[{"id":30981461,"name":"Step Up - Kurupt feat. Crooked I & Xzibit","trackName":"Step Up - Kurupt feat. Crooked I & Xzibit","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha","duration":292.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Aw yeah!\nRight about now it's time to get busy\nHuh, straight out the box, nonstop\nKurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\nThis is the art of, manslaughter\nWhen I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\nYou entered the wrong scuffle\nYou catchin' a chrome buckle\nI uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\nDeliver the sick verbals\nMy shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\nYour body spin around, in six circles\nDiminishin' infamous menaces\nI'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\nLyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\nFreezin g's in your legion\nFreakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\nIt's all about Crooked\nThese bitches shout Crooked\nI'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\nI own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\nWhen I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\nI load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\nNow that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\nMotherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\nCan you fuck with this?\nLet's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\nY'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\nYeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\nTerror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\nThe storm, my vocals float like arks\nIn the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\nMy microphone massacres every year the same time\nWith audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\nUp against the microphone night stalker\nWith a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\nAs you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\nThe room gets cleared as my views get clearer\nExtra-terrestrial microphone terror\nIn effect, get infected\nTell me what the fuck you expected\nThese venemous injections\nI leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\nFrom these poisonous melodies and selections\nI select the methods of slow anguish\nI mangle shit with my language\nTell me, have you ever seen one elope\nWith the microphone\nIn a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\nBaboom, alone in my own zone\nSo don't compare me to none\nNot one's nearly\nSevere, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\nNear me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\nSincerely, I could have the spot locked\nNiggas get stoned for touching microphones\nWith no knowledge on how to rock\n\nYeah, back in effect, it don't stop\nTurn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\nWe fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\nGot my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\nAlkaholiks!\n\nWhen I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\nSadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\nBust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\nMake niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\nIt'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\nAct like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\nSee we do it how it can't be done\nI'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\nOr direct descendant of the gatling gun\nDon't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\nThat ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\nYou can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\nReady to repeat, round after round at you\nAll hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\nI found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\nI own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\nCross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\nI'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\nIt's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\nCan't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\nMy Dogg Kurupt\n\nYeah, no shit\nYeah, y'all can't fuck with that\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nWest coast, we been doin' this shit for years\nAin't nothin' happenin' wit' that\nBattlecat\n(Don't step up)\nRight, right\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nHuh, huh, huh\n\n(Get get get get hurt)\nWhatcha say?\nMotherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nDaz Dillinger\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nBreak it down, break it down\nHuh\n\nMotherfuckers can't fade this shit","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.37] Aw yeah!\n[00:01.89] Right about now it's time to get busy\n[00:05.77] Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n[00:10.60] Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n[00:15.44] This is the art of, manslaughter\n[00:17.51] When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n[00:20.62] You entered the wrong scuffle\n[00:22.29] You catchin' a chrome buckle\n[00:23.41] I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n[00:25.92] Deliver the sick verbals\n[00:27.41] My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n[00:29.54] Your body spin around, in six circles\n[00:31.25] Diminishin' infamous menaces\n[00:32.91] I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n[00:35.53] Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n[00:37.63] Freezin g's in your legion\n[00:38.96] Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n[00:40.93] It's all about Crooked\n[00:42.57] These bitches shout Crooked\n[00:43.90] I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n[00:46.40] I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n[00:48.85] When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n[00:51.69] I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n[00:54.30] Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n[00:56.86] Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n[01:01.75] Can you fuck with this?\n[01:04.04] Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n[01:07.24] Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n[01:12.15] Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n[01:17.09] Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n[01:19.75] The storm, my vocals float like arks\n[01:22.32] In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n[01:24.97] My microphone massacres every year the same time\n[01:27.13] With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n[01:31.82] Up against the microphone night stalker\n[01:33.05] With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n[01:35.36] As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n[01:37.88] The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n[01:40.59] Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n[01:43.08] In effect, get infected\n[01:44.33] Tell me what the fuck you expected\n[01:46.72] These venemous injections\n[01:48.49] I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n[01:50.78] From these poisonous melodies and selections\n[01:53.41] I select the methods of slow anguish\n[01:55.90] I mangle shit with my language\n[01:57.66] Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n[02:00.14] With the microphone\n[02:01.37] In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n[02:03.62] Baboom, alone in my own zone\n[02:05.95] So don't compare me to none\n[02:07.85] Not one's nearly\n[02:09.19] Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n[02:11.78] Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n[02:15.06] Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n[02:17.17] Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n[02:18.66] With no knowledge on how to rock\n[02:20.02] Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n[02:22.61] Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n[02:26.96] We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n[02:30.45] Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n[02:33.79] Alkaholiks!\n[02:35.25] When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n[02:37.60] Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n[02:40.03] Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n[02:42.59] Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n[02:45.33] It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n[02:48.28] Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n[02:50.66] See we do it how it can't be done\n[02:52.93] I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n[02:55.47] Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n[02:58.07] Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n[03:00.35] That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n[03:02.97] You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n[03:05.57] Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n[03:08.45] All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n[03:10.76] I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n[03:13.32] I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n[03:16.29] Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n[03:18.84] I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n[03:21.25] It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n[03:23.74] Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n[03:26.38] My Dogg Kurupt\n[03:27.43] Yeah, no shit\n[03:30.32] Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n[03:38.24] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[03:40.50] West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n[03:44.38] Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n[03:45.87] Battlecat\n[03:47.22] (Don't step up)\n[03:50.93] Right, right\n[03:54.73] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[03:57.72] Huh, huh, huh\n[03:58.99] (Get get get get hurt)\n[04:00.32] Whatcha say?\n[04:02.74] Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n[04:05.48] (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n[04:07.16] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[04:14.73] Daz Dillinger\n[04:16.02] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[04:19.88] Break it down, break it down\n[04:23.19] Huh\n[04:40.00] Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n[04:41.93] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Step Up - Kurupt feat. Crooked I & Xzibit\n  artist: Kurupt\n  album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha\n  duration_ms: 292000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Aw yeah!\n  start_ms: 370\n  end_ms: 1890\n- text: Right about now it's time to get busy\n  start_ms: 1890\n  end_ms: 5770\n- text: Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  start_ms: 5770\n  end_ms: 10600\n- text: Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n  start_ms: 10600\n  end_ms: 15440\n- text: This is the art of, manslaughter\n  start_ms: 15440\n  end_ms: 17510\n- text: When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  start_ms: 17510\n  end_ms: 20620\n- text: You entered the wrong scuffle\n  start_ms: 20620\n  end_ms: 22290\n- text: You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  start_ms: 22290\n  end_ms: 23410\n- text: I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  start_ms: 23410\n  end_ms: 25920\n- text: Deliver the sick verbals\n  start_ms: 25920\n  end_ms: 27410\n- text: My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  start_ms: 27410\n  end_ms: 29540\n- text: Your body spin around, in six circles\n  start_ms: 29540\n  end_ms: 31250\n- text: Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  start_ms: 31250\n  end_ms: 32910\n- text: I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  start_ms: 32910\n  end_ms: 35530\n- text: Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  start_ms: 35530\n  end_ms: 37630\n- text: Freezin g's in your legion\n  start_ms: 37630\n  end_ms: 38960\n- text: Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  start_ms: 38960\n  end_ms: 40930\n- text: It's all about Crooked\n  start_ms: 40930\n  end_ms: 42570\n- text: These bitches shout Crooked\n  start_ms: 42570\n  end_ms: 43900\n- text: I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  start_ms: 43900\n  end_ms: 46400\n- text: I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  start_ms: 46400\n  end_ms: 48850\n- text: When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  start_ms: 48850\n  end_ms: 51690\n- text: I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  start_ms: 51690\n  end_ms: 54300\n- text: Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n  start_ms: 54300\n  end_ms: 56860\n- text: Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  start_ms: 56860\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Can you fuck with this?\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64040\n- text: Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  start_ms: 64040\n  end_ms: 67240\n- text: Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  start_ms: 67240\n  end_ms: 72150\n- text: Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n  start_ms: 72150\n  end_ms: 77090\n- text: Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  start_ms: 77090\n  end_ms: 79750\n- text: The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  start_ms: 79750\n  end_ms: 82320\n- text: In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  start_ms: 82320\n  end_ms: 84970\n- text: My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  start_ms: 84970\n  end_ms: 87130\n- text: With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  start_ms: 87130\n  end_ms: 91820\n- text: Up against the microphone night stalker\n  start_ms: 91820\n  end_ms: 93050\n- text: With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  start_ms: 93050\n  end_ms: 95360\n- text: As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  start_ms: 95360\n  end_ms: 97880\n- text: The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  start_ms: 97880\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 103080\n- text: In effect, get infected\n  start_ms: 103080\n  end_ms: 104330\n- text: Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  start_ms: 104330\n  end_ms: 106720\n- text: These venemous injections\n  start_ms: 106720\n  end_ms: 108490\n- text: I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  start_ms: 108490\n  end_ms: 110780\n- text: From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  start_ms: 110780\n  end_ms: 113410\n- text: I select the methods of slow anguish\n  start_ms: 113410\n  end_ms: 115900\n- text: I mangle shit with my language\n  start_ms: 115900\n  end_ms: 117660\n- text: Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  start_ms: 117660\n  end_ms: 120140\n- text: With the microphone\n  start_ms: 120140\n  end_ms: 121370\n- text: In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  start_ms: 121370\n  end_ms: 123620\n- text: Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  start_ms: 123620\n  end_ms: 125950\n- text: So don't compare me to none\n  start_ms: 125950\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: Not one's nearly\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 129190\n- text: Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  start_ms: 129190\n  end_ms: 131780\n- text: Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  start_ms: 131780\n  end_ms: 135060\n- text: Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  start_ms: 135060\n  end_ms: 137170\n- text: Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  start_ms: 137170\n  end_ms: 138660\n- text: With no knowledge on how to rock\n  start_ms: 138660\n  end_ms: 140020\n- text: Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  start_ms: 140020\n  end_ms: 142610\n- text: Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  start_ms: 142610\n  end_ms: 146960\n- text: We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  start_ms: 146960\n  end_ms: 150450\n- text: Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  start_ms: 150450\n  end_ms: 153790\n- text: Alkaholiks!