to be\nAnd I swear some things I don't want him to see\nBut new booty, daddy loves you truly\nSo the nights you don't see me, you know daddy's on his duty\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nWhat's a poor man's pickle? Survive threw the poor\nPull a truck upfront and drive threw the store\nHad to be a felon, hated being proper\nRead the book of life and satin was the author\n\nStill I was the colperate rather be in rikers\nThe bugger had my baby momma running threw them diapers\nAll for that shitting and all them pampers\nGrandma layed up with all of that cancer\n\nLid paint flaking constantly chipping\nMama with that dark rum constantly sipping\nI vow to my name a bad transmission\nFor getting in the game that's a bad transition\n\nOne flick, one night I'm ally ally outsin' free\nFor getting you a place with a G\nA couple heavy shots I'ma newer man ready\nGo and get paper the hustler with the confetti, I'm ready\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nI can truly understand\nHow life can drain all the passion from a man\nWith just one chance it can change his circumstance\nAnd get that money, baby, get that money, babe\nLet's get this money, baby, yeah\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rain (feat. Rell, NOE & Starr)\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Pray IV Reign\n  duration_ms: 332000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  You couldn't understand how much the pain weight\n  So in the hood we love the rainy days\n  'Cause sub constantly we know the sun's coming\n  We love the winter 'cause we know the summers coming\n\n  Remember I got locked the same night my son was coming\n  All I could do is pray that they don't take me away\n  And Lord knows I have the angel's on my side\n  They search the car, I had the hammer in my ride\n\n  A miracle on flat bush avenue\n  I still made it back to say push when she was having you\n  A newer version, a younger me\n  I want him to go to school and raise him up gun free\n\n  I swear some places I don't want him to be\n  And I swear some things I don't want him to see\n  But new booty, daddy loves you truly\n  So the nights you don't see me, you know daddy's on his duty\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  What's a poor man's pickle? Survive threw the poor\n  Pull a truck upfront and drive threw the store\n  Had to be a felon, hated being proper\n  Read the book of life and satin was the author\n\n  Still I was the colperate rather be in rikers\n  The bugger had my baby momma running threw them diapers\n  All for that shitting and all them pampers\n  Grandma layed up with all of that cancer\n\n  Lid paint flaking constantly chipping\n  Mama with that dark rum constantly sipping\n  I vow to my name a bad transmission\n  For getting in the game that's a bad transition\n\n  One flick, one night I'm ally ally outsin' free\n  For getting you a place with a G\n  A couple heavy shots I'ma newer man ready\n  Go and get paper the hustler with the confetti, I'm ready\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  I can truly understand\n  How life can drain all the passion from a man\n  With just one chance it can change his circumstance\n  And get that money, baby, get that money, babe\n  Let's get this money, baby, yeah\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n"},{"id":13085993,"name":"Rain (Feat. Noe, Rell, Starr)","trackName":"Rain (Feat. Noe, Rell, Starr)","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"Pray IV Reign","duration":332.786667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nYou couldn't understand how much the pain weight\nSo in the hood we love the rainy days\n'Cause sub constantly we know the sun's coming\nWe love the winter 'cause we know the summers coming\n\nRemember I got locked the same night my son was coming\nAll I could do is pray that they don't take me away\nAnd Lord knows I have the angel's on my side\nThey search the car, I had the hammer in my ride\n\nA miracle on flat bush avenue\nI still made it back to say push when she was having you\nA newer version, a younger me\nI want him to go to school and raise him up gun free\n\nI swear some places I don't want him to be\nAnd I swear some things I don't want him to see\nBut new booty, daddy loves you truly\nSo the nights you don't see me, you know daddy's on his duty\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nWhat's a poor man's pickle? Survive threw the poor\nPull a truck upfront and drive threw the store\nHad to be a felon, hated being proper\nRead the book of life and satin was the author\n\nStill I was the colperate rather be in rikers\nThe bugger had my baby momma running threw them diapers\nAll for that shitting and all them pampers\nGrandma layed up with all of that cancer\n\nLid paint flaking constantly chipping\nMama with that dark rum constantly sipping\nI vow to my name a bad transmission\nFor getting in the game that's a bad transition\n\nOne flick, one night I'm ally ally outsin' free\nFor getting you a place with a G\nA couple heavy shots I'ma newer man ready\nGo and get paper the hustler with the confetti, I'm ready\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nI can truly understand\nHow life can drain all the passion from a man\nWith just one chance it can change his circumstance\nAnd get that money, baby, get that money, babe\nLet's get this money, baby, yeah\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rain (Feat. Noe, Rell, Starr)\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: Pray IV Reign\n  duration_ms: 332787\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  You couldn't understand how much the pain weight\n  So in the hood we love the rainy days\n  'Cause sub constantly we know the sun's coming\n  We love the winter 'cause we know the summers coming\n\n  Remember I got locked the same night my son was coming\n  All I could do is pray that they don't take me away\n  And Lord knows I have the angel's on my side\n  They search the car, I had the hammer in my ride\n\n  A miracle on flat bush avenue\n  I still made it back to say push when she was having you\n  A newer version, a younger me\n  I want him to go to school and raise him up gun free\n\n  I swear some places I don't want him to be\n  And I swear some things I don't want him to see\n  But new booty, daddy loves you truly\n  So the nights you don't see me, you know daddy's on his duty\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  What's a poor man's pickle? Survive threw the poor\n  Pull a truck upfront and drive threw the store\n  Had to be a felon, hated being proper\n  Read the book of life and satin was the author\n\n  Still I was the colperate rather be in rikers\n  The bugger had my baby momma running threw them diapers\n  All for that shitting and all them pampers\n  Grandma layed up with all of that cancer\n\n  Lid paint flaking constantly chipping\n  Mama with that dark rum constantly sipping\n  I vow to my name a bad transmission\n  For getting in the game that's a bad transition\n\n  One flick, one night I'm ally ally outsin' free\n  For getting you a place with a G\n  A couple heavy shots I'ma newer man ready\n  Go and get paper the hustler with the confetti, I'm ready\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  I can truly understand\n  How life can drain all the passion from a man\n  With just one chance it can change his circumstance\n  And get that money, baby, get that money, babe\n  Let's get this money, baby, yeah\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n"},{"id":13101683,"name":"Pity in the Summer feat. Cam’ron, Marc Scibilia, RAIN, Fred The Godson","trackName":"Pity in the Summer feat. Cam’ron, Marc Scibilia, RAIN, Fred The Godson","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"El Capo (Deluxe)","duration":252.2644992,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"New York's pretty pity in the summer\nRotten Apple, baby\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\n(Heatmakerz, crack music)\nOn my sundresses and cocaine\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nMight score out here\nNow that I really wish I could stay\nYa heard me?\n\nUh, uh\nWith all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\nI treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\nBlindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\nDid fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\nA one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\nI call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\nI buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\nSet a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n'Specially in the summer with a sundress\nA forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\nPussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\nThink about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\nUh, shit'll make your soul move\nFeed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\nTurn a hot boy into a cold dude\nStill dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay\n\nI ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\nMe and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\nThe coupe, it cost, the roof is off\nSee inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\nWhy you mad? You knew we flossed\nDrip hard, stupid sauce\nNeiman Marcus, Louis Force\nFuck you, truly yours\nI knew D-Firm, the real on it\nHenny up for Kenny Hutch\nYeah, that's on my moms, bitch\nDon't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\nKing and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\nCall some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\nMe and Big Meech really had bottle wars\nGettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\nGettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\nButter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\nFlip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nCamera saw what your crew made\nNow they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\nI'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\nHad a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\nIce in my crucifix, fat man fly\n'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\nGot half the block combin' for a half a block\nI'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\nThis junkie know I'm affiliated\nHad his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\nThey see me spittin' and they feel he made it\nSo the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\nThe Cream still a favorite\nMy eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\nIf you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\nThat's how I go, nothin' to play with\nNew York, nigga\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Pity in the Summer feat. Cam’ron, Marc Scibilia, RAIN, Fred The Godson\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: El Capo (Deluxe)\n  duration_ms: 252264\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  Rotten Apple, baby\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  On my sundresses and cocaine\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Might score out here\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n  Ya heard me?\n\n  Uh, uh\n  With all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\n  I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  I buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\n  Set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n  'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n  A forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\n  Pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\n  Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\n  Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n\n  I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  Why you mad? You knew we flossed\n  Drip hard, stupid sauce\n  Neiman Marcus, Louis Force\n  Fuck you, truly yours\n  I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  Henny up for Kenny Hutch\n  Yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n  Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  Gettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\n  Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  Flip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  Camera saw what your crew made\n  Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  I'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\n  Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n  Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n  This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  The Cream still a favorite\n  My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  That's how I go, nothin' to play with\n  New York, nigga\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n"},{"id":12295426,"name":"Pity in the Summer (feat. Cam'Ron, Fred The Godson, Marc Scibilia & RAIN)","trackName":"Pity in the Summer (feat. Cam'Ron, Fred The Godson, Marc Scibilia & RAIN)","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"El Capo","duration":252.