[{"id":32692292,"name":"Junior M.A.F.I.A. - Lyrical Wizardry","trackName":"Junior M.A.F.I.A. - Lyrical Wizardry","artistName":"Junior M.A.F.I.A.","albumName":"Conspiracy","duration":232.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's\nLike Murray on ecstasy\nNever flunked now motherfuckers come test me\nBurning everybody hotter than torches in Jamaican parties\nFar from angels niggas can't see me like Charlie\nStyle weak hardly\nDon't let the wack one school you like Marley\nJM click moves in packs like whiteys on Harleys\nNiggas get injured niggas throwing folded fingers\nGot blown up on bike-bops busting Glocks off of ninjas\n\nClef don't give three shits to flip scripts\nDismiss bullets from clips\nLeave niggas rolling on skateboards with nothing under they hips\nSo if you test me shit gets messy\nBusting .38 speci's out of paper bags like Joe Pesci\n\nYo you know the tune\nMake sure bitches don't eat when atomic shit out them coke balloons\nBumped up the ninja when it got shady\nNow I got grown ladies busting .380's out of E-Class Mercedes\n\nHurry the fuck up bitch get on\nLet me out this L\nThere they go right there\n\nMC's get cut like glass, cut like class\nRag tagged and crash airbags come say that shit\nWho wanna get broke the fuck up tell me\nFreaking vocabulary like Chinese in spelling bees\nT-P-E-L-K held to reflector devices\nThe nicest, Jesus Christ it's\nJunior Mafioso\n\nNiggas get torn up head to torso\nBullets evacuated out windows\nFrom Heckler and Koch P7M8's\nExtra .380 on a string around my neck cause feds check the waist\nNo time to waste grab the loot then escape\nBefore next break heads are clocking private eyes are watching\n\nNiggas caught up in the hustle\n\nNiggas flipping packages Antonovich minks and rings I bubble\nTrouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\nBiel and Bussens essence booking Pelle's in my drawers\nArmani, Gianni, Versace, V2\nLost count of all the low sections me and my mans ran through\nIt ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\nLeave them niggas screaming like a fucking retard\n\nLyrically I come off like ink alarms\nGot styles under the wing like sweaters booked under my arms\nNiggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\nTry to peep my steez like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n\nI'm fifteen what?\nI'm outta here\n\nMC's be fake like toupees\nSo I transplant implant my fist to they face\nMaking they skin raise sound waves disrupted\nThey fuck kid, air holes blood erupted\nBut that ain't nothing\n\nThe best is yet to come\nMC's get strung like heads on drums\nThey don't be knowing what I'm knowing\nFlowing like I'm flowing\nMaking motherfuckers take nosedives like 747 Boeings\nObnoxious, beef squashes face to face\n\nNiggas get wet up like galoshes on Clef's plates\nDue to hard times saying prayers committing crimes\nSick minds don't care rocking parties from front to rear\nBrains engulfed by ferocious thoughts it's on\nRunning up on big roulettes with napkins doused with chloroform\nLiving in a world where you do what you must\nIf preachers be robbing niggas who the fuck can you trust?","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Junior M.A.F.I.A. - Lyrical Wizardry\n  artist: Junior M.A.F.I.A.\n  album: Conspiracy\n  duration_ms: 232000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's\n  Like Murray on ecstasy\n  Never flunked now motherfuckers come test me\n  Burning everybody hotter than torches in Jamaican parties\n  Far from angels niggas can't see me like Charlie\n  Style weak hardly\n  Don't let the wack one school you like Marley\n  JM click moves in packs like whiteys on Harleys\n  Niggas get injured niggas throwing folded fingers\n  Got blown up on bike-bops busting Glocks off of ninjas\n\n  Clef don't give three shits to flip scripts\n  Dismiss bullets from clips\n  Leave niggas rolling on skateboards with nothing under they hips\n  So if you test me shit gets messy\n  Busting .38 speci's out of paper bags like Joe Pesci\n\n  Yo you know the tune\n  Make sure bitches don't eat when atomic shit out them coke balloons\n  Bumped up the ninja when it got shady\n  Now I got grown ladies busting .380's out of E-Class Mercedes\n\n  Hurry the fuck up bitch get on\n  Let me out this L\n  There they go right there\n\n  MC's get cut like glass, cut like class\n  Rag tagged and crash airbags come say that shit\n  Who wanna get broke the fuck up tell me\n  Freaking vocabulary like Chinese in spelling bees\n  T-P-E-L-K held to reflector devices\n  The nicest, Jesus Christ it's\n  Junior Mafioso\n\n  Niggas get torn up head to torso\n  Bullets evacuated out windows\n  From Heckler and Koch P7M8's\n  Extra .380 on a string around my neck cause feds check the waist\n  No time to waste grab the loot then escape\n  Before next break heads are clocking private eyes are watching\n\n  Niggas caught up in the hustle\n\n  Niggas flipping packages Antonovich minks and rings I bubble\n  Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\n  Biel and Bussens essence booking Pelle's in my drawers\n  Armani, Gianni, Versace, V2\n  Lost count of all the low sections me and my mans ran through\n  It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\n  Leave them niggas screaming like a fucking retard\n\n  Lyrically I come off like ink alarms\n  Got styles under the wing like sweaters booked under my arms\n  Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\n  Try to peep my steez like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n\n  I'm fifteen what?\n  I'm outta here\n\n  MC's be fake like toupees\n  So I transplant implant my fist to they face\n  Making they skin raise sound waves disrupted\n  They fuck kid, air holes blood erupted\n  But that ain't nothing\n\n  The best is yet to come\n  MC's get strung like heads on drums\n  They don't be knowing what I'm knowing\n  Flowing like I'm flowing\n  Making motherfuckers take nosedives like 747 Boeings\n  Obnoxious, beef squashes face to face\n\n  Niggas get wet up like galoshes on Clef's plates\n  Due to hard times saying prayers committing crimes\n  Sick minds don't care rocking parties from front to rear\n  Brains engulfed by ferocious thoughts it's on\n  Running up on big roulettes with napkins doused with chloroform\n  Living in a world where you do what you must\n  If preachers be robbing niggas who the fuck can you trust?\n"},{"id":543655,"name":"Lyrical Wizardry","trackName":"Lyrical Wizardry","artistName":"Junior M.A.F.I.A.","albumName":"Conspiracy","duration":233.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's\nNever flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me\nBurnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties\nFar from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie\nStyle weak? Hardly!