\n  start_ms: 153790\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 157600\n- text: Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  start_ms: 157600\n  end_ms: 160030\n- text: Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  start_ms: 160030\n  end_ms: 162590\n- text: Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  start_ms: 162590\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 168280\n- text: Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  start_ms: 168280\n  end_ms: 170660\n- text: See we do it how it can't be done\n  start_ms: 170660\n  end_ms: 172930\n- text: I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  start_ms: 172930\n  end_ms: 175470\n- text: Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  start_ms: 175470\n  end_ms: 178070\n- text: Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  start_ms: 178070\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 182970\n- text: You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  start_ms: 182970\n  end_ms: 185570\n- text: Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  start_ms: 185570\n  end_ms: 188450\n- text: All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  start_ms: 188450\n  end_ms: 190760\n- text: I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  start_ms: 190760\n  end_ms: 193320\n- text: I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  start_ms: 193320\n  end_ms: 196290\n- text: Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  start_ms: 196290\n  end_ms: 198840\n- text: I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  start_ms: 198840\n  end_ms: 201250\n- text: It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  start_ms: 201250\n  end_ms: 203740\n- text: Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  start_ms: 203740\n  end_ms: 206380\n- text: My Dogg Kurupt\n  start_ms: 206380\n  end_ms: 207430\n- text: Yeah, no shit\n  start_ms: 207430\n  end_ms: 210320\n- text: Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  start_ms: 210320\n  end_ms: 218240\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 218240\n  end_ms: 220500\n- text: West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  start_ms: 220500\n  end_ms: 224380\n- text: Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  start_ms: 224380\n  end_ms: 225870\n- text: Battlecat\n  start_ms: 225870\n  end_ms: 227220\n- text: (Don't step up)\n  start_ms: 227220\n  end_ms: 230930\n- text: Right, right\n  start_ms: 230930\n  end_ms: 234730\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 234730\n  end_ms: 237720\n- text: Huh, huh, huh\n  start_ms: 237720\n  end_ms: 238990\n- text: (Get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 238990\n  end_ms: 240320\n- text: Whatcha say?\n  start_ms: 240320\n  end_ms: 242740\n- text: Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  start_ms: 242740\n  end_ms: 245480\n- text: (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 245480\n  end_ms: 247160\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 247160\n  end_ms: 254730\n- text: Daz Dillinger\n  start_ms: 254730\n  end_ms: 256020\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 256020\n  end_ms: 259880\n- text: Break it down, break it down\n  start_ms: 259880\n  end_ms: 263190\n- text: Huh\n  start_ms: 263190\n  end_ms: 280000\n- text: Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n  start_ms: 280000\n  end_ms: 281930\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 281930\nplain: |-\n  Aw yeah!\n  Right about now it's time to get busy\n  Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\n  This is the art of, manslaughter\n  When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  You entered the wrong scuffle\n  You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  Deliver the sick verbals\n  My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  Your body spin around, in six circles\n  Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  Freezin g's in your legion\n  Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  It's all about Crooked\n  These bitches shout Crooked\n  I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\n  Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  Can you fuck with this?\n  Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\n  Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  Up against the microphone night stalker\n  With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  In effect, get infected\n  Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  These venemous injections\n  I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  I select the methods of slow anguish\n  I mangle shit with my language\n  Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  With the microphone\n  In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  So don't compare me to none\n  Not one's nearly\n  Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  With no knowledge on how to rock\n\n  Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  Alkaholiks!\n\n  When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  See we do it how it can't be done\n  I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  My Dogg Kurupt\n\n  Yeah, no shit\n  Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  Battlecat\n  (Don't step up)\n  Right, right\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Huh, huh, huh\n\n  (Get get get get hurt)\n  Whatcha say?\n  Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  Daz Dillinger\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Break it down, break it down\n  Huh\n\n  Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n"},{"id":23861365,"name":"Step Up","trackName":"Step Up","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha","duration":293.070952,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Daz:\nAw yeah!\nRight about now it's time to get busy\nHuh, straight out the box, nonstop\nKurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n(Wait a minute, um)\nCrooked I:\nThis is the art of, manslaughter\nWhen I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\nYou entered the wrong scuffle\nYou catchin' a chrome buckle\nI uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\nDeliver the sick verbals\nMy shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,\nyour body spin around, in six circles\nDiminishin' infamous menaces\nI'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\nLyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\nFreezin g's in your legion\nFreakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\nIt's all about Crooked\nThese bitches shout Crooked\nI'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\nI own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\nWhen I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\nI load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\nNow that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\nDaz:\nMotherfuccers can you dig that, huh?\nCan you fucc with this?\nLet's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up\ny'all don't want to see none of this west coast MC shit\nYeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!\nKurupt:\nTerror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\nThe storm, my vocals float like arts\nIn the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\nMy microphone massacres every year the same time\nWith audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker\nUp against the microphone night stalker\nWith a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\nAs you can see I continue mashin' MCs\nCaboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer\nExtra-terrestrial microphone terror\nIn effect, get infected\nTell me what the fucc you expected\nThese venomous injections\nI leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\nFrom these poisenous melodies and selections\nI select the methods of slow anguish\nI mangle shit with my language\nTell me, have you ever seen one elope\nWith the microphone\nIn a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\nBaboom, alone in my own zone\nSo don't compare me to none\nNot one's nearly\nSevere, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\nNear me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\nSincerely, I could have the spot locked\nNiggas get stoned for touching microphones\nwith no knowledge on how to rock\nDaz:\nYeah, back in effect, it don't stop\nTurn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\nWe fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\nGot my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house\nAlkaholiks!\nXzibit:\nWhen I was enlisted\nI came to the table double fisted\nSadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\nBust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\nMake niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy\nIt'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\nAct like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run\nSee we do it how it can't be done\nI'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won\nOr direct descendant of the gatling gun\nDon't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\nThat ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\nYou can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street\nReady to repeat, round after after round at you\nAll hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\nI found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine\nI own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes\nCross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\nI'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\nIt's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\nCan't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\nMy Dogg Kurupt\nDaz:\nYeah, no shit\nYeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nWest coast, we been doin' this shit for years\nain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\nBattlecat\n(Don't step up)\nRight, right\n(Don't step up, unles you want to get hurt)\nHuh, huh, huh\n(Get get get get hurt)\nWhatcha say\nMotherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle\n(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nDaz Dillinger\n(Don't step up, unless you want to get hurt)\nBreak it down, break it down\nHuh\n(mixed with Battlecat's scratching)\nMotherfuccas can't fade this shit","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Step Up\n  artist: Kurupt\n  album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha\n  duration_ms: 293071\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Daz:\n  Aw yeah!\n  Right about now it's time to get busy\n  Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n  (Wait a minute, um)\n  Crooked I:\n  This is the art of, manslaughter\n  When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  You entered the wrong scuffle\n  You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  Deliver the sick verbals\n  My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,\n  your body spin around, in six circles\n  Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  Freezin g's in your legion\n  Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  It's all about Crooked\n  These bitches shout Crooked\n  I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n  Daz:\n  Motherfuccers can you dig that, huh?\n  Can you fucc with this?\n  Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up\n  y'all don't want to see none of this west coast MC shit\n  Yeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!\n  Kurupt:\n  Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  The storm, my vocals float like arts\n  In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  With audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker\n  Up against the microphone night stalker\n  With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  As you can see I continue mashin' MCs\n  Caboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  In effect, get infected\n  Tell me what the fucc you expected\n  These venomous injections\n  I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  From these poisenous melodies and selections\n  I select the methods of slow anguish\n  I mangle shit with my language\n  Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  With the microphone\n  In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  So don't compare me to none\n  Not one's nearly\n  Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  with no knowledge on how to rock\n  Daz:\n  Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house\n  Alkaholiks!\n  Xzibit:\n  When I was enlisted\n  I came to the table double fisted\n  Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  Make niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy\n  It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run\n  See we do it how it can't be done\n  I'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won\n  Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  You can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street\n  Ready to repeat, round after after round at you\n  All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  I found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine\n  I own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes\n  Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  My Dogg Kurupt\n  Daz:\n  Yeah, no shit\n  Yeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  Battlecat\n  (Don't step up)\n  Right, right\n  (Don't step up, unles you want to get hurt)\n  Huh, huh, huh\n  (Get get get get hurt)\n  Whatcha say\n  Motherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle\n  (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  Daz Dillinger\n  (Don't step up, unless you want to get hurt)\n  Break it down, break it down\n  Huh\n  (mixed with Battlecat's scratching)\n  Motherfuccas can't fade this shit\n"},{"id":23797402,"name":"Step Up","trackName":"Step Up","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha (Digitally Remastered)","duration":295.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Daz:\nAw yeah!