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"New York's pretty pity in the summer\nRotten Apple, baby\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\n(Heatmakerz, crack music)\nOn my sundresses and cocaine\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nMight score out here\nNow that I really wish I could stay\nYa heard me?\n\nUh, uh\nWith all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\nI treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\nBlindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\nDid fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\nA one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\nI call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\nI buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\nSet a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n'Specially in the summer with a sundress\nA forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\nPussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\nThink about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\nUh, shit'll make your soul move\nFeed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\nTurn a hot boy into a cold dude\nStill dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay\n\nI ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\nMe and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\nThe coupe, it cost, the roof is off\nSee inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\nWhy you mad? You knew we flossed\nDrip hard, stupid sauce\nNeiman Marcus, Louis Force\nFuck you, truly yours\nI knew D-Firm, the real on it\nHenny up for Kenny Hutch\nYeah, that's on my moms, bitch\nDon't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\nKing and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\nCall some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\nMe and Big Meech really had bottle wars\nGettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\nGettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\nButter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\nFlip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nCamera saw what your crew made\nNow they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\nI'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\nHad a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\nIce in my crucifix, fat man fly\n'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\nGot half the block combin' for a half a block\nI'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\nThis junkie know I'm affiliated\nHad his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\nThey see me spittin' and they feel he made it\nSo the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\nThe Cream still a favorite\nMy eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\nIf you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\nThat's how I go, nothin' to play with\nNew York, nigga\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Pity in the Summer (feat. Cam'Ron, Fred The Godson, Marc Scibilia & RAIN)\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: El Capo\n  duration_ms: 252000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  Rotten Apple, baby\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  On my sundresses and cocaine\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Might score out here\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n  Ya heard me?\n\n  Uh, uh\n  With all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\n  I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  I buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\n  Set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n  'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n  A forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\n  Pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\n  Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\n  Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n\n  I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  Why you mad? You knew we flossed\n  Drip hard, stupid sauce\n  Neiman Marcus, Louis Force\n  Fuck you, truly yours\n  I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  Henny up for Kenny Hutch\n  Yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n  Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  Gettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\n  Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  Flip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  Camera saw what your crew made\n  Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  I'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\n  Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n  Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n  This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  The Cream still a favorite\n  My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  That's how I go, nothin' to play with\n  New York, nigga\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n"},{"id":28157713,"name":"Pity in the Summer (feat. Cam'ron, Rain, Fred The Godson & Marc Scibilia)","trackName":"Pity in the Summer (feat. Cam'ron, Rain, Fred The Godson & Marc Scibilia)","artistName":"Jim Jones","albumName":"El Capo","duration":252.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"New York's pretty pity in the summer (Rotten Apple, baby)\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain (Heatmakerz, crack music)\nOn my sundresses and cocaine\nFlyin' into one coast and the other (might score out here)\nNow that I really wish I could stay (ya heard me? Uh, uh)\n\nWith all my efforts is so effortless (like)\nI treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\nBlindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\nDid fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\nA one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\nI call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\nI buy a burner phone just so I could text her\n(He gone) set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (silly)\n\n'Specially in the summer with a sundress\nA forty-five'll make a grown man undress\n(Get naked) pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (boom)\nThink about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\nUh, shit'll make your soul move\nFeed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food, yeah\nTurn a hot boy into a cold dude\nStill dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\n(They all really be lying and shit)\nNow that I really wish I could stay\n(Bet we sad that it happened)\n(Uh, let me tell you about it)\n\nI ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\nMe and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\nThe coupe, it cost, the roof is off\nSee inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\nWhy you mad? You knew we flossed, drip hard, stupid sauce\nNeiman Marcus, Louis Force, fuck you, truly yours\nI knew D-Firm, the real on it\nHenny up for Kenny Hutch, yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n\nDon't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\nKing and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\nCall some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\nMe and Big Meech really had bottle wars\nGettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\nGettin' money, you can say shit like, \"Swallow, whore\"\nButter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\nFlip a pack, took some L's every time I get it back\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other (uh-uh)\nNow that I really wish I could stay (shit)\n\nCamera saw what your crew made\nNow they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\nI'll grant 'em all for 30 grams of raw\nHad a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\nIce in my crucifix, fat man fly\n'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\nGot half the block combin' for a half a block\nI'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n\nThis junkie know I'm affiliated\nHad his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\nThey see me spittin' and they feel he made it\nSo the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\nThe Cream still a favorite\nMy eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\nIf you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\nThat's how I go, nothin' to play with New York, nigga\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.08] New York's pretty pity in the summer (Rotten Apple, baby)\n[00:05.33] And it ain't no pity in the rain (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n[00:08.53] On my sundresses and cocaine\n[00:10.48] Flyin' into one coast and the other (might score out here)\n[00:15.76] Now that I really wish I could stay (ya heard me? Uh, uh)\n[00:22.22] With all my efforts is so effortless (like)\n[00:24.17] I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n[00:26.52] Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n[00:29.56] Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n[00:32.10] A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n[00:34.97] I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n[00:37.73] I buy a burner phone just so I could text her\n[00:39.66] (He gone) set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (silly)\n[00:43.16] 'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n[00:45.51] A forty-five'll make a grown man undress\n[00:47.99] (Get naked) pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (boom)\n[00:50.83] Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n[00:53.62] Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n[00:56.07] Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food, yeah\n[00:59.32] Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n[01:01.33] Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n[01:04.24] Uh, what's up, what's up?\n[01:06.33] Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n[01:08.89] We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n[01:11.69] Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n[01:14.59] New York's pretty pity in the summer\n[01:19.96] And it ain't no pity in the rain\n[01:25.16] Flyin' into one coast and the other\n[01:28.53] (They all really be lying and shit)\n[01:30.34] Now that I really wish I could stay\n[01:32.14] (Bet we sad that it happened)\n[01:33.43] (Uh, let me tell you about it)\n[01:36.27] I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n[01:38.58] Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n[01:41.80] The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n[01:44.34] See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n[01:46.70] Why you mad? You knew we flossed, drip hard, stupid sauce\n[01:49.27] Neiman Marcus, Louis Force, fuck you, truly yours\n[01:52.26] I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n[01:54.77] Henny up for Kenny Hutch, yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n[01:57.47] Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n[02:00.13] King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n[02:02.90] Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n[02:06.03] Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n[02:08.20] Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n[02:10.72] Gettin' money, you can say shit like, \"Swallow, whore\"\n[02:13.53] Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n[02:15.84] Flip a pack, took some L's every time I get it back\n[02:18.84] Uh, what's up, what's up?\n[02:21.01] Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n[02:23.46] We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n[02:26.38] Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n[02:29.17] New York's pretty pity in the summer\n[02:34.59] And it ain't no pity in the rain\n[02:39.77] Flyin' into one coast and the other (uh-uh)\n[02:45.15] Now that I really wish I could stay (shit)\n[02:51.48] Camera saw what your crew made\n[02:53.24] Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n[02:56.02] I'll grant 'em all for 30 grams of raw\n[02:58.12] Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n[03:01.48] Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n[03:03.47] 'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n[03:06.14] Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n[03:08.86] I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n[03:11.95] This junkie know I'm affiliated\n[03:14.04] Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n[03:17.30] They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n[03:19.16] So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n[03:22.61] The Cream still a favorite\n[03:24.07] My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n[03:27.53] If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n[03:30.48] That's how I go, nothin' to play with New York, nigga\n[03:33.51] Uh, what's up, what's up?