\nDon't let the wacked persue you like Marley\nJM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys\nNiggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers\nGot bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas\nKlep don't give three shits to flip scripts\nMiss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards\nWit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me\nShit gets messy, bustin .38 speci\nOutta paper bags like Joe Pesci\nYo, you know the tune\nMake sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons\nBalked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies\nBustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes\n\n(Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)\n(Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)\n(There they go right there, dot them niggas)\n(Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*)\n\nMC's get cut like glass, cut like glass\nRag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass\nWho wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me!\nFreakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees\nT-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es\nThe nicest, Jesus Christ-es\nJunior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso\nBullets evacuated out windows\nFrom Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates\nExtra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist\nNo time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break\nHeads are clockin, private eyes are watchin\nNigga caught up in the hustle\nFuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble\nTrouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\nBeeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers\nArmani, Gianni Versace, V2\nLost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru\nIt ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\nLeave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard\nLyrically I come off like ink alarms\nGot styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms\nNiggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\nTryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n\n(Hey, you're not fifteen)\nI'm fifteen, what?\n(What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?)\nFuck you! Soundin like that nigga from Night Court\nLoose my cuffs I'm outta here!\n\nMC's be fake like toupes so I transplant\nImplant my fist to their face makin their skin red\nSoundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid\nAirholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin\nThe best is yet to come\nMC's get strung like heads on drums\nThey don't be knowin what I'm knowin\nFlowin like I'm flowin\nMakin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings\nObnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face\nNiggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place\nThru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes\nSick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear\nBrains engulfed by ferocious???\nRunnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms\nLivin in a world where you do what you must\nIf preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust?","syncedLyrics":"[00:21.78] Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's\n[00:25.84] Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me\n[00:27.44] Burnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties\n[00:30.59] Far from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie\n[00:32.59] Style weak? Hardly!\n[00:34.15] Don't let the wacked persue you like Marley\n[00:35.55] JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys\n[00:37.81] Niggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers\n[00:40.83] Got bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas\n[00:43.46] Klep don't give three shits to flip scripts\n[00:45.35] Miss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards\n[00:48.55] Wit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me\n[00:50.60] Shit gets messy, bustin .38 speci\n[00:52.16] Outta paper bags like Joe Pesci\n[00:55.00] Yo, you know the tune\n[00:56.19] Make sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons\n[00:59.36] Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies\n[01:02.38] Bustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes\n[01:04.67] (Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)\n[01:06.62] (Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)\n[01:10.02] (There they go right there, dot them niggas)\n[01:12.58] (Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*)\n[01:15.06] MC's get cut like glass, cut like glass\n[01:17.25] Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass\n[01:20.47] Who wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me!\n[01:22.71] Freakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees\n[01:25.76] T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es\n[01:28.48] The nicest, Jesus Christ-es\n[01:31.06] Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso\n[01:34.15] Bullets evacuated out windows\n[01:36.43] From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates\n[01:38.54] Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist\n[01:41.80] No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break\n[01:44.78] Heads are clockin, private eyes are watchin\n[01:47.34] Nigga caught up in the hustle\n[01:48.79] Fuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble\n[01:52.13] Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\n[01:55.38] Beeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers\n[01:57.41] Armani, Gianni Versace, V2\n[02:00.06] Lost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru\n[02:02.85] It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\n[02:05.16] Leave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard\n[02:07.72] Lyrically I come off like ink alarms\n[02:10.45] Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms\n[02:13.13] Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\n[02:15.72] Tryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n[02:18.45] (Hey, you're not fifteen)\n[02:21.10] I'm fifteen, what?\n[02:23.30] (What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?)\n[02:25.91] Fuck you! Soundin like that nigga from Night Court\n[02:28.42] Loose my cuffs I'm outta here!\n[02:29.73] MC's be fake like toupes so I transplant\n[02:32.19] Implant my fist to their face makin their skin red\n[02:34.88] Soundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid\n[02:37.37] Airholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin\n[02:39.45] The best is yet to come\n[02:41.90] MC's get strung like heads on drums\n[02:44.33] They don't be knowin what I'm knowin\n[02:45.74] Flowin like I'm flowin\n[02:46.86] Makin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings\n[02:49.89] Obnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face\n[02:53.08] Niggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place\n[02:55.40] Thru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes\n[02:58.19] Sick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear\n[03:00.96] Brains engulfed by ferocious???