\nRight about now it's time to get busy\nHuh, straight out the box, nonstop\nKurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n(Wait a minute, um)\nCrooked I:\nThis is the art of, manslaughter\nWhen I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\nYou entered the wrong scuffle\nYou catchin' a chrome buckle\nI uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\nDeliver the sick verbals\nMy shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,\nyour body spin around, in six circles\nDiminishin' infamous menaces\nI'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\nLyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\nFreezin g's in your legion\nFreakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\nIt's all about Crooked\nThese bitches shout Crooked\nI'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\nI own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\nWhen I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\nI load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\nNow that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\nDaz:\nMotherfuccers can you dig that, huh?\nCan you fucc with this?\nLet's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up\ny'all don't want to see none of this west coast MC shit\nYeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!\nKurupt:\nTerror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\nThe storm, my vocals float like arts\nIn the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\nMy microphone massacres every year the same time\nWith audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker\nUp against the microphone night stalker\nWith a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\nAs you can see I continue mashin' MCs\nCaboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer\nExtra-terrestrial microphone terror\nIn effect, get infected\nTell me what the fucc you expected\nThese venomous injections\nI leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\nFrom these poisenous melodies and selections\nI select the methods of slow anguish\nI mangle shit with my language\nTell me, have you ever seen one elope\nWith the microphone\nIn a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\nBaboom, alone in my own zone\nSo don't compare me to none\nNot one's nearly\nSevere, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\nNear me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\nSincerely, I could have the spot locked\nNiggas get stoned for touching microphones\nwith no knowledge on how to rock\nDaz:\nYeah, back in effect, it don't stop\nTurn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\nWe fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\nGot my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house\nAlkaholiks!\nXzibit:\nWhen I was enlisted\nI came to the table double fisted\nSadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\nBust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\nMake niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy\nIt'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\nAct like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run\nSee we do it how it can't be done\nI'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won\nOr direct descendant of the gatling gun\nDon't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\nThat ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\nYou can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street\nReady to repeat, round after after round at you\nAll hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\nI found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine\nI own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes\nCross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\nI'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\nIt's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\nCan't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\nMy Dogg Kurupt\nDaz:\nYeah, no shit\nYeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nWest coast, we been doin' this shit for years\nain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\nBattlecat\n(Don't step up)\nRight, right\n(Don't step up, unles you want to get hurt)\nHuh, huh, huh\n(Get get get get hurt)\nWhatcha say\nMotherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle\n(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nDaz Dillinger\n(Don't step up, unless you want to get hurt)\nBreak it down, break it down\nHuh\n(mixed with Battlecat's scratching)\nMotherfuccas can't fade this shit","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Step Up\n  artist: Kurupt\n  album: Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha (Digitally Remastered)\n  duration_ms: 295000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Daz:\n  Aw yeah!\n  Right about now it's time to get busy\n  Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n  (Wait a minute, um)\n  Crooked I:\n  This is the art of, manslaughter\n  When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  You entered the wrong scuffle\n  You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  Deliver the sick verbals\n  My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,\n  your body spin around, in six circles\n  Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  Freezin g's in your legion\n  Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  It's all about Crooked\n  These bitches shout Crooked\n  I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n  Daz:\n  Motherfuccers can you dig that, huh?\n  Can you fucc with this?\n  Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up\n  y'all don't want to see none of this west coast MC shit\n  Yeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!\n  Kurupt:\n  Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  The storm, my vocals float like arts\n  In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  With audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker\n  Up against the microphone night stalker\n  With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  As you can see I continue mashin' MCs\n  Caboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  In effect, get infected\n  Tell me what the fucc you expected\n  These venomous injections\n  I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  From these poisenous melodies and selections\n  I select the methods of slow anguish\n  I mangle shit with my language\n  Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  With the microphone\n  In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  So don't compare me to none\n  Not one's nearly\n  Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  with no knowledge on how to rock\n  Daz:\n  Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house\n  Alkaholiks!\n  Xzibit:\n  When I was enlisted\n  I came to the table double fisted\n  Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  Make niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy\n  It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run\n  See we do it how it can't be done\n  I'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won\n  Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  You can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street\n  Ready to repeat, round after after round at you\n  All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  I found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine\n  I own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes\n  Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  My Dogg Kurupt\n  Daz:\n  Yeah, no shit\n  Yeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  Battlecat\n  (Don't step up)\n  Right, right\n  (Don't step up, unles you want to get hurt)\n  Huh, huh, huh\n  (Get get get get hurt)\n  Whatcha say\n  Motherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle\n  (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  Daz Dillinger\n  (Don't step up, unless you want to get hurt)\n  Break it down, break it down\n  Huh\n  (mixed with Battlecat's scratching)\n  Motherfuccas can't fade this shit\n"},{"id":24813960,"name":"Step Up","trackName":"Step Up","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha","duration":296.364688,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Daz:\nAw yeah!\nRight about now it's time to get busy\nHuh, straight out the box, nonstop\nKurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n(Wait a minute, um)\nCrooked I:\nThis is the art of, manslaughter\nWhen I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\nYou entered the wrong scuffle\nYou catchin' a chrome buckle\nI uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\nDeliver the sick verbals\nMy shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,\nyour body spin around, in six circles\nDiminishin' infamous menaces\nI'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\nLyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\nFreezin g's in your legion\nFreakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\nIt's all about Crooked\nThese bitches shout Crooked\nI'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\nI own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\nWhen I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\nI load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\nNow that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\nDaz:\nMotherfuccers can you dig that, huh?\nCan you fucc with this?\nLet's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up\ny'all don't want to see none of this west coast MC shit\nYeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!\nKurupt:\nTerror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\nThe storm, my vocals float like arts\nIn the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\nMy microphone massacres every year the same time\nWith audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker\nUp against the microphone night stalker\nWith a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\nAs you can see I continue mashin' MCs\nCaboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer\nExtra-terrestrial microphone terror\nIn effect, get infected\nTell me what the fucc you expected\nThese venomous injections\nI leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\nFrom these poisenous melodies and selections\nI select the methods of slow anguish\nI mangle shit with my language\nTell me, have you ever seen one elope\nWith the microphone\nIn a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\nBaboom, alone in my own zone\nSo don't compare me to none\nNot one's nearly\nSevere, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\nNear me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\nSincerely, I could have the spot locked\nNiggas get stoned for touching microphones\nwith no knowledge on how to rock\nDaz:\nYeah, back in effect, it don't stop\nTurn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\nWe fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\nGot my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house\nAlkaholiks!\nXzibit:\nWhen I was enlisted\nI came to the table double fisted\nSadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\nBust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\nMake niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy\nIt'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\nAct like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run\nSee we do it how it can't be done\nI'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won\nOr direct descendant of the gatling gun\nDon't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\nThat ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\nYou can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street\nReady to repeat, round after after round at you\nAll hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\nI found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine\nI own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes\nCross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\nI'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\nIt's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\nCan't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\nMy Dogg Kurupt\nDaz:\nYeah, no shit\nYeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nWest coast, we been doin' this shit for years\nain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\nBattlecat\n(Don't step up)\nRight, right\n(Don't step up, unles you want to get hurt)\nHuh, huh, huh\n(Get get get get hurt)\nWhatcha say\nMotherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle\n(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nDaz Dillinger\n(Don't step up, unless you want to get hurt)\nBreak it down, break it down\nHuh\n(mixed with Battlecat's scratching)\nMotherfuccas can't fade this shit","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Step Up\n  artist: Kurupt\n  album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha\n  duration_ms: 296365\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Daz:\n  Aw yeah!\n  Right about now it's time to get busy\n  Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n  (Wait a minute, um)\n  Crooked I:\n  This is the art of, manslaughter\n  When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  You entered the wrong scuffle\n  You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  Deliver the sick verbals\n  My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,\n  your body spin around, in six circles\n  Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  Freezin g's in your legion\n  Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  It's all about Crooked\n  These bitches shout Crooked\n  I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n  Daz:\n  Motherfuccers can you dig that, huh?\n  Can you fucc with this?\n  Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up\n  y'all don't want to see none of this west coast MC shit\n  Yeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!\n  Kurupt:\n  Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  The storm, my vocals float like arts\n  In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  With audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker\n  Up against the microphone night stalker\n  With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  As you can see I continue mashin' MCs\n  Caboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  In effect, get infected\n  Tell me what the fucc you expected\n  These venomous injections\n  I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  From these poisenous melodies and selections\n  I select the methods of slow anguish\n  I mangle shit with my language\n  Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  With the microphone\n  In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  So don't compare me to none\n  Not one's nearly\n  Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  with no knowledge on how to rock\n  Daz:\n  Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house\n  Alkaholiks!