\n[03:35.54] Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n[03:38.22] We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n[03:40.71] Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n[03:43.96] New York's pretty pity in the summer\n[03:49.06] And it ain't no pity in the rain\n[03:54.45] Flyin' into one coast and the other\n[03:59.71] Now that I really wish I could stay\n[04:04.17] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Pity in the Summer (feat. Cam'ron, Rain, Fred The Godson & Marc Scibilia)\n  artist: Jim Jones\n  album: El Capo\n  duration_ms: 252000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer (Rotten Apple, baby)\n  start_ms: 80\n  end_ms: 5330\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  start_ms: 5330\n  end_ms: 8530\n- text: On my sundresses and cocaine\n  start_ms: 8530\n  end_ms: 10480\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other (might score out here)\n  start_ms: 10480\n  end_ms: 15760\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay (ya heard me? Uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 15760\n  end_ms: 22220\n- text: With all my efforts is so effortless (like)\n  start_ms: 22220\n  end_ms: 24170\n- text: I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  start_ms: 24170\n  end_ms: 26520\n- text: Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  start_ms: 26520\n  end_ms: 29560\n- text: Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  start_ms: 29560\n  end_ms: 32100\n- text: A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  start_ms: 32100\n  end_ms: 34970\n- text: I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  start_ms: 34970\n  end_ms: 37730\n- text: I buy a burner phone just so I could text her\n  start_ms: 37730\n  end_ms: 39660\n- text: (He gone) set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (silly)\n  start_ms: 39660\n  end_ms: 43160\n- text: '''Specially in the summer with a sundress'\n  start_ms: 43160\n  end_ms: 45510\n- text: A forty-five'll make a grown man undress\n  start_ms: 45510\n  end_ms: 47990\n- text: (Get naked) pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (boom)\n  start_ms: 47990\n  end_ms: 50830\n- text: Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  start_ms: 50830\n  end_ms: 53620\n- text: Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  start_ms: 53620\n  end_ms: 56070\n- text: Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food, yeah\n  start_ms: 56070\n  end_ms: 59320\n- text: Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  start_ms: 59320\n  end_ms: 61330\n- text: Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n  start_ms: 61330\n  end_ms: 64240\n- text: Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 64240\n  end_ms: 66330\n- text: Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 66330\n  end_ms: 68890\n- text: We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  start_ms: 68890\n  end_ms: 71690\n- text: Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n  start_ms: 71690\n  end_ms: 74590\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  start_ms: 74590\n  end_ms: 79960\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  start_ms: 79960\n  end_ms: 85160\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  start_ms: 85160\n  end_ms: 88530\n- text: (They all really be lying and shit)\n  start_ms: 88530\n  end_ms: 90340\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay\n  start_ms: 90340\n  end_ms: 92140\n- text: (Bet we sad that it happened)\n  start_ms: 92140\n  end_ms: 93430\n- text: (Uh, let me tell you about it)\n  start_ms: 93430\n  end_ms: 96270\n- text: I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  start_ms: 96270\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 101800\n- text: The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  start_ms: 101800\n  end_ms: 104340\n- text: See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  start_ms: 104340\n  end_ms: 106700\n- text: Why you mad? You knew we flossed, drip hard, stupid sauce\n  start_ms: 106700\n  end_ms: 109270\n- text: Neiman Marcus, Louis Force, fuck you, truly yours\n  start_ms: 109270\n  end_ms: 112260\n- text: I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  start_ms: 112260\n  end_ms: 114770\n- text: Henny up for Kenny Hutch, yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n  start_ms: 114770\n  end_ms: 117470\n- text: Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  start_ms: 117470\n  end_ms: 120130\n- text: King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  start_ms: 120130\n  end_ms: 122900\n- text: Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  start_ms: 122900\n  end_ms: 126030\n- text: Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  start_ms: 126030\n  end_ms: 128200\n- text: Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  start_ms: 128200\n  end_ms: 130720\n- text: Gettin' money, you can say shit like, \"Swallow, whore\"\n  start_ms: 130720\n  end_ms: 133530\n- text: Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  start_ms: 133530\n  end_ms: 135840\n- text: Flip a pack, took some L's every time I get it back\n  start_ms: 135840\n  end_ms: 138840\n- text: Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 138840\n  end_ms: 141010\n- text: Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 141010\n  end_ms: 143460\n- text: We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  start_ms: 143460\n  end_ms: 146380\n- text: Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n  start_ms: 146380\n  end_ms: 149170\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  start_ms: 149170\n  end_ms: 154590\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  start_ms: 154590\n  end_ms: 159770\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other (uh-uh)\n  start_ms: 159770\n  end_ms: 165150\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay (shit)\n  start_ms: 165150\n  end_ms: 171480\n- text: Camera saw what your crew made\n  start_ms: 171480\n  end_ms: 173240\n- text: Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  start_ms: 173240\n  end_ms: 176020\n- text: I'll grant 'em all for 30 grams of raw\n  start_ms: 176020\n  end_ms: 178120\n- text: Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  start_ms: 178120\n  end_ms: 181480\n- text: Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  start_ms: 181480\n  end_ms: 183470\n- text: '''Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside'\n  start_ms: 183470\n  end_ms: 186140\n- text: Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  start_ms: 186140\n  end_ms: 188860\n- text: I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n  start_ms: 188860\n  end_ms: 191950\n- text: This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  start_ms: 191950\n  end_ms: 194040\n- text: Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  start_ms: 194040\n  end_ms: 197300\n- text: They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  start_ms: 197300\n  end_ms: 199160\n- text: So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  start_ms: 199160\n  end_ms: 202610\n- text: The Cream still a favorite\n  start_ms: 202610\n  end_ms: 204070\n- text: My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  start_ms: 204070\n  end_ms: 207530\n- text: If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  start_ms: 207530\n  end_ms: 210480\n- text: That's how I go, nothin' to play with New York, nigga\n  start_ms: 210480\n  end_ms: 213510\n- text: Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 213510\n  end_ms: 215540\n- text: Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 215540\n  end_ms: 218220\n- text: We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  start_ms: 218220\n  end_ms: 220710\n- text: Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n  start_ms: 220710\n  end_ms: 223960\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  start_ms: 223960\n  end_ms: 229060\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  start_ms: 229060\n  end_ms: 234450\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  start_ms: 234450\n  end_ms: 239710\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay\n  start_ms: 239710\n  end_ms: 244170\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 244170\nplain: |-\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer (Rotten Apple, baby)\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  On my sundresses and cocaine\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other (might score out here)\n  Now that I really wish I could stay (ya heard me? Uh, uh)\n\n  With all my efforts is so effortless (like)\n  I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  I buy a burner phone just so I could text her\n  (He gone) set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (silly)\n\n  'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n  A forty-five'll make a grown man undress\n  (Get naked) pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (boom)\n  Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food, yeah\n  Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  (They all really be lying and shit)\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n  (Bet we sad that it happened)\n  (Uh, let me tell you about it)\n\n  I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  Why you mad? You knew we flossed, drip hard, stupid sauce\n  Neiman Marcus, Louis Force, fuck you, truly yours\n  I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  Henny up for Kenny Hutch, yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n\n  Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  Gettin' money, you can say shit like, \"Swallow, whore\"\n  Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  Flip a pack, took some L's every time I get it back\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other (uh-uh)\n  Now that I really wish I could stay (shit)\n\n  Camera saw what your crew made\n  Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  I'll grant 'em all for 30 grams of raw\n  Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n  Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n\n  This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  The Cream still a favorite\n  My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  That's how I go, nothin' to play with New York, nigga\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n"},{"id":14091758,"name":"Rain","trackName":"Rain","artistName":"Jim Jones feat. Hell Rell, NOE & Starr","albumName":"Pray IV Reign","duration":333.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nYou couldn't understand how much the pain weight\nSo in the hood we love the rainy days\n'Cause sub constantly we know the sun's coming\nWe love the winter 'cause we know the summers coming\n\nRemember I got locked the same night my son was coming\nAll I could do is pray that they don't take me away\nAnd Lord knows I have the angel's on my side\nThey search the car, I had the hammer in my ride\n\nA miracle on flat bush avenue\nI still made it back to say push when she was having you\nA newer version, a younger me\nI want him to go to school and raise him up gun free\n\nI swear some places I don't want him to be\nAnd I swear some things I don't want him to see\nBut new booty, daddy loves you truly\nSo the nights you don't see me, you know daddy's on his duty\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nWhat's a poor man's pickle? Survive threw the poor\nPull a truck upfront and drive threw the store\nHad to be a felon, hated being proper\nRead the book of life and satin was the author\n\nStill I was the colperate rather be in rikers\nThe bugger had my baby momma running threw them diapers\nAll for that shitting and all them pampers\nGrandma layed up with all of that cancer\n\nLid paint flaking constantly chipping\nMama with that dark rum constantly sipping\nI vow to my name a bad transmission\nFor getting in the game that's a bad transition\n\nOne flick, one night I'm ally ally outsin' free\nFor getting you a place with a G\nA couple heavy shots I'ma newer man ready\nGo and get paper the hustler with the confetti, I'm ready\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nI can truly understand\nHow life can drain all the passion from a man\nWith just one chance it can change his circumstance\nAnd get that money, baby, get that money, babe\nLet's get this money, baby, yeah\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rain\n  artist: Jim Jones feat. Hell Rell, NOE & Starr\n  album: Pray IV Reign\n  duration_ms: 333000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  You couldn't understand how much the pain weight\n  So in the hood we love the rainy days\n  'Cause sub constantly we know the sun's coming\n  We love the winter 'cause we know the summers coming\n\n  Remember I got locked the same night my son was coming\n  All I could do is pray that they don't take me away\n  And Lord knows I have the angel's on my side\n  They search the car, I had the hammer in my ride\n\n  A miracle on flat bush avenue\n  I still made it back to say push when she was having you\n  A newer version, a younger me\n  I want him to go to school and raise him up gun free\n\n  I swear some places I don't want him to be\n  And I swear some things I don't want him to see\n  But new booty, daddy loves you truly\n  So the nights you don't see me, you know daddy's on his duty\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  What's a poor man's pickle? Survive threw the poor\n  Pull a truck upfront and drive threw the store\n  Had to be a felon, hated being proper\n  Read the book of life and satin was the author\n\n  Still I was the colperate rather be in rikers\n  The bugger had my baby momma running threw them diapers\n  All for that shitting and all them pampers\n  Grandma layed up with all of that cancer\n\n  Lid paint flaking constantly chipping\n  Mama with that dark rum constantly sipping\n  I vow to my name a bad transmission\n  For getting in the game that's a bad transition\n\n  One flick, one night I'm ally ally outsin' free\n  For getting you a place with a G\n  A couple heavy shots I'ma newer man ready\n  Go and get paper the hustler with the confetti, I'm ready\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  I can truly understand\n  How life can drain all the passion from a man\n  With just one chance it can change his circumstance\n  And get that money, baby, get that money, babe\n  Let's get this money, baby, yeah\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n"},{"id":7158108,"name":"Rain (feat. Rell, NOE & Starr)","trackName":"Rain (feat. Rell, NOE & Starr)","artistName":"Jim Jones feat. Rell, NOE & Starr","albumName":"Pray IV Reign","duration":332.