\n[03:02.84] Runnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms\n[03:06.29] Livin in a world where you do what you must\n[03:08.39] If preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust?\n[03:15.63] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Wizardry\n  artist: Junior M.A.F.I.A.\n  album: Conspiracy\n  duration_ms: 233000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's\n  start_ms: 21780\n  end_ms: 25840\n- text: Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me\n  start_ms: 25840\n  end_ms: 27440\n- text: Burnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties\n  start_ms: 27440\n  end_ms: 30590\n- text: Far from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie\n  start_ms: 30590\n  end_ms: 32590\n- text: Style weak? Hardly!\n  start_ms: 32590\n  end_ms: 34150\n- text: Don't let the wacked persue you like Marley\n  start_ms: 34150\n  end_ms: 35550\n- text: JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys\n  start_ms: 35550\n  end_ms: 37810\n- text: Niggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers\n  start_ms: 37810\n  end_ms: 40830\n- text: Got bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas\n  start_ms: 40830\n  end_ms: 43460\n- text: Klep don't give three shits to flip scripts\n  start_ms: 43460\n  end_ms: 45350\n- text: Miss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards\n  start_ms: 45350\n  end_ms: 48550\n- text: Wit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me\n  start_ms: 48550\n  end_ms: 50600\n- text: Shit gets messy, bustin .38 speci\n  start_ms: 50600\n  end_ms: 52160\n- text: Outta paper bags like Joe Pesci\n  start_ms: 52160\n  end_ms: 55000\n- text: Yo, you know the tune\n  start_ms: 55000\n  end_ms: 56190\n- text: Make sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons\n  start_ms: 56190\n  end_ms: 59360\n- text: Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies\n  start_ms: 59360\n  end_ms: 62380\n- text: Bustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes\n  start_ms: 62380\n  end_ms: 64670\n- text: (Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)\n  start_ms: 64670\n  end_ms: 66620\n- text: (Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)\n  start_ms: 66620\n  end_ms: 70020\n- text: (There they go right there, dot them niggas)\n  start_ms: 70020\n  end_ms: 72580\n- text: (Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*)\n  start_ms: 72580\n  end_ms: 75060\n- text: MC's get cut like glass, cut like glass\n  start_ms: 75060\n  end_ms: 77250\n- text: Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass\n  start_ms: 77250\n  end_ms: 80470\n- text: Who wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me!\n  start_ms: 80470\n  end_ms: 82710\n- text: Freakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees\n  start_ms: 82710\n  end_ms: 85760\n- text: T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es\n  start_ms: 85760\n  end_ms: 88480\n- text: The nicest, Jesus Christ-es\n  start_ms: 88480\n  end_ms: 91060\n- text: Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso\n  start_ms: 91060\n  end_ms: 94150\n- text: Bullets evacuated out windows\n  start_ms: 94150\n  end_ms: 96430\n- text: From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates\n  start_ms: 96430\n  end_ms: 98540\n- text: Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist\n  start_ms: 98540\n  end_ms: 101800\n- text: No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break\n  start_ms: 101800\n  end_ms: 104780\n- text: Heads are clockin, private eyes are watchin\n  start_ms: 104780\n  end_ms: 107340\n- text: Nigga caught up in the hustle\n  start_ms: 107340\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Fuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 112130\n- text: Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\n  start_ms: 112130\n  end_ms: 115380\n- text: Beeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers\n  start_ms: 115380\n  end_ms: 117410\n- text: Armani, Gianni Versace, V2\n  start_ms: 117410\n  end_ms: 120060\n- text: Lost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru\n  start_ms: 120060\n  end_ms: 122850\n- text: It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\n  start_ms: 122850\n  end_ms: 125160\n- text: Leave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard\n  start_ms: 125160\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: Lyrically I come off like ink alarms\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130450\n- text: Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms\n  start_ms: 130450\n  end_ms: 133130\n- text: Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\n  start_ms: 133130\n  end_ms: 135720\n- text: Tryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n  start_ms: 135720\n  end_ms: 138450\n- text: (Hey, you're not fifteen)\n  start_ms: 138450\n  end_ms: 141100\n- text: I'm fifteen, what?\n  start_ms: 141100\n  end_ms: 143300\n- text: (What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?)\n  start_ms: 143300\n  end_ms: 145910\n- text: Fuck you! Soundin like that nigga from Night Court\n  start_ms: 145910\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: Loose my cuffs I'm outta here!\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 149730\n- text: MC's be fake like toupes so I transplant\n  start_ms: 149730\n  end_ms: 152190\n- text: Implant my fist to their face makin their skin red\n  start_ms: 152190\n  end_ms: 154880\n- text: Soundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid\n  start_ms: 154880\n  end_ms: 157370\n- text: Airholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin\n  start_ms: 157370\n  end_ms: 159450\n- text: The best is yet to come\n  start_ms: 159450\n  end_ms: 161900\n- text: MC's get strung like heads on drums\n  start_ms: 161900\n  end_ms: 164330\n- text: They don't be knowin what I'm knowin\n  start_ms: 164330\n  end_ms: 165740\n- text: Flowin like I'm flowin\n  start_ms: 165740\n  end_ms: 166860\n- text: Makin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings\n  start_ms: 166860\n  end_ms: 169890\n- text: Obnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face\n  start_ms: 169890\n  end_ms: 173080\n- text: Niggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place\n  start_ms: 173080\n  end_ms: 175400\n- text: Thru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes\n  start_ms: 175400\n  end_ms: 178190\n- text: Sick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear\n  start_ms: 178190\n  end_ms: 180960\n- text: Brains engulfed by ferocious???\n  start_ms: 180960\n  end_ms: 182840\n- text: Runnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms\n  start_ms: 182840\n  end_ms: 186290\n- text: Livin in a world where you do what you must\n  start_ms: 186290\n  end_ms: 188390\n- text: If preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust?\n  start_ms: 188390\n  end_ms: 195630\nplain: |-\n  Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's\n  Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me\n  Burnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties\n  Far from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie\n  Style weak? Hardly!\n  Don't let the wacked persue you like Marley\n  JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys\n  Niggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers\n  Got bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas\n  Klep don't give three shits to flip scripts\n  Miss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards\n  Wit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me\n  Shit gets messy, bustin .38 speci\n  Outta paper bags like Joe Pesci\n  Yo, you know the tune\n  Make sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons\n  Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies\n  Bustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes\n\n  (Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)\n  (Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)\n  (There they go right there, dot them niggas)\n  (Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*)\n\n  MC's get cut like glass, cut like glass\n  Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass\n  Who wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me!\n  Freakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees\n  T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es\n  The nicest, Jesus Christ-es\n  Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso\n  Bullets evacuated out windows\n  From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates\n  Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist\n  No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break\n  Heads are clockin, private eyes are watchin\n  Nigga caught up in the hustle\n  Fuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble\n  Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\n  Beeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers\n  Armani, Gianni Versace, V2\n  Lost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru\n  It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\n  Leave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard\n  Lyrically I come off like ink alarms\n  Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms\n  Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\n  Tryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n\n  (Hey, you're not fifteen)\n  I'm fifteen, what?\n  (What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?)\n  Fuck you! Soundin like that nigga from Night Court\n  Loose my cuffs I'm outta here!\n\n  MC's be fake like toupes so I transplant\n  Implant my fist to their face makin their skin red\n  Soundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid\n  Airholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin\n  The best is yet to come\n  MC's get strung like heads on drums\n  They don't be knowin what I'm knowin\n  Flowin like I'm flowin\n  Makin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings\n  Obnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face\n  Niggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place\n  Thru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes\n  Sick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear\n  Brains engulfed by ferocious???\n  Runnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms\n  Livin in a world where you do what you must\n  If preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust?\n"},{"id":23200994,"name":"Lyrical Wizardry","trackName":"Lyrical Wizardry","artistName":"Junior M.A.F.I.A.","albumName":"Rap Retro Rewind","duration":233.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's\nNever flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me\nBurnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties\nFar from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie\nStyle weak? Hardly!\nDon't let the wacked persue you like Marley\nJM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys\nNiggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers\nGot bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas\nKlep don't give three shits to flip scripts\nMiss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards\nWit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me\nShit gets messy, bustin .38 speci\nOutta paper bags like Joe Pesci\nYo, you know the tune\nMake sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons\nBalked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies\nBustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes\n\n(Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)\n(Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)\n(There they go right there, dot them niggas)\n(Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*)\n\nMC's get cut like glass, cut like glass\nRag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass\nWho wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me!\nFreakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees\nT-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es\nThe nicest, Jesus Christ-es\nJunior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso\nBullets evacuated out windows\nFrom Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates\nExtra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist\nNo time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break\nHeads are clockin, private eyes are watchin\nNigga caught up in the hustle\nFuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble\nTrouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\nBeeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers\nArmani, Gianni Versace, V2\nLost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru\nIt ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\nLeave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard\nLyrically I come off like ink alarms\nGot styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms\nNiggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\nTryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n\n(Hey, you're not fifteen)\nI'm fifteen, what?\n(What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?)\nFuck you! Soundin like that nigga from Night Court\nLoose my cuffs I'm outta here!\n\nMC's be fake like toupes so I transplant\nImplant my fist to their face makin their skin red\nSoundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid\nAirholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin\nThe best is yet to come\nMC's get strung like heads on drums\nThey don't be knowin what I'm knowin\nFlowin like I'm flowin\nMakin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings\nObnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face\nNiggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place\nThru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes\nSick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear\nBrains engulfed by ferocious???\nRunnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms\nLivin in a world where you do what you must\nIf preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust?","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Wizardry\n  artist: Junior M.A.F.I.A.\n  album: Rap Retro Rewind\n  duration_ms: 233000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's\n  Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me\n  Burnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties\n  Far from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie\n  Style weak? Hardly!\n  Don't let the wacked persue you like Marley\n  JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys\n  Niggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers\n  Got bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas\n  Klep don't give three shits to flip scripts\n  Miss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards\n  Wit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me\n  Shit gets messy, bustin .38 speci\n  Outta paper bags like Joe Pesci\n  Yo, you know the tune\n  Make sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons\n  Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies\n  Bustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes\n\n  (Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)\n  (Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)\n  (There they go right there, dot them niggas)\n  (Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*)\n\n  MC's get cut like glass, cut like glass\n  Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass\n  Who wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me!\n  Freakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees\n  T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es\n  The nicest, Jesus Christ-es\n  Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso\n  Bullets evacuated out windows\n  From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates\n  Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist\n  No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break\n  Heads are clockin, private eyes are watchin\n  Nigga caught up in the hustle\n  Fuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble\n  Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\n  Beeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers\n  Armani, Gianni Versace, V2\n  Lost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru\n  It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\n  Leave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard\n  Lyrically I come off like ink alarms\n  Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms\n  Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\n  Tryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n\n  (Hey, you're not fifteen)\n  I'm fifteen, what?\n  (What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?)\n  Fuck you! Soundin like that nigga from Night Court\n  Loose my cuffs I'm outta here!\n\n  MC's be fake like toupes so I transplant\n  Implant my fist to their face makin their skin red\n  Soundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid\n  Airholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin\n  The best is yet to come\n  MC's get strung like heads on drums\n  They don't be knowin what I'm knowin\n  Flowin like I'm flowin\n  Makin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings\n  Obnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face\n  Niggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place\n  Thru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes\n  Sick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear\n  Brains engulfed by ferocious???\n  Runnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms\n  Livin in a world where you do what you must\n  If preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust?\n"},{"id":10128741,"name":"Lyrical Wizardry","trackName":"Lyrical Wizardry","artistName":"Junior M.A.F.I.A.","albumName":"Conspiracy (PA)","duration":233.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's\nNever flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me\nBurnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties\nFar from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie\nStyle weak? Hardly!\nDon't let the wacked persue you like Marley\nJM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys\nNiggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers\nGot bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas\nKlep don't give three shits to flip scripts\nMiss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards\nWit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me\nShit gets messy, bustin .38 speci\nOutta paper bags like Joe Pesci\nYo, you know the tune\nMake sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons\nBalked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies\nBustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes\n\n(Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)\n(Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)\n(There they go right there, dot them niggas)\n(Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*)\n\nMC's get cut like glass, cut like glass\nRag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass\nWho wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me!\nFreakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees\nT-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es\nThe nicest, Jesus Christ-es\nJunior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso\nBullets evacuated out windows\nFrom Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates\nExtra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist\nNo time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break\nHeads are clockin, private eyes are watchin\nNigga caught up in the hustle\nFuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble\nTrouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\nBeeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers\nArmani, Gianni Versace, V2\nLost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru\nIt ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\nLeave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard\nLyrically I come off like ink alarms\nGot styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms\nNiggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\nTryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n\n(Hey, you're not fifteen)\nI'm fifteen, what?\n(What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?)\nFuck you! Soundin like that nigga from Night Court\nLoose my cuffs I'm outta here!\n\nMC's be fake like toupes so I transplant\nImplant my fist to their face makin their skin red\nSoundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid\nAirholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin\nThe best is yet to come\nMC's get strung like heads on drums\nThey don't be knowin what I'm knowin\nFlowin like I'm flowin\nMakin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings\nObnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face\nNiggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place\nThru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes\nSick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear\nBrains engulfed by ferocious???\nRunnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms\nLivin in a world where you do what you must\nIf preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust?","syncedLyrics":"[00:21.78] Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's\n[00:25.84] Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me\n[00:27.44] Burnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties\n[00:30.59] Far from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie\n[00:32.59] Style weak? Hardly!\n[00:34.15] Don't let the wacked persue you like Marley\n[00:35.55] JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys\n[00:37.81] Niggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers\n[00:40.83] Got bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas\n[00:43.46] Klep don't give three shits to flip scripts\n[00:45.35] Miss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards\n[00:48.55] Wit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me\n[00:50.60] Shit gets messy, bustin .38 speci\n[00:52.16] Outta paper bags like Joe Pesci\n[00:55.00] Yo, you know the tune\n[00:56.19] Make sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons\n[00:59.36] Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies\n[01:02.38] Bustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes\n[01:04.67] (Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)\n[01:06.62] (Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)\n[01:10.02] (There they go right there, dot them niggas)\n[01:12.58] (Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*)\n[01:15.06] MC's get cut like glass, cut like glass\n[01:17.25] Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass\n[01:20.47] Who wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me!\n[01:22.71] Freakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees\n[01:25.76] T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es\n[01:28.48] The nicest, Jesus Christ-es\n[01:31.06] Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso\n[01:34.15] Bullets evacuated out windows\n[01:36.43] From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates\n[01:38.54] Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist\n[01:41.80] No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break\n[01:44.78] Heads are clockin, private eyes are watchin\n[01:47.34] Nigga caught up in the hustle\n[01:48.79] Fuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble\n[01:52.13] Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\n[01:55.38] Beeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers\n[01:57.41] Armani, Gianni Versace, V2\n[02:00.06] Lost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru\n[02:02.85] It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\n[02:05.16] Leave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard\n[02:07.72] Lyrically I come off like ink alarms\n[02:10.45] Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms\n[02:13.13] Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\n[02:15.72] Tryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n[02:18.45] (Hey, you're not fifteen)\n[02:21.10] I'm fifteen, what?\n[02:23.30] (What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?)\n[02:25.91] Fuck you! Soundin like that nigga from Night Court\n[02:28.42] Loose my cuffs I'm outta here!\n[02:29.73] MC's be fake like toupes so I transplant\n[02:32.19] Implant my fist to their face makin their skin red\n[02:34.88] Soundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid\n[02:37.37] Airholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin\n[02:39.45] The best is yet to come\n[02:41.90] MC's get strung like heads on drums\n[02:44.33] They don't be knowin what I'm knowin\n[02:45.74] Flowin like I'm flowin\n[02:46.86] Makin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings\n[02:49.89] Obnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face\n[02:53.08] Niggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place\n[02:55.40] Thru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes\n[02:58.19] Sick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear\n[03:00.96] Brains engulfed by ferocious???\n[03:02.84] Runnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms\n[03:06.29] Livin in a world where you do what you must\n[03:08.39] If preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust?\n[03:15.63] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical Wizardry\n  artist: Junior M.A.F.I.A.\n  album: Conspiracy (PA)\n  duration_ms: 233000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's\n  start_ms: 21780\n  end_ms: 25840\n- text: Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me\n  start_ms: 25840\n  end_ms: 27440\n- text: Burnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties\n  start_ms: 27440\n  end_ms: 30590\n- text: Far from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie\n  start_ms: 30590\n  end_ms: 32590\n- text: Style weak? Hardly!\n  start_ms: 32590\n  end_ms: 34150\n- text: Don't let the wacked persue you like Marley\n  start_ms: 34150\n  end_ms: 35550\n- text: JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys\n  start_ms: 35550\n  end_ms: 37810\n- text: Niggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers\n  start_ms: 37810\n  end_ms: 40830\n- text: Got bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas\n  start_ms: 40830\n  end_ms: 43460\n- text: Klep don't give three shits to flip scripts\n  start_ms: 43460\n  end_ms: 45350\n- text: Miss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards\n  start_ms: 45350\n  end_ms: 48550\n- text: Wit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me\n  start_ms: 48550\n  end_ms: 50600\n- text: Shit gets messy, bustin .38 speci\n  start_ms: 50600\n  end_ms: 52160\n- text: Outta paper bags like Joe Pesci\n  start_ms: 52160\n  end_ms: 55000\n- text: Yo, you know the tune\n  start_ms: 55000\n  end_ms: 56190\n- text: Make sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons\n  start_ms: 56190\n  end_ms: 59360\n- text: Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies\n  start_ms: 59360\n  end_ms: 62380\n- text: Bustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes\n  start_ms: 62380\n  end_ms: 64670\n- text: (Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)\n  start_ms: 64670\n  end_ms: 66620\n- text: (Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)\n  start_ms: 66620\n  end_ms: 70020\n- text: (There they go right there, dot them niggas)\n  start_ms: 70020\n  end_ms: 72580\n- text: (Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*)\n  start_ms: 72580\n  end_ms: 75060\n- text: MC's get cut like glass, cut like glass\n  start_ms: 75060\n  end_ms: 77250\n- text: Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass\n  start_ms: 77250\n  end_ms: 80470\n- text: Who wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me!