\n  Xzibit:\n  When I was enlisted\n  I came to the table double fisted\n  Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  Make niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy\n  It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run\n  See we do it how it can't be done\n  I'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won\n  Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  You can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street\n  Ready to repeat, round after after round at you\n  All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  I found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine\n  I own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes\n  Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  My Dogg Kurupt\n  Daz:\n  Yeah, no shit\n  Yeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  Battlecat\n  (Don't step up)\n  Right, right\n  (Don't step up, unles you want to get hurt)\n  Huh, huh, huh\n  (Get get get get hurt)\n  Whatcha say\n  Motherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle\n  (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  Daz Dillinger\n  (Don't step up, unless you want to get hurt)\n  Break it down, break it down\n  Huh\n  (mixed with Battlecat's scratching)\n  Motherfuccas can't fade this shit\n"},{"id":27779086,"name":"Step Up","trackName":"Step Up","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha [Clean]","duration":292.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Daz:\nAw yeah!\nRight about now it's time to get busy\nHuh, straight out the box, nonstop\nKurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n(Wait a minute, um)\nCrooked I:\nThis is the art of, manslaughter\nWhen I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\nYou entered the wrong scuffle\nYou catchin' a chrome buckle\nI uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\nDeliver the sick verbals\nMy shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,\nyour body spin around, in six circles\nDiminishin' infamous menaces\nI'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\nLyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\nFreezin g's in your legion\nFreakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\nIt's all about Crooked\nThese bitches shout Crooked\nI'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\nI own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\nWhen I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\nI load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\nNow that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\nDaz:\nMotherfuccers can you dig that, huh?\nCan you fucc with this?\nLet's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up\ny'all don't want to see none of this west coast MC shit\nYeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!\nKurupt:\nTerror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\nThe storm, my vocals float like arts\nIn the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\nMy microphone massacres every year the same time\nWith audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker\nUp against the microphone night stalker\nWith a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\nAs you can see I continue mashin' MCs\nCaboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer\nExtra-terrestrial microphone terror\nIn effect, get infected\nTell me what the fucc you expected\nThese venomous injections\nI leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\nFrom these poisenous melodies and selections\nI select the methods of slow anguish\nI mangle shit with my language\nTell me, have you ever seen one elope\nWith the microphone\nIn a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\nBaboom, alone in my own zone\nSo don't compare me to none\nNot one's nearly\nSevere, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\nNear me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\nSincerely, I could have the spot locked\nNiggas get stoned for touching microphones\nwith no knowledge on how to rock\nDaz:\nYeah, back in effect, it don't stop\nTurn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\nWe fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\nGot my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house\nAlkaholiks!\nXzibit:\nWhen I was enlisted\nI came to the table double fisted\nSadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\nBust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\nMake niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy\nIt'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\nAct like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run\nSee we do it how it can't be done\nI'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won\nOr direct descendant of the gatling gun\nDon't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\nThat ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\nYou can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street\nReady to repeat, round after after round at you\nAll hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\nI found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine\nI own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes\nCross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\nI'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\nIt's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\nCan't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\nMy Dogg Kurupt\nDaz:\nYeah, no shit\nYeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nWest coast, we been doin' this shit for years\nain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\nBattlecat\n(Don't step up)\nRight, right\n(Don't step up, unles you want to get hurt)\nHuh, huh, huh\n(Get get get get hurt)\nWhatcha say\nMotherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle\n(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nDaz Dillinger\n(Don't step up, unless you want to get hurt)\nBreak it down, break it down\nHuh\n(mixed with Battlecat's scratching)\nMotherfuccas can't fade this shit","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Step Up\n  artist: Kurupt\n  album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha [Clean]\n  duration_ms: 292000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Daz:\n  Aw yeah!\n  Right about now it's time to get busy\n  Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n  (Wait a minute, um)\n  Crooked I:\n  This is the art of, manslaughter\n  When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  You entered the wrong scuffle\n  You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  Deliver the sick verbals\n  My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,\n  your body spin around, in six circles\n  Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  Freezin g's in your legion\n  Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  It's all about Crooked\n  These bitches shout Crooked\n  I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n  Daz:\n  Motherfuccers can you dig that, huh?\n  Can you fucc with this?\n  Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up\n  y'all don't want to see none of this west coast MC shit\n  Yeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!\n  Kurupt:\n  Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  The storm, my vocals float like arts\n  In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  With audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker\n  Up against the microphone night stalker\n  With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  As you can see I continue mashin' MCs\n  Caboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  In effect, get infected\n  Tell me what the fucc you expected\n  These venomous injections\n  I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  From these poisenous melodies and selections\n  I select the methods of slow anguish\n  I mangle shit with my language\n  Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  With the microphone\n  In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  So don't compare me to none\n  Not one's nearly\n  Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  with no knowledge on how to rock\n  Daz:\n  Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house\n  Alkaholiks!\n  Xzibit:\n  When I was enlisted\n  I came to the table double fisted\n  Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  Make niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy\n  It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run\n  See we do it how it can't be done\n  I'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won\n  Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  You can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street\n  Ready to repeat, round after after round at you\n  All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  I found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine\n  I own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes\n  Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  My Dogg Kurupt\n  Daz:\n  Yeah, no shit\n  Yeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  Battlecat\n  (Don't step up)\n  Right, right\n  (Don't step up, unles you want to get hurt)\n  Huh, huh, huh\n  (Get get get get hurt)\n  Whatcha say\n  Motherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle\n  (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  Daz Dillinger\n  (Don't step up, unless you want to get hurt)\n  Break it down, break it down\n  Huh\n  (mixed with Battlecat's scratching)\n  Motherfuccas can't fade this shit\n"},{"id":39147431,"name":"Step Up","trackName":"Step Up","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Streets iz a Mutha","duration":292.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Daz:\nAw yeah!\nRight about now it's time to get busy\nHuh, straight out the box, nonstop\nKurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n(Wait a minute, um)\nCrooked I:\nThis is the art of, manslaughter\nWhen I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\nYou entered the wrong scuffle\nYou catchin' a chrome buckle\nI uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\nDeliver the sick verbals\nMy shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,\nyour body spin around, in six circles\nDiminishin' infamous menaces\nI'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\nLyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\nFreezin g's in your legion\nFreakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\nIt's all about Crooked\nThese bitches shout Crooked\nI'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\nI own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\nWhen I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\nI load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\nNow that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\nDaz:\nMotherfuccers can you dig that, huh?\nCan you fucc with this?\nLet's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up\ny'all don't want to see none of this west coast MC shit\nYeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!\nKurupt:\nTerror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\nThe storm, my vocals float like arts\nIn the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\nMy microphone massacres every year the same time\nWith audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker\nUp against the microphone night stalker\nWith a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\nAs you can see I continue mashin' MCs\nCaboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer\nExtra-terrestrial microphone terror\nIn effect, get infected\nTell me what the fucc you expected\nThese venomous injections\nI leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\nFrom these poisenous melodies and selections\nI select the methods of slow anguish\nI mangle shit with my language\nTell me, have you ever seen one elope\nWith the microphone\nIn a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\nBaboom, alone in my own zone\nSo don't compare me to none\nNot one's nearly\nSevere, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\nNear me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\nSincerely, I could have the spot locked\nNiggas get stoned for touching microphones\nwith no knowledge on how to rock\nDaz:\nYeah, back in effect, it don't stop\nTurn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\nWe fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\nGot my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house\nAlkaholiks!\nXzibit:\nWhen I was enlisted\nI came to the table double fisted\nSadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\nBust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\nMake niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy\nIt'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\nAct like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run\nSee we do it how it can't be done\nI'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won\nOr direct descendant of the gatling gun\nDon't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\nThat ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\nYou can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street\nReady to repeat, round after after round at you\nAll hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\nI found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine\nI own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes\nCross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\nI'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\nIt's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\nCan't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\nMy Dogg Kurupt\nDaz:\nYeah, no shit\nYeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nWest coast, we been doin' this shit for years\nain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\nBattlecat\n(Don't step up)\nRight, right\n(Don't step up, unles you want to get hurt)\nHuh, huh, huh\n(Get get get get hurt)\nWhatcha say\nMotherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle\n(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nDaz Dillinger\n(Don't step up, unless you want to get hurt)\nBreak it down, break it down\nHuh\n(mixed with Battlecat's scratching)\nMotherfuccas can't fade this shit","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Step Up\n  artist: Kurupt\n  album: Streets iz a Mutha\n  duration_ms: 292000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Daz:\n  Aw yeah!\n  Right about now it's time to get busy\n  Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n  (Wait a minute, um)\n  Crooked I:\n  This is the art of, manslaughter\n  When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  You entered the wrong scuffle\n  You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  Deliver the sick verbals\n  My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground,\n  your body spin around, in six circles\n  Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  Freezin g's in your legion\n  Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  It's all about Crooked\n  These bitches shout Crooked\n  I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n  Daz:\n  Motherfuccers can you dig that, huh?