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nYou couldn't understand how much the pain weight\nSo in the hood we love the rainy days\n'Cause sub constantly we know the sun's coming\nWe love the winter 'cause we know the summers coming\n\nRemember I got locked the same night my son was coming\nAll I could do is pray that they don't take me away\nAnd Lord knows I have the angel's on my side\nThey search the car, I had the hammer in my ride\n\nA miracle on flat bush avenue\nI still made it back to say push when she was having you\nA newer version, a younger me\nI want him to go to school and raise him up gun free\n\nI swear some places I don't want him to be\nAnd I swear some things I don't want him to see\nBut new booty, daddy loves you truly\nSo the nights you don't see me, you know daddy's on his duty\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nWhat's a poor man's pickle? Survive threw the poor\nPull a truck upfront and drive threw the store\nHad to be a felon, hated being proper\nRead the book of life and satin was the author\n\nStill I was the colperate rather be in rikers\nThe bugger had my baby momma running threw them diapers\nAll for that shitting and all them pampers\nGrandma layed up with all of that cancer\n\nLid paint flaking constantly chipping\nMama with that dark rum constantly sipping\nI vow to my name a bad transmission\nFor getting in the game that's a bad transition\n\nOne flick, one night I'm ally ally outsin' free\nFor getting you a place with a G\nA couple heavy shots I'ma newer man ready\nGo and get paper the hustler with the confetti, I'm ready\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\nI can truly understand\nHow life can drain all the passion from a man\nWith just one chance it can change his circumstance\nAnd get that money, baby, get that money, babe\nLet's get this money, baby, yeah\n\nNigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\nThough it seems there's no end to this pain\nEvery time I close my eyes I pray for rain\nI pray for rain to wash away the strain","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Rain (feat. Rell, NOE & Starr)\n  artist: Jim Jones feat. Rell, NOE & Starr\n  album: Pray IV Reign\n  duration_ms: 332000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  You couldn't understand how much the pain weight\n  So in the hood we love the rainy days\n  'Cause sub constantly we know the sun's coming\n  We love the winter 'cause we know the summers coming\n\n  Remember I got locked the same night my son was coming\n  All I could do is pray that they don't take me away\n  And Lord knows I have the angel's on my side\n  They search the car, I had the hammer in my ride\n\n  A miracle on flat bush avenue\n  I still made it back to say push when she was having you\n  A newer version, a younger me\n  I want him to go to school and raise him up gun free\n\n  I swear some places I don't want him to be\n  And I swear some things I don't want him to see\n  But new booty, daddy loves you truly\n  So the nights you don't see me, you know daddy's on his duty\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  What's a poor man's pickle? Survive threw the poor\n  Pull a truck upfront and drive threw the store\n  Had to be a felon, hated being proper\n  Read the book of life and satin was the author\n\n  Still I was the colperate rather be in rikers\n  The bugger had my baby momma running threw them diapers\n  All for that shitting and all them pampers\n  Grandma layed up with all of that cancer\n\n  Lid paint flaking constantly chipping\n  Mama with that dark rum constantly sipping\n  I vow to my name a bad transmission\n  For getting in the game that's a bad transition\n\n  One flick, one night I'm ally ally outsin' free\n  For getting you a place with a G\n  A couple heavy shots I'ma newer man ready\n  Go and get paper the hustler with the confetti, I'm ready\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n\n  I can truly understand\n  How life can drain all the passion from a man\n  With just one chance it can change his circumstance\n  And get that money, baby, get that money, babe\n  Let's get this money, baby, yeah\n\n  Nigga, we too close, can't stop praying now\n  Though it seems there's no end to this pain\n  Every time I close my eyes I pray for rain\n  I pray for rain to wash away the strain\n"},{"id":6046831,"name":"Pity in the Summer (feat. Cam'ron, Rain, Fred the Godson & Marc Scibilia)","trackName":"Pity in the Summer (feat. Cam'ron, Rain, Fred the Godson & Marc Scibilia)","artistName":"Jim Jones feat. Cam'ron, Rain, Fred the Godson & Marc Scibilia","albumName":"El Capo","duration":253.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"New York's pretty pity in the summer\nRotten Apple, baby\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\n(Heatmakerz, crack music)\nOn my sundresses and cocaine\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nMight score out here\nNow that I really wish I could stay\nYa heard me?\n\nUh, uh\nWith all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\nI treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\nBlindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\nDid fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\nA one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\nI call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\nI buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\nSet a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n'Specially in the summer with a sundress\nA forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\nPussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\nThink about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\nUh, shit'll make your soul move\nFeed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\nTurn a hot boy into a cold dude\nStill dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay\n\nI ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\nMe and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\nThe coupe, it cost, the roof is off\nSee inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\nWhy you mad? You knew we flossed\nDrip hard, stupid sauce\nNeiman Marcus, Louis Force\nFuck you, truly yours\nI knew D-Firm, the real on it\nHenny up for Kenny Hutch\nYeah, that's on my moms, bitch\nDon't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\nKing and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\nCall some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\nMe and Big Meech really had bottle wars\nGettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\nGettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\nButter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\nFlip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nCamera saw what your crew made\nNow they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\nI'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\nHad a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\nIce in my crucifix, fat man fly\n'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\nGot half the block combin' for a half a block\nI'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\nThis junkie know I'm affiliated\nHad his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\nThey see me spittin' and they feel he made it\nSo the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\nThe Cream still a favorite\nMy eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\nIf you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\nThat's how I go, nothin' to play with\nNew York, nigga\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.04] New York's pretty pity in the summer (Rotten Apple, baby)\n[00:05.31] And it ain't no pity in the rain (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n[00:08.54] On my sundresses and cocaine\n[00:10.46] Flyin' into one coast and the other (might score out here)\n[00:15.75] Now that I really wish I could stay (ya heard me? Uh, uh)\n[00:22.25] With all my efforts is so effortless (like)\n[00:24.10] I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n[00:26.56] Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n[00:29.50] Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n[00:32.19] A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n[00:34.96] I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n[00:37.79] I buy a burner phone just so I could text her\n[00:39.68] (He gone) set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (silly)\n[00:43.12] 'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n[00:45.52] A forty-five'll make a grown man undress\n[00:47.97] (Get naked) pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (boom)\n[00:50.86] Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n[00:53.64] Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n[00:56.06] Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food, yeah\n[00:59.31] Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n[01:01.36] Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n[01:04.58] Uh, what's up, what's up?\n[01:06.36] Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n[01:08.85] We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n[01:11.63] Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n[01:14.54] New York's pretty pity in the summer\n[01:19.91] And it ain't no pity in the rain\n[01:25.18] Flyin' into one coast and the other\n[01:28.54] (They all really be lying and shit)\n[01:30.39] Now that I really wish I could stay\n[01:32.13] (Bet we sad that it happened)\n[01:33.48] (Uh, let me tell you about it)\n[01:36.21] I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n[01:38.56] Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n[01:41.85] The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n[01:44.36] See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n[01:46.72] Why you mad? You knew we flossed, drip hard, stupid sauce\n[01:49.25] Neiman Marcus, Louis Force, fuck you, truly yours\n[01:52.23] I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n[01:54.72] Henny up for Kenny Hutch, yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n[01:57.44] Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n[02:00.10] King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n[02:02.90] Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n[02:06.01] Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n[02:08.42] Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n[02:10.73] Gettin' money, you can say shit like, \"Swallow, whore\"\n[02:13.59] Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n[02:15.88] Flip a pack, took some L's every time I get it back\n[02:18.87] Uh, what's up, what's up?