\n  start_ms: 80470\n  end_ms: 82710\n- text: Freakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees\n  start_ms: 82710\n  end_ms: 85760\n- text: T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es\n  start_ms: 85760\n  end_ms: 88480\n- text: The nicest, Jesus Christ-es\n  start_ms: 88480\n  end_ms: 91060\n- text: Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso\n  start_ms: 91060\n  end_ms: 94150\n- text: Bullets evacuated out windows\n  start_ms: 94150\n  end_ms: 96430\n- text: From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates\n  start_ms: 96430\n  end_ms: 98540\n- text: Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist\n  start_ms: 98540\n  end_ms: 101800\n- text: No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break\n  start_ms: 101800\n  end_ms: 104780\n- text: Heads are clockin, private eyes are watchin\n  start_ms: 104780\n  end_ms: 107340\n- text: Nigga caught up in the hustle\n  start_ms: 107340\n  end_ms: 108790\n- text: Fuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble\n  start_ms: 108790\n  end_ms: 112130\n- text: Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\n  start_ms: 112130\n  end_ms: 115380\n- text: Beeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers\n  start_ms: 115380\n  end_ms: 117410\n- text: Armani, Gianni Versace, V2\n  start_ms: 117410\n  end_ms: 120060\n- text: Lost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru\n  start_ms: 120060\n  end_ms: 122850\n- text: It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\n  start_ms: 122850\n  end_ms: 125160\n- text: Leave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard\n  start_ms: 125160\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: Lyrically I come off like ink alarms\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130450\n- text: Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms\n  start_ms: 130450\n  end_ms: 133130\n- text: Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\n  start_ms: 133130\n  end_ms: 135720\n- text: Tryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n  start_ms: 135720\n  end_ms: 138450\n- text: (Hey, you're not fifteen)\n  start_ms: 138450\n  end_ms: 141100\n- text: I'm fifteen, what?\n  start_ms: 141100\n  end_ms: 143300\n- text: (What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?)\n  start_ms: 143300\n  end_ms: 145910\n- text: Fuck you! Soundin like that nigga from Night Court\n  start_ms: 145910\n  end_ms: 148420\n- text: Loose my cuffs I'm outta here!\n  start_ms: 148420\n  end_ms: 149730\n- text: MC's be fake like toupes so I transplant\n  start_ms: 149730\n  end_ms: 152190\n- text: Implant my fist to their face makin their skin red\n  start_ms: 152190\n  end_ms: 154880\n- text: Soundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid\n  start_ms: 154880\n  end_ms: 157370\n- text: Airholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin\n  start_ms: 157370\n  end_ms: 159450\n- text: The best is yet to come\n  start_ms: 159450\n  end_ms: 161900\n- text: MC's get strung like heads on drums\n  start_ms: 161900\n  end_ms: 164330\n- text: They don't be knowin what I'm knowin\n  start_ms: 164330\n  end_ms: 165740\n- text: Flowin like I'm flowin\n  start_ms: 165740\n  end_ms: 166860\n- text: Makin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings\n  start_ms: 166860\n  end_ms: 169890\n- text: Obnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face\n  start_ms: 169890\n  end_ms: 173080\n- text: Niggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place\n  start_ms: 173080\n  end_ms: 175400\n- text: Thru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes\n  start_ms: 175400\n  end_ms: 178190\n- text: Sick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear\n  start_ms: 178190\n  end_ms: 180960\n- text: Brains engulfed by ferocious???\n  start_ms: 180960\n  end_ms: 182840\n- text: Runnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms\n  start_ms: 182840\n  end_ms: 186290\n- text: Livin in a world where you do what you must\n  start_ms: 186290\n  end_ms: 188390\n- text: If preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust?\n  start_ms: 188390\n  end_ms: 195630\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 195630\nplain: |-\n  Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's like Murray on SC's\n  Never flaunt, now motherfuckers come test me\n  Burnin everybody hotter than torches at Jamaican parties\n  Far from angels, niggas can't see me like Charlie\n  Style weak? Hardly!\n  Don't let the wacked persue you like Marley\n  JM clique moves in packs like whities on Harleys\n  Niggas get injured, fucked do' in 40 fingers\n  Got bitches by bike bar bussin Glocks off a' niggas\n  Klep don't give three shits to flip scripts\n  Miss bullets from clips, leave niggas rollin up skateboards\n  Wit nuttin under they hips, bitch, so if you test me\n  Shit gets messy, bustin .38 speci\n  Outta paper bags like Joe Pesci\n  Yo, you know the tune\n  Make sure bitches don't eat when it's time to shit out them coke balloons\n  Balked up the ninja when it got shady, now I got grown ladies\n  Bustin .380's outta E Class Mercedes\n\n  (Hurry the fuck up bitchm, get on!)\n  (Fuck you motherfucker let me out this L)\n  (There they go right there, dot them niggas)\n  (Motherfuckers!! *gun shots*)\n\n  MC's get cut like glass, cut like glass\n  Rag tagged and crash, hemp bags, come save dat ass\n  Who wanna get broke the fuck up? Tell me!\n  Freakin vocabulary like Chinese and spelling bees\n  T-P-E-L-K held to reflect a device-es\n  The nicest, Jesus Christ-es\n  Junior Mafioso, niggas get torn off head to torso\n  Bullets evacuated out windows\n  From Hekkyl and Coch, P7 inmates\n  Extra .380 on a string 'round my neck cos feds check the waist\n  No time to waste, grab the loot and escape before next break\n  Heads are clockin, private eyes are watchin\n  Nigga caught up in the hustle\n  Fuck flippin packages and tyin up, minx and rings I bubble\n  Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\n  Beeling boots is essence, bookin Pelle's in my drawers\n  Armani, Gianni Versace, V2\n  Lost count o' all the little sections me and mans ran thru\n  It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\n  Leave them bitch ass niggas screamin like a fuckin retard\n  Lyrically I come off like ink alarms\n  Got styles under the wing like spread is booked under my arms\n  Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\n  Tryin to peep my steez, like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n\n  (Hey, you're not fifteen)\n  I'm fifteen, what?\n  (What do you think we are? Assholes or somethin?)\n  Fuck you! Soundin like that nigga from Night Court\n  Loose my cuffs I'm outta here!