\n  Can you fucc with this?\n  Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up\n  y'all don't want to see none of this west coast MC shit\n  Yeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?!\n  Kurupt:\n  Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  The storm, my vocals float like arts\n  In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  With audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker\n  Up against the microphone night stalker\n  With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  As you can see I continue mashin' MCs\n  Caboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  In effect, get infected\n  Tell me what the fucc you expected\n  These venomous injections\n  I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  From these poisenous melodies and selections\n  I select the methods of slow anguish\n  I mangle shit with my language\n  Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  With the microphone\n  In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  So don't compare me to none\n  Not one's nearly\n  Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  with no knowledge on how to rock\n  Daz:\n  Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house\n  Alkaholiks!\n  Xzibit:\n  When I was enlisted\n  I came to the table double fisted\n  Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  Make niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy\n  It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run\n  See we do it how it can't be done\n  I'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won\n  Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  You can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street\n  Ready to repeat, round after after round at you\n  All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  I found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine\n  I own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes\n  Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  My Dogg Kurupt\n  Daz:\n  Yeah, no shit\n  Yeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  Battlecat\n  (Don't step up)\n  Right, right\n  (Don't step up, unles you want to get hurt)\n  Huh, huh, huh\n  (Get get get get hurt)\n  Whatcha say\n  Motherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle\n  (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  Daz Dillinger\n  (Don't step up, unless you want to get hurt)\n  Break it down, break it down\n  Huh\n  (mixed with Battlecat's scratching)\n  Motherfuccas can't fade this shit\n"},{"id":34076628,"name":"Step Up feat. Crooked I & Xzibit","trackName":"Step Up feat. Crooked I & Xzibit","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha","duration":293.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Aw yeah!\nRight about now it's time to get busy\nHuh, straight out the box, nonstop\nKurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\nThis is the art of, manslaughter\nWhen I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\nYou entered the wrong scuffle\nYou catchin' a chrome buckle\nI uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\nDeliver the sick verbals\nMy shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\nYour body spin around, in six circles\nDiminishin' infamous menaces\nI'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\nLyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\nFreezin g's in your legion\nFreakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\nIt's all about Crooked\nThese bitches shout Crooked\nI'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\nI own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\nWhen I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\nI load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\nNow that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\nMotherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\nCan you fuck with this?\nLet's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\nY'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\nYeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\nTerror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\nThe storm, my vocals float like arks\nIn the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\nMy microphone massacres every year the same time\nWith audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\nUp against the microphone night stalker\nWith a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\nAs you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\nThe room gets cleared as my views get clearer\nExtra-terrestrial microphone terror\nIn effect, get infected\nTell me what the fuck you expected\nThese venemous injections\nI leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\nFrom these poisonous melodies and selections\nI select the methods of slow anguish\nI mangle shit with my language\nTell me, have you ever seen one elope\nWith the microphone\nIn a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\nBaboom, alone in my own zone\nSo don't compare me to none\nNot one's nearly\nSevere, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\nNear me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\nSincerely, I could have the spot locked\nNiggas get stoned for touching microphones\nWith no knowledge on how to rock\n\nYeah, back in effect, it don't stop\nTurn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\nWe fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\nGot my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\nAlkaholiks!\n\nWhen I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\nSadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\nBust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\nMake niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\nIt'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\nAct like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\nSee we do it how it can't be done\nI'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\nOr direct descendant of the gatling gun\nDon't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\nThat ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\nYou can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\nReady to repeat, round after round at you\nAll hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\nI found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\nI own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\nCross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\nI'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\nIt's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\nCan't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\nMy Dogg Kurupt\n\nYeah, no shit\nYeah, y'all can't fuck with that\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nWest coast, we been doin' this shit for years\nAin't nothin' happenin' wit' that\nBattlecat\n(Don't step up)\nRight, right\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nHuh, huh, huh\n\n(Get get get get hurt)\nWhatcha say?\nMotherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nDaz Dillinger\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nBreak it down, break it down\nHuh\n\nMotherfuckers can't fade this shit","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.37] Aw yeah!\n[00:01.89] Right about now it's time to get busy\n[00:05.77] Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n[00:10.60] Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n[00:15.44] This is the art of, manslaughter\n[00:17.51] When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n[00:20.62] You entered the wrong scuffle\n[00:22.29] You catchin' a chrome buckle\n[00:23.41] I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n[00:25.92] Deliver the sick verbals\n[00:27.41] My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n[00:29.54] Your body spin around, in six circles\n[00:31.25] Diminishin' infamous menaces\n[00:32.91] I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n[00:35.53] Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n[00:37.63] Freezin g's in your legion\n[00:38.96] Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n[00:40.93] It's all about Crooked\n[00:42.57] These bitches shout Crooked\n[00:43.90] I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n[00:46.40] I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n[00:48.85] When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n[00:51.69] I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n[00:54.30] Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n[00:56.86] Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n[01:01.75] Can you fuck with this?\n[01:04.04] Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n[01:07.24] Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n[01:12.15] Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n[01:17.09] Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n[01:19.75] The storm, my vocals float like arks\n[01:22.32] In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n[01:24.97] My microphone massacres every year the same time\n[01:27.13] With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n[01:31.82] Up against the microphone night stalker\n[01:33.05] With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n[01:35.36] As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n[01:37.88] The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n[01:40.59] Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n[01:43.08] In effect, get infected\n[01:44.33] Tell me what the fuck you expected\n[01:46.72] These venemous injections\n[01:48.49] I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n[01:50.78] From these poisonous melodies and selections\n[01:53.41] I select the methods of slow anguish\n[01:55.90] I mangle shit with my language\n[01:57.66] Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n[02:00.14] With the microphone\n[02:01.37] In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n[02:03.62] Baboom, alone in my own zone\n[02:05.95] So don't compare me to none\n[02:07.85] Not one's nearly\n[02:09.19] Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n[02:11.78] Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n[02:15.06] Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n[02:17.17] Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n[02:18.66] With no knowledge on how to rock\n[02:20.02] Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n[02:22.61] Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n[02:26.96] We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n[02:30.45] Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n[02:33.79] Alkaholiks!\n[02:35.25] When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n[02:37.60] Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n[02:40.03] Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n[02:42.59] Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n[02:45.33] It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n[02:48.28] Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n[02:50.66] See we do it how it can't be done\n[02:52.93] I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n[02:55.47] Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n[02:58.07] Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n[03:00.35] That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n[03:02.97] You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n[03:05.57] Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n[03:08.45] All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n[03:10.76] I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n[03:13.32] I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n[03:16.29] Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n[03:18.84] I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n[03:21.25] It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n[03:23.74] Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n[03:26.38] My Dogg Kurupt\n[03:27.43] Yeah, no shit\n[03:30.32] Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n[03:38.24] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[03:40.50] West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n[03:44.38] Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n[03:45.87] Battlecat\n[03:47.22] (Don't step up)\n[03:50.93] Right, right\n[03:54.73] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[03:57.72] Huh, huh, huh\n[03:58.99] (Get get get get hurt)\n[04:00.32] Whatcha say?\n[04:02.74] Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n[04:05.48] (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n[04:07.16] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[04:14.73] Daz Dillinger\n[04:16.02] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[04:19.88] Break it down, break it down\n[04:23.19] Huh\n[04:40.00] Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n[04:41.93] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Step Up feat. Crooked I & Xzibit\n  artist: Kurupt\n  album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha\n  duration_ms: 293000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Aw yeah!\n  start_ms: 370\n  end_ms: 1890\n- text: Right about now it's time to get busy\n  start_ms: 1890\n  end_ms: 5770\n- text: Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  start_ms: 5770\n  end_ms: 10600\n- text: Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n  start_ms: 10600\n  end_ms: 15440\n- text: This is the art of, manslaughter\n  start_ms: 15440\n  end_ms: 17510\n- text: When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  start_ms: 17510\n  end_ms: 20620\n- text: You entered the wrong scuffle\n  start_ms: 20620\n  end_ms: 22290\n- text: You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  start_ms: 22290\n  end_ms: 23410\n- text: I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  start_ms: 23410\n  end_ms: 25920\n- text: Deliver the sick verbals\n  start_ms: 25920\n  end_ms: 27410\n- text: My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  start_ms: 27410\n  end_ms: 29540\n- text: Your body spin around, in six circles\n  start_ms: 29540\n  end_ms: 31250\n- text: Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  start_ms: 31250\n  end_ms: 32910\n- text: I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  start_ms: 32910\n  end_ms: 35530\n- text: Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  start_ms: 35530\n  end_ms: 37630\n- text: Freezin g's in your legion\n  start_ms: 37630\n  end_ms: 38960\n- text: Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  start_ms: 38960\n  end_ms: 40930\n- text: It's all about Crooked\n  start_ms: 40930\n  end_ms: 42570\n- text: These bitches shout Crooked\n  start_ms: 42570\n  end_ms: 43900\n- text: I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  start_ms: 43900\n  end_ms: 46400\n- text: I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  start_ms: 46400\n  end_ms: 48850\n- text: When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  start_ms: 48850\n  end_ms: 51690\n- text: I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  start_ms: 51690\n  end_ms: 54300\n- text: Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n  start_ms: 54300\n  end_ms: 56860\n- text: Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  start_ms: 56860\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Can you fuck with this?