\n[02:21.05] Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n[02:23.40] We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n[02:26.33] Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n[02:29.15] New York's pretty pity in the summer\n[02:34.56] And it ain't no pity in the rain\n[02:39.79] Flyin' into one coast and the other (uh-uh)\n[02:45.18] Now that I really wish I could stay (shit)\n[02:51.40] Camera saw what your crew made\n[02:53.29] Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n[02:56.06] I'll grant 'em all for 30 grams of raw\n[02:58.14] Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n[03:01.49] Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n[03:03.49] 'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n[03:06.13] Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n[03:08.80] I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n[03:11.96] This junkie know I'm affiliated\n[03:14.09] Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n[03:17.37] They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n[03:19.19] So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n[03:22.64] The Cream still a favorite\n[03:24.00] My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n[03:27.51] If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n[03:30.49] That's how I go, nothin' to play with New York, nigga\n[03:33.51] Uh, what's up, what's up?\n[03:35.52] Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n[03:38.20] We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n[03:40.73] Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n[03:43.95] New York's pretty pity in the summer\n[03:49.00] And it ain't no pity in the rain\n[03:54.42] Flyin' into one coast and the other\n[03:59.72] Now that I really wish I could stay\n[04:12.25] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Pity in the Summer (feat. Cam'ron, Rain, Fred the Godson & Marc Scibilia)\n  artist: Jim Jones feat. Cam'ron, Rain, Fred the Godson & Marc Scibilia\n  album: El Capo\n  duration_ms: 253000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer (Rotten Apple, baby)\n  start_ms: 40\n  end_ms: 5310\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  start_ms: 5310\n  end_ms: 8540\n- text: On my sundresses and cocaine\n  start_ms: 8540\n  end_ms: 10460\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other (might score out here)\n  start_ms: 10460\n  end_ms: 15750\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay (ya heard me? Uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 15750\n  end_ms: 22250\n- text: With all my efforts is so effortless (like)\n  start_ms: 22250\n  end_ms: 24100\n- text: I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  start_ms: 24100\n  end_ms: 26560\n- text: Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  start_ms: 26560\n  end_ms: 29500\n- text: Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  start_ms: 29500\n  end_ms: 32190\n- text: A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  start_ms: 32190\n  end_ms: 34960\n- text: I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  start_ms: 34960\n  end_ms: 37790\n- text: I buy a burner phone just so I could text her\n  start_ms: 37790\n  end_ms: 39680\n- text: (He gone) set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (silly)\n  start_ms: 39680\n  end_ms: 43120\n- text: '''Specially in the summer with a sundress'\n  start_ms: 43120\n  end_ms: 45520\n- text: A forty-five'll make a grown man undress\n  start_ms: 45520\n  end_ms: 47970\n- text: (Get naked) pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (boom)\n  start_ms: 47970\n  end_ms: 50860\n- text: Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  start_ms: 50860\n  end_ms: 53640\n- text: Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  start_ms: 53640\n  end_ms: 56060\n- text: Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food, yeah\n  start_ms: 56060\n  end_ms: 59310\n- text: Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  start_ms: 59310\n  end_ms: 61360\n- text: Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n  start_ms: 61360\n  end_ms: 64580\n- text: Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 64580\n  end_ms: 66360\n- text: Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 66360\n  end_ms: 68850\n- text: We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  start_ms: 68850\n  end_ms: 71630\n- text: Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n  start_ms: 71630\n  end_ms: 74540\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  start_ms: 74540\n  end_ms: 79910\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  start_ms: 79910\n  end_ms: 85180\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  start_ms: 85180\n  end_ms: 88540\n- text: (They all really be lying and shit)\n  start_ms: 88540\n  end_ms: 90390\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay\n  start_ms: 90390\n  end_ms: 92130\n- text: (Bet we sad that it happened)\n  start_ms: 92130\n  end_ms: 93480\n- text: (Uh, let me tell you about it)\n  start_ms: 93480\n  end_ms: 96210\n- text: I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  start_ms: 96210\n  end_ms: 98560\n- text: Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  start_ms: 98560\n  end_ms: 101850\n- text: The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  start_ms: 101850\n  end_ms: 104360\n- text: See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  start_ms: 104360\n  end_ms: 106720\n- text: Why you mad? You knew we flossed, drip hard, stupid sauce\n  start_ms: 106720\n  end_ms: 109250\n- text: Neiman Marcus, Louis Force, fuck you, truly yours\n  start_ms: 109250\n  end_ms: 112230\n- text: I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  start_ms: 112230\n  end_ms: 114720\n- text: Henny up for Kenny Hutch, yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n  start_ms: 114720\n  end_ms: 117440\n- text: Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  start_ms: 117440\n  end_ms: 120100\n- text: King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  start_ms: 120100\n  end_ms: 122900\n- text: Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  start_ms: 122900\n  end_ms: 126010\n- text: Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  start_ms: 126010\n  end_ms: 128420\n- text: Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  start_ms: 128420\n  end_ms: 130730\n- text: Gettin' money, you can say shit like, \"Swallow, whore\"\n  start_ms: 130730\n  end_ms: 133590\n- text: Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  start_ms: 133590\n  end_ms: 135880\n- text: Flip a pack, took some L's every time I get it back\n  start_ms: 135880\n  end_ms: 138870\n- text: Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 138870\n  end_ms: 141050\n- text: Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 141050\n  end_ms: 143400\n- text: We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  start_ms: 143400\n  end_ms: 146330\n- text: Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n  start_ms: 146330\n  end_ms: 149150\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  start_ms: 149150\n  end_ms: 154560\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  start_ms: 154560\n  end_ms: 159790\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other (uh-uh)\n  start_ms: 159790\n  end_ms: 165180\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay (shit)\n  start_ms: 165180\n  end_ms: 171400\n- text: Camera saw what your crew made\n  start_ms: 171400\n  end_ms: 173290\n- text: Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  start_ms: 173290\n  end_ms: 176060\n- text: I'll grant 'em all for 30 grams of raw\n  start_ms: 176060\n  end_ms: 178140\n- text: Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  start_ms: 178140\n  end_ms: 181490\n- text: Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  start_ms: 181490\n  end_ms: 183490\n- text: '''Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside'\n  start_ms: 183490\n  end_ms: 186130\n- text: Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  start_ms: 186130\n  end_ms: 188800\n- text: I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n  start_ms: 188800\n  end_ms: 191960\n- text: This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  start_ms: 191960\n  end_ms: 194090\n- text: Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  start_ms: 194090\n  end_ms: 197370\n- text: They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  start_ms: 197370\n  end_ms: 199190\n- text: So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  start_ms: 199190\n  end_ms: 202640\n- text: The Cream still a favorite\n  start_ms: 202640\n  end_ms: 204000\n- text: My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  start_ms: 204000\n  end_ms: 207510\n- text: If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  start_ms: 207510\n  end_ms: 210490\n- text: That's how I go, nothin' to play with New York, nigga\n  start_ms: 210490\n  end_ms: 213510\n- text: Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 213510\n  end_ms: 215520\n- text: Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 215520\n  end_ms: 218200\n- text: We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  start_ms: 218200\n  end_ms: 220730\n- text: Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n  start_ms: 220730\n  end_ms: 223950\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  start_ms: 223950\n  end_ms: 229000\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  start_ms: 229000\n  end_ms: 234420\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  start_ms: 234420\n  end_ms: 239720\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay\n  start_ms: 239720\n  end_ms: 252250\nplain: |-\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  Rotten Apple, baby\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  On my sundresses and cocaine\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Might score out here\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n  Ya heard me?\n\n  Uh, uh\n  With all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\n  I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  I buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\n  Set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n  'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n  A forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\n  Pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\n  Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\n  Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n\n  I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  Why you mad? You knew we flossed\n  Drip hard, stupid sauce\n  Neiman Marcus, Louis Force\n  Fuck you, truly yours\n  I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  Henny up for Kenny Hutch\n  Yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n  Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  Gettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\n  Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  Flip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  Camera saw what your crew made\n  Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  I'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\n  Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n  Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n  This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  The Cream still a favorite\n  My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  That's how I go, nothin' to play with\n  New York, nigga\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n"},{"id":6046832,"name":"Pity in the Summer","trackName":"Pity in the Summer","artistName":"Jim Jones;Cam'Ron;Fred The Godson;Marc Scibilia;RAIN","albumName":"El Capo (Deluxe)","duration":253.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"New York's pretty pity in the summer\nRotten Apple, baby\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\n(Heatmakerz, crack music)\nOn my sundresses and cocaine\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nMight score out here\nNow that I really wish I could stay\nYa heard me?