\n\n  MC's be fake like toupes so I transplant\n  Implant my fist to their face makin their skin red\n  Soundwaves disrupted, they fucked, kid\n  Airholes bloody rupted but that ain't nuttin\n  The best is yet to come\n  MC's get strung like heads on drums\n  They don't be knowin what I'm knowin\n  Flowin like I'm flowin\n  Makin motherfuckers take nose dives like 747 Boeings\n  Obnoxious beef's squashes face-to-face\n  Niggas get wet up like Alasha's on Klep's place\n  Thru the hard time sayin prayers committin crimes\n  Sick minds don't care, rockin parties from front to rear\n  Brains engulfed by ferocious???\n  Runnin up on Big wit Lex wit nappies doused with chloroforms\n  Livin in a world where you do what you must\n  If preachers be robbin niggas who the fuck can you trust?\n"},{"id":32603464,"name":"12 Lyrical Wizardry","trackName":"12 Lyrical Wizardry","artistName":"Junior M.A.F.I.A.","albumName":"Conspiracy","duration":233.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's\nLike Murray on ecstasy\nNever flunked now motherfuckers come test me\nBurning everybody hotter than torches in Jamaican parties\nFar from angels niggas can't see me like Charlie\nStyle weak hardly\nDon't let the wack one school you like Marley\nJM click moves in packs like whiteys on Harleys\nNiggas get injured niggas throwing folded fingers\nGot blown up on bike-bops busting Glocks off of ninjas\n\nClef don't give three shits to flip scripts\nDismiss bullets from clips\nLeave niggas rolling on skateboards with nothing under they hips\nSo if you test me shit gets messy\nBusting .38 speci's out of paper bags like Joe Pesci\n\nYo you know the tune\nMake sure bitches don't eat when atomic shit out them coke balloons\nBumped up the ninja when it got shady\nNow I got grown ladies busting .380's out of E-Class Mercedes\n\nHurry the fuck up bitch get on\nLet me out this L\nThere they go right there\n\nMC's get cut like glass, cut like class\nRag tagged and crash airbags come say that shit\nWho wanna get broke the fuck up tell me\nFreaking vocabulary like Chinese in spelling bees\nT-P-E-L-K held to reflector devices\nThe nicest, Jesus Christ it's\nJunior Mafioso\n\nNiggas get torn up head to torso\nBullets evacuated out windows\nFrom Heckler and Koch P7M8's\nExtra .380 on a string around my neck cause feds check the waist\nNo time to waste grab the loot then escape\nBefore next break heads are clocking private eyes are watching\n\nNiggas caught up in the hustle\n\nNiggas flipping packages Antonovich minks and rings I bubble\nTrouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\nBiel and Bussens essence booking Pelle's in my drawers\nArmani, Gianni, Versace, V2\nLost count of all the low sections me and my mans ran through\nIt ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\nLeave them niggas screaming like a fucking retard\n\nLyrically I come off like ink alarms\nGot styles under the wing like sweaters booked under my arms\nNiggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\nTry to peep my steez like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n\nI'm fifteen what?\nI'm outta here\n\nMC's be fake like toupees\nSo I transplant implant my fist to they face\nMaking they skin raise sound waves disrupted\nThey fuck kid, air holes blood erupted\nBut that ain't nothing\n\nThe best is yet to come\nMC's get strung like heads on drums\nThey don't be knowing what I'm knowing\nFlowing like I'm flowing\nMaking motherfuckers take nosedives like 747 Boeings\nObnoxious, beef squashes face to face\n\nNiggas get wet up like galoshes on Clef's plates\nDue to hard times saying prayers committing crimes\nSick minds don't care rocking parties from front to rear\nBrains engulfed by ferocious thoughts it's on\nRunning up on big roulettes with napkins doused with chloroform\nLiving in a world where you do what you must\nIf preachers be robbing niggas who the fuck can you trust?","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 12 Lyrical Wizardry\n  artist: Junior M.A.F.I.A.\n  album: Conspiracy\n  duration_ms: 233000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Lyrical wizardry dances on MC's\n  Like Murray on ecstasy\n  Never flunked now motherfuckers come test me\n  Burning everybody hotter than torches in Jamaican parties\n  Far from angels niggas can't see me like Charlie\n  Style weak hardly\n  Don't let the wack one school you like Marley\n  JM click moves in packs like whiteys on Harleys\n  Niggas get injured niggas throwing folded fingers\n  Got blown up on bike-bops busting Glocks off of ninjas\n\n  Clef don't give three shits to flip scripts\n  Dismiss bullets from clips\n  Leave niggas rolling on skateboards with nothing under they hips\n  So if you test me shit gets messy\n  Busting .38 speci's out of paper bags like Joe Pesci\n\n  Yo you know the tune\n  Make sure bitches don't eat when atomic shit out them coke balloons\n  Bumped up the ninja when it got shady\n  Now I got grown ladies busting .380's out of E-Class Mercedes\n\n  Hurry the fuck up bitch get on\n  Let me out this L\n  There they go right there\n\n  MC's get cut like glass, cut like class\n  Rag tagged and crash airbags come say that shit\n  Who wanna get broke the fuck up tell me\n  Freaking vocabulary like Chinese in spelling bees\n  T-P-E-L-K held to reflector devices\n  The nicest, Jesus Christ it's\n  Junior Mafioso\n\n  Niggas get torn up head to torso\n  Bullets evacuated out windows\n  From Heckler and Koch P7M8's\n  Extra .380 on a string around my neck cause feds check the waist\n  No time to waste grab the loot then escape\n  Before next break heads are clocking private eyes are watching\n\n  Niggas caught up in the hustle\n\n  Niggas flipping packages Antonovich minks and rings I bubble\n  Trouble's what I look for in stores on expensive floors\n  Biel and Bussens essence booking Pelle's in my drawers\n  Armani, Gianni, Versace, V2\n  Lost count of all the low sections me and my mans ran through\n  It ain't hard to discard cans of mace on guards\n  Leave them niggas screaming like a fucking retard\n\n  Lyrically I come off like ink alarms\n  Got styles under the wing like sweaters booked under my arms\n  Niggas couldn't see me with closed circuit TV\n  Try to peep my steez like DT's I get over like I'm fifteen\n\n  I'm fifteen what?\n  I'm outta here\n\n  MC's be fake like toupees\n  So I transplant implant my fist to they face\n  Making they skin raise sound waves disrupted\n  They fuck kid, air holes blood erupted\n  But that ain't nothing\n\n  The best is yet to come\n  MC's get strung like heads on drums\n  They don't be knowing what I'm knowing\n  Flowing like I'm flowing\n  Making motherfuckers take nosedives like 747 Boeings\n  Obnoxious, beef squashes face to face\n\n  Niggas get wet up like galoshes on Clef's plates\n  Due to hard times saying prayers committing crimes\n  Sick minds don't care rocking parties from front to rear\n  Brains engulfed by ferocious thoughts it's on\n  Running up on big roulettes with napkins doused with chloroform\n  Living in a world where you do what you must\n  If preachers be robbing niggas who the fuck can you trust?\n"}]