\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64040\n- text: Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  start_ms: 64040\n  end_ms: 67240\n- text: Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  start_ms: 67240\n  end_ms: 72150\n- text: Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n  start_ms: 72150\n  end_ms: 77090\n- text: Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  start_ms: 77090\n  end_ms: 79750\n- text: The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  start_ms: 79750\n  end_ms: 82320\n- text: In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  start_ms: 82320\n  end_ms: 84970\n- text: My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  start_ms: 84970\n  end_ms: 87130\n- text: With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  start_ms: 87130\n  end_ms: 91820\n- text: Up against the microphone night stalker\n  start_ms: 91820\n  end_ms: 93050\n- text: With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  start_ms: 93050\n  end_ms: 95360\n- text: As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  start_ms: 95360\n  end_ms: 97880\n- text: The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  start_ms: 97880\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 103080\n- text: In effect, get infected\n  start_ms: 103080\n  end_ms: 104330\n- text: Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  start_ms: 104330\n  end_ms: 106720\n- text: These venemous injections\n  start_ms: 106720\n  end_ms: 108490\n- text: I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  start_ms: 108490\n  end_ms: 110780\n- text: From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  start_ms: 110780\n  end_ms: 113410\n- text: I select the methods of slow anguish\n  start_ms: 113410\n  end_ms: 115900\n- text: I mangle shit with my language\n  start_ms: 115900\n  end_ms: 117660\n- text: Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  start_ms: 117660\n  end_ms: 120140\n- text: With the microphone\n  start_ms: 120140\n  end_ms: 121370\n- text: In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  start_ms: 121370\n  end_ms: 123620\n- text: Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  start_ms: 123620\n  end_ms: 125950\n- text: So don't compare me to none\n  start_ms: 125950\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: Not one's nearly\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 129190\n- text: Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  start_ms: 129190\n  end_ms: 131780\n- text: Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  start_ms: 131780\n  end_ms: 135060\n- text: Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  start_ms: 135060\n  end_ms: 137170\n- text: Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  start_ms: 137170\n  end_ms: 138660\n- text: With no knowledge on how to rock\n  start_ms: 138660\n  end_ms: 140020\n- text: Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  start_ms: 140020\n  end_ms: 142610\n- text: Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  start_ms: 142610\n  end_ms: 146960\n- text: We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  start_ms: 146960\n  end_ms: 150450\n- text: Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  start_ms: 150450\n  end_ms: 153790\n- text: Alkaholiks!\n  start_ms: 153790\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 157600\n- text: Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  start_ms: 157600\n  end_ms: 160030\n- text: Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  start_ms: 160030\n  end_ms: 162590\n- text: Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  start_ms: 162590\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 168280\n- text: Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  start_ms: 168280\n  end_ms: 170660\n- text: See we do it how it can't be done\n  start_ms: 170660\n  end_ms: 172930\n- text: I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  start_ms: 172930\n  end_ms: 175470\n- text: Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  start_ms: 175470\n  end_ms: 178070\n- text: Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  start_ms: 178070\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 182970\n- text: You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  start_ms: 182970\n  end_ms: 185570\n- text: Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  start_ms: 185570\n  end_ms: 188450\n- text: All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  start_ms: 188450\n  end_ms: 190760\n- text: I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  start_ms: 190760\n  end_ms: 193320\n- text: I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  start_ms: 193320\n  end_ms: 196290\n- text: Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  start_ms: 196290\n  end_ms: 198840\n- text: I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  start_ms: 198840\n  end_ms: 201250\n- text: It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  start_ms: 201250\n  end_ms: 203740\n- text: Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  start_ms: 203740\n  end_ms: 206380\n- text: My Dogg Kurupt\n  start_ms: 206380\n  end_ms: 207430\n- text: Yeah, no shit\n  start_ms: 207430\n  end_ms: 210320\n- text: Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  start_ms: 210320\n  end_ms: 218240\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 218240\n  end_ms: 220500\n- text: West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  start_ms: 220500\n  end_ms: 224380\n- text: Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  start_ms: 224380\n  end_ms: 225870\n- text: Battlecat\n  start_ms: 225870\n  end_ms: 227220\n- text: (Don't step up)\n  start_ms: 227220\n  end_ms: 230930\n- text: Right, right\n  start_ms: 230930\n  end_ms: 234730\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 234730\n  end_ms: 237720\n- text: Huh, huh, huh\n  start_ms: 237720\n  end_ms: 238990\n- text: (Get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 238990\n  end_ms: 240320\n- text: Whatcha say?\n  start_ms: 240320\n  end_ms: 242740\n- text: Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  start_ms: 242740\n  end_ms: 245480\n- text: (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 245480\n  end_ms: 247160\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 247160\n  end_ms: 254730\n- text: Daz Dillinger\n  start_ms: 254730\n  end_ms: 256020\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 256020\n  end_ms: 259880\n- text: Break it down, break it down\n  start_ms: 259880\n  end_ms: 263190\n- text: Huh\n  start_ms: 263190\n  end_ms: 280000\n- text: Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n  start_ms: 280000\n  end_ms: 281930\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 281930\nplain: |-\n  Aw yeah!\n  Right about now it's time to get busy\n  Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\n  This is the art of, manslaughter\n  When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  You entered the wrong scuffle\n  You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  Deliver the sick verbals\n  My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  Your body spin around, in six circles\n  Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  Freezin g's in your legion\n  Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  It's all about Crooked\n  These bitches shout Crooked\n  I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\n  Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  Can you fuck with this?\n  Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\n  Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  Up against the microphone night stalker\n  With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  In effect, get infected\n  Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  These venemous injections\n  I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  I select the methods of slow anguish\n  I mangle shit with my language\n  Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  With the microphone\n  In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  So don't compare me to none\n  Not one's nearly\n  Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  With no knowledge on how to rock\n\n  Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  Alkaholiks!\n\n  When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  See we do it how it can't be done\n  I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  My Dogg Kurupt\n\n  Yeah, no shit\n  Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  Battlecat\n  (Don't step up)\n  Right, right\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Huh, huh, huh\n\n  (Get get get get hurt)\n  Whatcha say?\n  Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  Daz Dillinger\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Break it down, break it down\n  Huh\n\n  Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n"},{"id":39495761,"name":"Step Up","trackName":"Step Up","artistName":"Kurupt feat. Crooked I & Xzibit","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha","duration":293.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Aw yeah!\nRight about now it's time to get busy\nHuh, straight out the box, nonstop\nKurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\nThis is the art of, manslaughter\nWhen I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\nYou entered the wrong scuffle\nYou catchin' a chrome buckle\nI uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\nDeliver the sick verbals\nMy shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\nYour body spin around, in six circles\nDiminishin' infamous menaces\nI'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\nLyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\nFreezin g's in your legion\nFreakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\nIt's all about Crooked\nThese bitches shout Crooked\nI'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\nI own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\nWhen I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\nI load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\nNow that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\nMotherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\nCan you fuck with this?\nLet's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\nY'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\nYeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\nTerror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\nThe storm, my vocals float like arks\nIn the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\nMy microphone massacres every year the same time\nWith audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\nUp against the microphone night stalker\nWith a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\nAs you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\nThe room gets cleared as my views get clearer\nExtra-terrestrial microphone terror\nIn effect, get infected\nTell me what the fuck you expected\nThese venemous injections\nI leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\nFrom these poisonous melodies and selections\nI select the methods of slow anguish\nI mangle shit with my language\nTell me, have you ever seen one elope\nWith the microphone\nIn a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\nBaboom, alone in my own zone\nSo don't compare me to none\nNot one's nearly\nSevere, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\nNear me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\nSincerely, I could have the spot locked\nNiggas get stoned for touching microphones\nWith no knowledge on how to rock\n\nYeah, back in effect, it don't stop\nTurn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\nWe fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\nGot my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\nAlkaholiks!\n\nWhen I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\nSadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\nBust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\nMake niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\nIt'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\nAct like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\nSee we do it how it can't be done\nI'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\nOr direct descendant of the gatling gun\nDon't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\nThat ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\nYou can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\nReady to repeat, round after round at you\nAll hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\nI found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\nI own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\nCross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\nI'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\nIt's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\nCan't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\nMy Dogg Kurupt\n\nYeah, no shit\nYeah, y'all can't fuck with that\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nWest coast, we been doin' this shit for years\nAin't nothin' happenin' wit' that\nBattlecat\n(Don't step up)\nRight, right\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nHuh, huh, huh\n\n(Get get get get hurt)\nWhatcha say?\nMotherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nDaz Dillinger\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nBreak it down, break it down\nHuh\n\nMotherfuckers can't fade this shit","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.37] Aw yeah!\n[00:01.89] Right about now it's time to get busy\n[00:05.77] Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n[00:10.60] Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n[00:15.44] This is the art of, manslaughter\n[00:17.51] When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n[00:20.62] You entered the wrong scuffle\n[00:22.29] You catchin' a chrome buckle\n[00:23.41] I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n[00:25.92] Deliver the sick verbals\n[00:27.41] My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n[00:29.54] Your body spin around, in six circles\n[00:31.25] Diminishin' infamous menaces\n[00:32.91] I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n[00:35.53] Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n[00:37.63] Freezin g's in your legion\n[00:38.96] Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n[00:40.93] It's all about Crooked\n[00:42.57] These bitches shout Crooked\n[00:43.90] I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n[00:46.40] I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n[00:48.85] When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n[00:51.69] I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n[00:54.30] Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n[00:56.86] Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n[01:01.75] Can you fuck with this?