\n\nUh, uh\nWith all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\nI treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\nBlindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\nDid fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\nA one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\nI call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\nI buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\nSet a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n'Specially in the summer with a sundress\nA forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\nPussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\nThink about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\nUh, shit'll make your soul move\nFeed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\nTurn a hot boy into a cold dude\nStill dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay\n\nI ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\nMe and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\nThe coupe, it cost, the roof is off\nSee inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\nWhy you mad? You knew we flossed\nDrip hard, stupid sauce\nNeiman Marcus, Louis Force\nFuck you, truly yours\nI knew D-Firm, the real on it\nHenny up for Kenny Hutch\nYeah, that's on my moms, bitch\nDon't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\nKing and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\nCall some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\nMe and Big Meech really had bottle wars\nGettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\nGettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\nButter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\nFlip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nCamera saw what your crew made\nNow they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\nI'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\nHad a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\nIce in my crucifix, fat man fly\n'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\nGot half the block combin' for a half a block\nI'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\nThis junkie know I'm affiliated\nHad his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\nThey see me spittin' and they feel he made it\nSo the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\nThe Cream still a favorite\nMy eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\nIf you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\nThat's how I go, nothin' to play with\nNew York, nigga\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Pity in the Summer\n  artist: Jim Jones;Cam'Ron;Fred The Godson;Marc Scibilia;RAIN\n  album: El Capo (Deluxe)\n  duration_ms: 253000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  Rotten Apple, baby\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  On my sundresses and cocaine\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Might score out here\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n  Ya heard me?\n\n  Uh, uh\n  With all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\n  I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  I buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\n  Set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n  'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n  A forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\n  Pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\n  Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\n  Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n\n  I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  Why you mad? You knew we flossed\n  Drip hard, stupid sauce\n  Neiman Marcus, Louis Force\n  Fuck you, truly yours\n  I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  Henny up for Kenny Hutch\n  Yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n  Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  Gettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\n  Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  Flip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  Camera saw what your crew made\n  Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  I'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\n  Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n  Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n  This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  The Cream still a favorite\n  My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  That's how I go, nothin' to play with\n  New York, nigga\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n"},{"id":6049987,"name":"Pity in the Summer","trackName":"Pity in the Summer","artistName":"Jim Jones;Cam'Ron;Marc Scibilia;Rain;Fred The Godson","albumName":"El Capo","duration":253.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"New York's pretty pity in the summer\nRotten Apple, baby\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\n(Heatmakerz, crack music)\nOn my sundresses and cocaine\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nMight score out here\nNow that I really wish I could stay\nYa heard me?\n\nUh, uh\nWith all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\nI treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\nBlindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\nDid fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\nA one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\nI call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\nI buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\nSet a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n'Specially in the summer with a sundress\nA forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\nPussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\nThink about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\nUh, shit'll make your soul move\nFeed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\nTurn a hot boy into a cold dude\nStill dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay\n\nI ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\nMe and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\nThe coupe, it cost, the roof is off\nSee inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\nWhy you mad? You knew we flossed\nDrip hard, stupid sauce\nNeiman Marcus, Louis Force\nFuck you, truly yours\nI knew D-Firm, the real on it\nHenny up for Kenny Hutch\nYeah, that's on my moms, bitch\nDon't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\nKing and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\nCall some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\nMe and Big Meech really had bottle wars\nGettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\nGettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\nButter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\nFlip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nCamera saw what your crew made\nNow they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\nI'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\nHad a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\nIce in my crucifix, fat man fly\n'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\nGot half the block combin' for a half a block\nI'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\nThis junkie know I'm affiliated\nHad his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\nThey see me spittin' and they feel he made it\nSo the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\nThe Cream still a favorite\nMy eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\nIf you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\nThat's how I go, nothin' to play with\nNew York, nigga\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Pity in the Summer\n  artist: Jim Jones;Cam'Ron;Marc Scibilia;Rain;Fred The Godson\n  album: El Capo\n  duration_ms: 253000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  Rotten Apple, baby\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  On my sundresses and cocaine\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Might score out here\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n  Ya heard me?\n\n  Uh, uh\n  With all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\n  I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  I buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\n  Set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n  'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n  A forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\n  Pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\n  Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\n  Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n\n  I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  Why you mad? You knew we flossed\n  Drip hard, stupid sauce\n  Neiman Marcus, Louis Force\n  Fuck you, truly yours\n  I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  Henny up for Kenny Hutch\n  Yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n  Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  Gettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\n  Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  Flip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  Camera saw what your crew made\n  Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  I'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\n  Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n  Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n  This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  The Cream still a favorite\n  My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  That's how I go, nothin' to play with\n  New York, nigga\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n"},{"id":34996291,"name":"Pity in the Summer","trackName":"Pity in the Summer","artistName":"Jim Jones;Cam’ron;Rain;Fred the Godson;Marc Scibilia","albumName":"El Capo","duration":252.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"New York's pretty pity in the summer (Rotten Apple, baby)\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain (Heatmakerz, crack music)\nOn my sundresses and cocaine\nFlyin' into one coast and the other (might score out here)\nNow that I really wish I could stay (ya heard me? Uh, uh)\n\nWith all my efforts is so effortless (like)\nI treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\nBlindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\nDid fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\nA one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\nI call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\nI buy a burner phone just so I could text her\n(He gone) set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (silly)\n\n'Specially in the summer with a sundress\nA forty-five'll make a grown man undress\n(Get naked) pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (boom)\nThink about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\nUh, shit'll make your soul move\nFeed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food, yeah\nTurn a hot boy into a cold dude\nStill dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\n(They all really be lying and shit)\nNow that I really wish I could stay\n(Bet we sad that it happened)\n(Uh, let me tell you about it)\n\nI ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\nMe and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\nThe coupe, it cost, the roof is off\nSee inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\nWhy you mad? You knew we flossed, drip hard, stupid sauce\nNeiman Marcus, Louis Force, fuck you, truly yours\nI knew D-Firm, the real on it\nHenny up for Kenny Hutch, yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n\nDon't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\nKing and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\nCall some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\nMe and Big Meech really had bottle wars\nGettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\nGettin' money, you can say shit like, \"Swallow, whore\"\nButter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\nFlip a pack, took some L's every time I get it back\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other (uh-uh)\nNow that I really wish I could stay (shit)\n\nCamera saw what your crew made\nNow they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\nI'll grant 'em all for 30 grams of raw\nHad a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\nIce in my crucifix, fat man fly\n'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\nGot half the block combin' for a half a block\nI'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n\nThis junkie know I'm affiliated\nHad his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\nThey see me spittin' and they feel he made it\nSo the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\nThe Cream still a favorite\nMy eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\nIf you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\nThat's how I go, nothin' to play with New York, nigga\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.08] New York's pretty pity in the summer (Rotten Apple, baby)\n[00:05.33] And it ain't no pity in the rain (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n[00:08.53] On my sundresses and cocaine\n[00:10.48] Flyin' into one coast and the other (might score out here)\n[00:15.76] Now that I really wish I could stay (ya heard me? Uh, uh)\n[00:22.22] With all my efforts is so effortless (like)\n[00:24.17] I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n[00:26.52] Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n[00:29.56] Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n[00:32.10] A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n[00:34.97] I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n[00:37.73] I buy a burner phone just so I could text her\n[00:39.66] (He gone) set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (silly)\n[00:43.16] 'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n[00:45.51] A forty-five'll make a grown man undress\n[00:47.99] (Get naked) pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (boom)\n[00:50.83] Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n[00:53.62] Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n[00:56.07] Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food, yeah\n[00:59.32] Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n[01:01.33] Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n[01:04.24] Uh, what's up, what's up?\n[01:06.33] Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n[01:08.89] We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n[01:11.69] Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n[01:14.59] New York's pretty pity in the summer\n[01:19.96] And it ain't no pity in the rain\n[01:25.16] Flyin' into one coast and the other\n[01:28.53] (They all really be lying and shit)\n[01:30.34] Now that I really wish I could stay\n[01:32.14] (Bet we sad that it happened)\n[01:33.43] (Uh, let me tell you about it)\n[01:36.27] I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n[01:38.58] Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n[01:41.80] The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n[01:44.34] See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n[01:46.70] Why you mad? You knew we flossed, drip hard, stupid sauce\n[01:49.27] Neiman Marcus, Louis Force, fuck you, truly yours\n[01:52.26] I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n[01:54.77] Henny up for Kenny Hutch, yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n[01:57.47] Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n[02:00.13] King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n[02:02.90] Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n[02:06.03] Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n[02:08.20] Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n[02:10.72] Gettin' money, you can say shit like, \"Swallow, whore\"\n[02:13.53] Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n[02:15.84] Flip a pack, took some L's every time I get it back\n[02:18.84] Uh, what's up, what's up?\n[02:21.01] Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n[02:23.46] We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n[02:26.38] Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n[02:29.17] New York's pretty pity in the summer\n[02:34.59] And it ain't no pity in the rain\n[02:39.77] Flyin' into one coast and the other (uh-uh)\n[02:45.15] Now that I really wish I could stay (shit)\n[02:51.48] Camera saw what your crew made\n[02:53.24] Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n[02:56.02] I'll grant 'em all for 30 grams of raw\n[02:58.12] Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n[03:01.48] Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n[03:03.47] 'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n[03:06.14] Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n[03:08.86] I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n[03:11.95] This junkie know I'm affiliated\n[03:14.04] Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n[03:17.30] They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n[03:19.16] So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n[03:22.61] The Cream still a favorite\n[03:24.07] My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n[03:27.53] If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n[03:30.48] That's how I go, nothin' to play with New York, nigga\n[03:33.51] Uh, what's up, what's up?\n[03:35.54] Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n[03:38.22] We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n[03:40.71] Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n[03:43.96] New York's pretty pity in the summer\n[03:49.06] And it ain't no pity in the rain\n[03:54.45] Flyin' into one coast and the other\n[03:59.71] Now that I really wish I could stay\n[04:04.17] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Pity in the Summer\n  artist: Jim Jones;Cam’ron;Rain;Fred the Godson;Marc Scibilia\n  album: El Capo\n  duration_ms: 252000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer (Rotten Apple, baby)\n  start_ms: 80\n  end_ms: 5330\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  start_ms: 5330\n  end_ms: 8530\n- text: On my sundresses and cocaine\n  start_ms: 8530\n  end_ms: 10480\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other (might score out here)\n  start_ms: 10480\n  end_ms: 15760\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay (ya heard me? Uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 15760\n  end_ms: 22220\n- text: With all my efforts is so effortless (like)\n  start_ms: 22220\n  end_ms: 24170\n- text: I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  start_ms: 24170\n  end_ms: 26520\n- text: Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  start_ms: 26520\n  end_ms: 29560\n- text: Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  start_ms: 29560\n  end_ms: 32100\n- text: A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  start_ms: 32100\n  end_ms: 34970\n- text: I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  start_ms: 34970\n  end_ms: 37730\n- text: I buy a burner phone just so I could text her\n  start_ms: 37730\n  end_ms: 39660\n- text: (He gone) set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (silly)\n  start_ms: 39660\n  end_ms: 43160\n- text: '''Specially in the summer with a sundress'\n  start_ms: 43160\n  end_ms: 45510\n- text: A forty-five'll make a grown man undress\n  start_ms: 45510\n  end_ms: 47990\n- text: (Get naked) pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (boom)\n  start_ms: 47990\n  end_ms: 50830\n- text: Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  start_ms: 50830\n  end_ms: 53620\n- text: Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  start_ms: 53620\n  end_ms: 56070\n- text: Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food, yeah\n  start_ms: 56070\n  end_ms: 59320\n- text: Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  start_ms: 59320\n  end_ms: 61330\n- text: Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n  start_ms: 61330\n  end_ms: 64240\n- text: Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 64240\n  end_ms: 66330\n- text: Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 66330\n  end_ms: 68890\n- text: We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  start_ms: 68890\n  end_ms: 71690\n- text: Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n  start_ms: 71690\n  end_ms: 74590\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  start_ms: 74590\n  end_ms: 79960\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  start_ms: 79960\n  end_ms: 85160\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  start_ms: 85160\n  end_ms: 88530\n- text: (They all really be lying and shit)\n  start_ms: 88530\n  end_ms: 90340\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay\n  start_ms: 90340\n  end_ms: 92140\n- text: (Bet we sad that it happened)\n  start_ms: 92140\n  end_ms: 93430\n- text: (Uh, let me tell you about it)\n  start_ms: 93430\n  end_ms: 96270\n- text: I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  start_ms: 96270\n  end_ms: 98580\n- text: Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  start_ms: 98580\n  end_ms: 101800\n- text: The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  start_ms: 101800\n  end_ms: 104340\n- text: See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  start_ms: 104340\n  end_ms: 106700\n- text: Why you mad? You knew we flossed, drip hard, stupid sauce\n  start_ms: 106700\n  end_ms: 109270\n- text: Neiman Marcus, Louis Force, fuck you, truly yours\n  start_ms: 109270\n  end_ms: 112260\n- text: I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  start_ms: 112260\n  end_ms: 114770\n- text: Henny up for Kenny Hutch, yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n  start_ms: 114770\n  end_ms: 117470\n- text: Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  start_ms: 117470\n  end_ms: 120130\n- text: King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  start_ms: 120130\n  end_ms: 122900\n- text: Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  start_ms: 122900\n  end_ms: 126030\n- text: Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  start_ms: 126030\n  end_ms: 128200\n- text: Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  start_ms: 128200\n  end_ms: 130720\n- text: Gettin' money, you can say shit like, \"Swallow, whore\"\n  start_ms: 130720\n  end_ms: 133530\n- text: Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  start_ms: 133530\n  end_ms: 135840\n- text: Flip a pack, took some L's every time I get it back\n  start_ms: 135840\n  end_ms: 138840\n- text: Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 138840\n  end_ms: 141010\n- text: Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 141010\n  end_ms: 143460\n- text: We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  start_ms: 143460\n  end_ms: 146380\n- text: Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n  start_ms: 146380\n  end_ms: 149170\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  start_ms: 149170\n  end_ms: 154590\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  start_ms: 154590\n  end_ms: 159770\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other (uh-uh)\n  start_ms: 159770\n  end_ms: 165150\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay (shit)\n  start_ms: 165150\n  end_ms: 171480\n- text: Camera saw what your crew made\n  start_ms: 171480\n  end_ms: 173240\n- text: Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  start_ms: 173240\n  end_ms: 176020\n- text: I'll grant 'em all for 30 grams of raw\n  start_ms: 176020\n  end_ms: 178120\n- text: Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  start_ms: 178120\n  end_ms: 181480\n- text: Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  start_ms: 181480\n  end_ms: 183470\n- text: '''Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside'\n  start_ms: 183470\n  end_ms: 186140\n- text: Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  start_ms: 186140\n  end_ms: 188860\n- text: I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n  start_ms: 188860\n  end_ms: 191950\n- text: This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  start_ms: 191950\n  end_ms: 194040\n- text: Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  start_ms: 194040\n  end_ms: 197300\n- text: They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  start_ms: 197300\n  end_ms: 199160\n- text: So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  start_ms: 199160\n  end_ms: 202610\n- text: The Cream still a favorite\n  start_ms: 202610\n  end_ms: 204070\n- text: My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  start_ms: 204070\n  end_ms: 207530\n- text: If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  start_ms: 207530\n  end_ms: 210480\n- text: That's how I go, nothin' to play with New York, nigga\n  start_ms: 210480\n  end_ms: 213510\n- text: Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 213510\n  end_ms: 215540\n- text: Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  start_ms: 215540\n  end_ms: 218220\n- text: We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  start_ms: 218220\n  end_ms: 220710\n- text: Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n  start_ms: 220710\n  end_ms: 223960\n- text: New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  start_ms: 223960\n  end_ms: 229060\n- text: And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  start_ms: 229060\n  end_ms: 234450\n- text: Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  start_ms: 234450\n  end_ms: 239710\n- text: Now that I really wish I could stay\n  start_ms: 239710\n  end_ms: 244170\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 244170\nplain: |-\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer (Rotten Apple, baby)\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  On my sundresses and cocaine\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other (might score out here)\n  Now that I really wish I could stay (ya heard me? Uh, uh)\n\n  With all my efforts is so effortless (like)\n  I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  I buy a burner phone just so I could text her\n  (He gone) set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (silly)\n\n  'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n  A forty-five'll make a grown man undress\n  (Get naked) pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (boom)\n  Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food, yeah\n  Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  (They all really be lying and shit)\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n  (Bet we sad that it happened)\n  (Uh, let me tell you about it)\n\n  I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  Why you mad? You knew we flossed, drip hard, stupid sauce\n  Neiman Marcus, Louis Force, fuck you, truly yours\n  I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  Henny up for Kenny Hutch, yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n\n  Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  Gettin' money, you can say shit like, \"Swallow, whore\"\n  Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  Flip a pack, took some L's every time I get it back\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other (uh-uh)\n  Now that I really wish I could stay (shit)\n\n  Camera saw what your crew made\n  Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  I'll grant 'em all for 30 grams of raw\n  Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n  Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n\n  This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  The Cream still a favorite\n  My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  That's how I go, nothin' to play with New York, nigga\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n"},{"id":10563876,"name":"Pity in the Summer","trackName":"Pity in the Summer","artistName":"Jim Jones feat. Cam’ron, Fred the Godson, Marc Scibilia & Rain","albumName":"El Capo","duration":252.