\n[01:04.04] Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n[01:07.24] Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n[01:12.15] Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n[01:17.09] Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n[01:19.75] The storm, my vocals float like arks\n[01:22.32] In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n[01:24.97] My microphone massacres every year the same time\n[01:27.13] With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n[01:31.82] Up against the microphone night stalker\n[01:33.05] With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n[01:35.36] As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n[01:37.88] The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n[01:40.59] Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n[01:43.08] In effect, get infected\n[01:44.33] Tell me what the fuck you expected\n[01:46.72] These venemous injections\n[01:48.49] I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n[01:50.78] From these poisonous melodies and selections\n[01:53.41] I select the methods of slow anguish\n[01:55.90] I mangle shit with my language\n[01:57.66] Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n[02:00.14] With the microphone\n[02:01.37] In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n[02:03.62] Baboom, alone in my own zone\n[02:05.95] So don't compare me to none\n[02:07.85] Not one's nearly\n[02:09.19] Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n[02:11.78] Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n[02:15.06] Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n[02:17.17] Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n[02:18.66] With no knowledge on how to rock\n[02:20.02] Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n[02:22.61] Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n[02:26.96] We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n[02:30.45] Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n[02:33.79] Alkaholiks!\n[02:35.25] When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n[02:37.60] Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n[02:40.03] Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n[02:42.59] Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n[02:45.33] It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n[02:48.28] Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n[02:50.66] See we do it how it can't be done\n[02:52.93] I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n[02:55.47] Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n[02:58.07] Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n[03:00.35] That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n[03:02.97] You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n[03:05.57] Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n[03:08.45] All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n[03:10.76] I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n[03:13.32] I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n[03:16.29] Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n[03:18.84] I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n[03:21.25] It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n[03:23.74] Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n[03:26.38] My Dogg Kurupt\n[03:27.43] Yeah, no shit\n[03:30.32] Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n[03:38.24] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[03:40.50] West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n[03:44.38] Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n[03:45.87] Battlecat\n[03:47.22] (Don't step up)\n[03:50.93] Right, right\n[03:54.73] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[03:57.72] Huh, huh, huh\n[03:58.99] (Get get get get hurt)\n[04:00.32] Whatcha say?\n[04:02.74] Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n[04:05.48] (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n[04:07.16] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[04:14.73] Daz Dillinger\n[04:16.02] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[04:19.88] Break it down, break it down\n[04:23.19] Huh\n[04:40.00] Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n[04:41.93] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Step Up\n  artist: Kurupt feat. Crooked I & Xzibit\n  album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha\n  duration_ms: 293093\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Aw yeah!\n  start_ms: 370\n  end_ms: 1890\n- text: Right about now it's time to get busy\n  start_ms: 1890\n  end_ms: 5770\n- text: Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  start_ms: 5770\n  end_ms: 10600\n- text: Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n  start_ms: 10600\n  end_ms: 15440\n- text: This is the art of, manslaughter\n  start_ms: 15440\n  end_ms: 17510\n- text: When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  start_ms: 17510\n  end_ms: 20620\n- text: You entered the wrong scuffle\n  start_ms: 20620\n  end_ms: 22290\n- text: You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  start_ms: 22290\n  end_ms: 23410\n- text: I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  start_ms: 23410\n  end_ms: 25920\n- text: Deliver the sick verbals\n  start_ms: 25920\n  end_ms: 27410\n- text: My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  start_ms: 27410\n  end_ms: 29540\n- text: Your body spin around, in six circles\n  start_ms: 29540\n  end_ms: 31250\n- text: Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  start_ms: 31250\n  end_ms: 32910\n- text: I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  start_ms: 32910\n  end_ms: 35530\n- text: Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  start_ms: 35530\n  end_ms: 37630\n- text: Freezin g's in your legion\n  start_ms: 37630\n  end_ms: 38960\n- text: Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  start_ms: 38960\n  end_ms: 40930\n- text: It's all about Crooked\n  start_ms: 40930\n  end_ms: 42570\n- text: These bitches shout Crooked\n  start_ms: 42570\n  end_ms: 43900\n- text: I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  start_ms: 43900\n  end_ms: 46400\n- text: I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  start_ms: 46400\n  end_ms: 48850\n- text: When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  start_ms: 48850\n  end_ms: 51690\n- text: I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  start_ms: 51690\n  end_ms: 54300\n- text: Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n  start_ms: 54300\n  end_ms: 56860\n- text: Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  start_ms: 56860\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Can you fuck with this?\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64040\n- text: Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  start_ms: 64040\n  end_ms: 67240\n- text: Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  start_ms: 67240\n  end_ms: 72150\n- text: Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n  start_ms: 72150\n  end_ms: 77090\n- text: Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  start_ms: 77090\n  end_ms: 79750\n- text: The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  start_ms: 79750\n  end_ms: 82320\n- text: In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  start_ms: 82320\n  end_ms: 84970\n- text: My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  start_ms: 84970\n  end_ms: 87130\n- text: With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  start_ms: 87130\n  end_ms: 91820\n- text: Up against the microphone night stalker\n  start_ms: 91820\n  end_ms: 93050\n- text: With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  start_ms: 93050\n  end_ms: 95360\n- text: As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  start_ms: 95360\n  end_ms: 97880\n- text: The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  start_ms: 97880\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 103080\n- text: In effect, get infected\n  start_ms: 103080\n  end_ms: 104330\n- text: Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  start_ms: 104330\n  end_ms: 106720\n- text: These venemous injections\n  start_ms: 106720\n  end_ms: 108490\n- text: I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  start_ms: 108490\n  end_ms: 110780\n- text: From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  start_ms: 110780\n  end_ms: 113410\n- text: I select the methods of slow anguish\n  start_ms: 113410\n  end_ms: 115900\n- text: I mangle shit with my language\n  start_ms: 115900\n  end_ms: 117660\n- text: Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  start_ms: 117660\n  end_ms: 120140\n- text: With the microphone\n  start_ms: 120140\n  end_ms: 121370\n- text: In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  start_ms: 121370\n  end_ms: 123620\n- text: Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  start_ms: 123620\n  end_ms: 125950\n- text: So don't compare me to none\n  start_ms: 125950\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: Not one's nearly\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 129190\n- text: Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  start_ms: 129190\n  end_ms: 131780\n- text: Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  start_ms: 131780\n  end_ms: 135060\n- text: Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  start_ms: 135060\n  end_ms: 137170\n- text: Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  start_ms: 137170\n  end_ms: 138660\n- text: With no knowledge on how to rock\n  start_ms: 138660\n  end_ms: 140020\n- text: Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  start_ms: 140020\n  end_ms: 142610\n- text: Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  start_ms: 142610\n  end_ms: 146960\n- text: We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  start_ms: 146960\n  end_ms: 150450\n- text: Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  start_ms: 150450\n  end_ms: 153790\n- text: Alkaholiks!\n  start_ms: 153790\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 157600\n- text: Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  start_ms: 157600\n  end_ms: 160030\n- text: Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  start_ms: 160030\n  end_ms: 162590\n- text: Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  start_ms: 162590\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 168280\n- text: Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  start_ms: 168280\n  end_ms: 170660\n- text: See we do it how it can't be done\n  start_ms: 170660\n  end_ms: 172930\n- text: I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  start_ms: 172930\n  end_ms: 175470\n- text: Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  start_ms: 175470\n  end_ms: 178070\n- text: Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  start_ms: 178070\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 182970\n- text: You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  start_ms: 182970\n  end_ms: 185570\n- text: Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  start_ms: 185570\n  end_ms: 188450\n- text: All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  start_ms: 188450\n  end_ms: 190760\n- text: I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  start_ms: 190760\n  end_ms: 193320\n- text: I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  start_ms: 193320\n  end_ms: 196290\n- text: Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  start_ms: 196290\n  end_ms: 198840\n- text: I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  start_ms: 198840\n  end_ms: 201250\n- text: It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  start_ms: 201250\n  end_ms: 203740\n- text: Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  start_ms: 203740\n  end_ms: 206380\n- text: My Dogg Kurupt\n  start_ms: 206380\n  end_ms: 207430\n- text: Yeah, no shit\n  start_ms: 207430\n  end_ms: 210320\n- text: Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  start_ms: 210320\n  end_ms: 218240\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 218240\n  end_ms: 220500\n- text: West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  start_ms: 220500\n  end_ms: 224380\n- text: Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  start_ms: 224380\n  end_ms: 225870\n- text: Battlecat\n  start_ms: 225870\n  end_ms: 227220\n- text: (Don't step up)\n  start_ms: 227220\n  end_ms: 230930\n- text: Right, right\n  start_ms: 230930\n  end_ms: 234730\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 234730\n  end_ms: 237720\n- text: Huh, huh, huh\n  start_ms: 237720\n  end_ms: 238990\n- text: (Get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 238990\n  end_ms: 240320\n- text: Whatcha say?\n  start_ms: 240320\n  end_ms: 242740\n- text: Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  start_ms: 242740\n  end_ms: 245480\n- text: (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 245480\n  end_ms: 247160\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 247160\n  end_ms: 254730\n- text: Daz Dillinger\n  start_ms: 254730\n  end_ms: 256020\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 256020\n  end_ms: 259880\n- text: Break it down, break it down\n  start_ms: 259880\n  end_ms: 263190\n- text: Huh\n  start_ms: 263190\n  end_ms: 280000\n- text: Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n  start_ms: 280000\n  end_ms: 281930\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 281930\nplain: |-\n  Aw yeah!\n  Right about now it's time to get busy\n  Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\n  This is the art of, manslaughter\n  When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  You entered the wrong scuffle\n  You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  Deliver the sick verbals\n  My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  Your body spin around, in six circles\n  Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  Freezin g's in your legion\n  Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  It's all about Crooked\n  These bitches shout Crooked\n  I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\n  Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  Can you fuck with this?\n  Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\n  Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  Up against the microphone night stalker\n  With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  In effect, get infected\n  Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  These venemous injections\n  I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  I select the methods of slow anguish\n  I mangle shit with my language\n  Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  With the microphone\n  In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  So don't compare me to none\n  Not one's nearly\n  Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  With no knowledge on how to rock\n\n  Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  Alkaholiks!