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"New York's pretty pity in the summer\nRotten Apple, baby\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\n(Heatmakerz, crack music)\nOn my sundresses and cocaine\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nMight score out here\nNow that I really wish I could stay\nYa heard me?\n\nUh, uh\nWith all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\nI treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\nBlindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\nDid fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\nA one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\nI call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\nI buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\nSet a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n'Specially in the summer with a sundress\nA forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\nPussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\nThink about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\nUh, shit'll make your soul move\nFeed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\nTurn a hot boy into a cold dude\nStill dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay\n\nI ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\nMe and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\nThe coupe, it cost, the roof is off\nSee inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\nWhy you mad? You knew we flossed\nDrip hard, stupid sauce\nNeiman Marcus, Louis Force\nFuck you, truly yours\nI knew D-Firm, the real on it\nHenny up for Kenny Hutch\nYeah, that's on my moms, bitch\nDon't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\nKing and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\nCall some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\nMe and Big Meech really had bottle wars\nGettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\nGettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\nButter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\nFlip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nCamera saw what your crew made\nNow they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\nI'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\nHad a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\nIce in my crucifix, fat man fly\n'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\nGot half the block combin' for a half a block\nI'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\nThis junkie know I'm affiliated\nHad his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\nThey see me spittin' and they feel he made it\nSo the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\nThe Cream still a favorite\nMy eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\nIf you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\nThat's how I go, nothin' to play with\nNew York, nigga\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Pity in the Summer\n  artist: Jim Jones feat. Cam’ron, Fred the Godson, Marc Scibilia & Rain\n  album: El Capo\n  duration_ms: 252000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  Rotten Apple, baby\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  On my sundresses and cocaine\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Might score out here\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n  Ya heard me?\n\n  Uh, uh\n  With all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\n  I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  I buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\n  Set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n  'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n  A forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\n  Pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\n  Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\n  Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n\n  I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  Why you mad? You knew we flossed\n  Drip hard, stupid sauce\n  Neiman Marcus, Louis Force\n  Fuck you, truly yours\n  I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  Henny up for Kenny Hutch\n  Yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n  Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  Gettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\n  Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  Flip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  Camera saw what your crew made\n  Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  I'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\n  Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n  Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n  This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  The Cream still a favorite\n  My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  That's how I go, nothin' to play with\n  New York, nigga\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n"},{"id":9693891,"name":"Pity in the Summer","trackName":"Pity in the Summer","artistName":"Jim Jones feat. Cam’ron, Rain, Fred the Godson & Marc Scibilia","albumName":"El Capo","duration":252.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"New York's pretty pity in the summer\nRotten Apple, baby\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\n(Heatmakerz, crack music)\nOn my sundresses and cocaine\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nMight score out here\nNow that I really wish I could stay\nYa heard me?\n\nUh, uh\nWith all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\nI treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\nBlindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\nDid fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\nA one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\nI call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\nI buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\nSet a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n'Specially in the summer with a sundress\nA forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\nPussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\nThink about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\nUh, shit'll make your soul move\nFeed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\nTurn a hot boy into a cold dude\nStill dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay\n\nI ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\nMe and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\nThe coupe, it cost, the roof is off\nSee inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\nWhy you mad? You knew we flossed\nDrip hard, stupid sauce\nNeiman Marcus, Louis Force\nFuck you, truly yours\nI knew D-Firm, the real on it\nHenny up for Kenny Hutch\nYeah, that's on my moms, bitch\nDon't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\nKing and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\nCall some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\nMe and Big Meech really had bottle wars\nGettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\nGettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\nButter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\nFlip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nCamera saw what your crew made\nNow they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\nI'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\nHad a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\nIce in my crucifix, fat man fly\n'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\nGot half the block combin' for a half a block\nI'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\nThis junkie know I'm affiliated\nHad his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\nThey see me spittin' and they feel he made it\nSo the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\nThe Cream still a favorite\nMy eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\nIf you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\nThat's how I go, nothin' to play with\nNew York, nigga\n\nUh, what's up, what's up?\nReal niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\nWe in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\nBig chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\nNew York's pretty pity in the summer\nAnd it ain't no pity in the rain\nFlyin' into one coast and the other\nNow that I really wish I could stay","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Pity in the Summer\n  artist: Jim Jones feat. Cam’ron, Rain, Fred the Godson & Marc Scibilia\n  album: El Capo\n  duration_ms: 252000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  Rotten Apple, baby\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  (Heatmakerz, crack music)\n  On my sundresses and cocaine\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Might score out here\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n  Ya heard me?\n\n  Uh, uh\n  With all my efforts is so effortless (Like)\n  I treat these raps like cracks when I was cheffin' bricks\n  Blindfold me in the kitchen or anywhere next to it (I got it)\n  Did fuck your bitch, you could put an X next to it\n  A one-thirty is like a Glock with an extra clip\n  I call my bitch to make sure she got an extra bitch\n  I buy a burner phone just so I could text her (He gone)\n  Set a nigga up, they always fall for a sexy bitch (Silly)\n  'Specially in the summer with a sundress\n  A forty-five'll make a grown man undress (Get naked)\n  Pussy nigga lucky the gun jammed like SummerFest (Boom)\n  Think about yes but I'ma ten when the sun set\n  Uh, shit'll make your soul move\n  Feed a nigga bullets like he was eatin' soul food\n  Turn a hot boy into a cold dude\n  Still dancin' on Coke, shit, that's my old moves\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n\n  I ain't get a deal, you still wanna cool me off\n  Me and Jim, we woulda made a livin' smackin' coofies off\n  The coupe, it cost, the roof is off\n  See inside it, the leather baby, bootie-soft\n  Why you mad? You knew we flossed\n  Drip hard, stupid sauce\n  Neiman Marcus, Louis Force\n  Fuck you, truly yours\n  I knew D-Firm, the real on it\n  Henny up for Kenny Hutch\n  Yeah, that's on my moms, bitch\n  Don't make the don of dons turn into Don Trip\n  King and queen, you pawn, slick, stay calm, bitch\n  Call some models up, bring 'em through, let the bottles pour\n  Me and Big Meech really had bottle wars\n  Gettin' money, it don't matter what the bottom score is\n  Gettin' money, you can say shit like \"Swallow, whore\"\n  Butter-soft duffel bag, fill up mine, get a half\n  Flip a pack, took some L's, every time I get it back\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  Camera saw what your crew made\n  Now they snitchin', they Anbesol, they too fake\n  I'll grant 'em all for thirty grams of raw\n  Had a dream I met Pablo, told 'em, \"I've been a fan of yours\"\n  Ice in my crucifix, fat man fly\n  'Cause of the white, my cross fire like the Klan outside\n  Got half the block combin' for a half a block\n  I'm in an apricot foreign with Travis Scott Jordans\n  This junkie know I'm affiliated\n  Had his Oxy 80 on the table that's missin', I feel he ate it\n  They see me spittin' and they feel he made it\n  So the eagle I will fill in Philly, you feel me? I'm Philly hated\n  The Cream still a favorite\n  My eyes water up when I see my fiends rehabilitated\n  If you owe, then you still owe, nigga, the bill updated\n  That's how I go, nothin' to play with\n  New York, nigga\n\n  Uh, what's up, what's up?\n  Real niggas in the buildin', what's up, what's up?\n  We in the city poppin' wheelies with one wheel up\n  Big chains, new watches on drug dealers, huh\n\n  New York's pretty pity in the summer\n  And it ain't no pity in the rain\n  Flyin' into one coast and the other\n  Now that I really wish I could stay\n"}]