\n\n  When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  See we do it how it can't be done\n  I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  My Dogg Kurupt\n\n  Yeah, no shit\n  Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  Battlecat\n  (Don't step up)\n  Right, right\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Huh, huh, huh\n\n  (Get get get get hurt)\n  Whatcha say?\n  Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  Daz Dillinger\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Break it down, break it down\n  Huh\n\n  Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n"},{"id":19812575,"name":"Step Up","trackName":"Step Up","artistName":"Crooked I & Xzibit & Kurupt & DJ Battlecat & Daz Dillinger","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha (Digitally Remastered)","duration":293.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Aw yeah!\nRight about now it's time to get busy\nHuh, straight out the box, nonstop\nKurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\nThis is the art of, manslaughter\nWhen I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\nYou entered the wrong scuffle\nYou catchin' a chrome buckle\nI uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\nDeliver the sick verbals\nMy shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\nYour body spin around, in six circles\nDiminishin' infamous menaces\nI'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\nLyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\nFreezin g's in your legion\nFreakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\nIt's all about Crooked\nThese bitches shout Crooked\nI'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\nI own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\nWhen I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\nI load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\nNow that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\nMotherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\nCan you fuck with this?\nLet's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\nY'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\nYeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\nTerror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\nThe storm, my vocals float like arks\nIn the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\nMy microphone massacres every year the same time\nWith audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\nUp against the microphone night stalker\nWith a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\nAs you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\nThe room gets cleared as my views get clearer\nExtra-terrestrial microphone terror\nIn effect, get infected\nTell me what the fuck you expected\nThese venemous injections\nI leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\nFrom these poisonous melodies and selections\nI select the methods of slow anguish\nI mangle shit with my language\nTell me, have you ever seen one elope\nWith the microphone\nIn a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\nBaboom, alone in my own zone\nSo don't compare me to none\nNot one's nearly\nSevere, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\nNear me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\nSincerely, I could have the spot locked\nNiggas get stoned for touching microphones\nWith no knowledge on how to rock\n\nYeah, back in effect, it don't stop\nTurn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\nWe fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\nGot my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\nAlkaholiks!\n\nWhen I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\nSadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\nBust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\nMake niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\nIt'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\nAct like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\nSee we do it how it can't be done\nI'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\nOr direct descendant of the gatling gun\nDon't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\nThat ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\nYou can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\nReady to repeat, round after round at you\nAll hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\nI found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\nI own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\nCross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\nI'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\nIt's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\nCan't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\nMy Dogg Kurupt\n\nYeah, no shit\nYeah, y'all can't fuck with that\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nWest coast, we been doin' this shit for years\nAin't nothin' happenin' wit' that\nBattlecat\n(Don't step up)\nRight, right\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nHuh, huh, huh\n\n(Get get get get hurt)\nWhatcha say?\nMotherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nDaz Dillinger\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nBreak it down, break it down\nHuh\n\nMotherfuckers can't fade this shit","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.37] Aw yeah!\n[00:01.89] Right about now it's time to get busy\n[00:05.77] Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n[00:10.60] Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n[00:15.44] This is the art of, manslaughter\n[00:17.51] When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n[00:20.62] You entered the wrong scuffle\n[00:22.29] You catchin' a chrome buckle\n[00:23.41] I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n[00:25.92] Deliver the sick verbals\n[00:27.41] My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n[00:29.54] Your body spin around, in six circles\n[00:31.25] Diminishin' infamous menaces\n[00:32.91] I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n[00:35.53] Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n[00:37.63] Freezin g's in your legion\n[00:38.96] Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n[00:40.93] It's all about Crooked\n[00:42.57] These bitches shout Crooked\n[00:43.90] I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n[00:46.40] I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n[00:48.85] When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n[00:51.69] I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n[00:54.30] Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n[00:56.86] Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n[01:01.75] Can you fuck with this?\n[01:04.04] Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n[01:07.24] Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n[01:12.15] Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n[01:17.09] Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n[01:19.75] The storm, my vocals float like arks\n[01:22.32] In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n[01:24.97] My microphone massacres every year the same time\n[01:27.13] With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n[01:31.82] Up against the microphone night stalker\n[01:33.05] With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n[01:35.36] As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n[01:37.88] The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n[01:40.59] Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n[01:43.08] In effect, get infected\n[01:44.33] Tell me what the fuck you expected\n[01:46.72] These venemous injections\n[01:48.49] I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n[01:50.78] From these poisonous melodies and selections\n[01:53.41] I select the methods of slow anguish\n[01:55.90] I mangle shit with my language\n[01:57.66] Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n[02:00.14] With the microphone\n[02:01.37] In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n[02:03.62] Baboom, alone in my own zone\n[02:05.95] So don't compare me to none\n[02:07.85] Not one's nearly\n[02:09.19] Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n[02:11.78] Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n[02:15.06] Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n[02:17.17] Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n[02:18.66] With no knowledge on how to rock\n[02:20.02] Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n[02:22.61] Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n[02:26.96] We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n[02:30.45] Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n[02:33.79] Alkaholiks!\n[02:35.25] When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n[02:37.60] Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n[02:40.03] Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n[02:42.59] Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n[02:45.33] It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n[02:48.28] Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n[02:50.66] See we do it how it can't be done\n[02:52.93] I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n[02:55.47] Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n[02:58.07] Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n[03:00.35] That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n[03:02.97] You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n[03:05.57] Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n[03:08.45] All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n[03:10.76] I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n[03:13.32] I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n[03:16.29] Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n[03:18.84] I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n[03:21.25] It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n[03:23.74] Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n[03:26.38] My Dogg Kurupt\n[03:27.43] Yeah, no shit\n[03:30.32] Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n[03:38.24] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[03:40.50] West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n[03:44.38] Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n[03:45.87] Battlecat\n[03:47.22] (Don't step up)\n[03:50.93] Right, right\n[03:54.73] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[03:57.72] Huh, huh, huh\n[03:58.99] (Get get get get hurt)\n[04:00.32] Whatcha say?\n[04:02.74] Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n[04:05.48] (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n[04:07.16] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[04:14.73] Daz Dillinger\n[04:16.02] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[04:19.88] Break it down, break it down\n[04:23.19] Huh\n[04:40.00] Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n[04:41.93] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Step Up\n  artist: Crooked I & Xzibit & Kurupt & DJ Battlecat & Daz Dillinger\n  album: Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha (Digitally Remastered)\n  duration_ms: 293000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Aw yeah!\n  start_ms: 370\n  end_ms: 1890\n- text: Right about now it's time to get busy\n  start_ms: 1890\n  end_ms: 5770\n- text: Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  start_ms: 5770\n  end_ms: 10600\n- text: Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n  start_ms: 10600\n  end_ms: 15440\n- text: This is the art of, manslaughter\n  start_ms: 15440\n  end_ms: 17510\n- text: When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  start_ms: 17510\n  end_ms: 20620\n- text: You entered the wrong scuffle\n  start_ms: 20620\n  end_ms: 22290\n- text: You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  start_ms: 22290\n  end_ms: 23410\n- text: I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  start_ms: 23410\n  end_ms: 25920\n- text: Deliver the sick verbals\n  start_ms: 25920\n  end_ms: 27410\n- text: My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  start_ms: 27410\n  end_ms: 29540\n- text: Your body spin around, in six circles\n  start_ms: 29540\n  end_ms: 31250\n- text: Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  start_ms: 31250\n  end_ms: 32910\n- text: I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  start_ms: 32910\n  end_ms: 35530\n- text: Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  start_ms: 35530\n  end_ms: 37630\n- text: Freezin g's in your legion\n  start_ms: 37630\n  end_ms: 38960\n- text: Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  start_ms: 38960\n  end_ms: 40930\n- text: It's all about Crooked\n  start_ms: 40930\n  end_ms: 42570\n- text: These bitches shout Crooked\n  start_ms: 42570\n  end_ms: 43900\n- text: I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  start_ms: 43900\n  end_ms: 46400\n- text: I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  start_ms: 46400\n  end_ms: 48850\n- text: When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  start_ms: 48850\n  end_ms: 51690\n- text: I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  start_ms: 51690\n  end_ms: 54300\n- text: Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n  start_ms: 54300\n  end_ms: 56860\n- text: Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  start_ms: 56860\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Can you fuck with this?\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64040\n- text: Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  start_ms: 64040\n  end_ms: 67240\n- text: Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  start_ms: 67240\n  end_ms: 72150\n- text: Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n  start_ms: 72150\n  end_ms: 77090\n- text: Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  start_ms: 77090\n  end_ms: 79750\n- text: The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  start_ms: 79750\n  end_ms: 82320\n- text: In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  start_ms: 82320\n  end_ms: 84970\n- text: My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  start_ms: 84970\n  end_ms: 87130\n- text: With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  start_ms: 87130\n  end_ms: 91820\n- text: Up against the microphone night stalker\n  start_ms: 91820\n  end_ms: 93050\n- text: With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  start_ms: 93050\n  end_ms: 95360\n- text: As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  start_ms: 95360\n  end_ms: 97880\n- text: The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  start_ms: 97880\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 103080\n- text: In effect, get infected\n  start_ms: 103080\n  end_ms: 104330\n- text: Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  start_ms: 104330\n  end_ms: 106720\n- text: These venemous injections\n  start_ms: 106720\n  end_ms: 108490\n- text: I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  start_ms: 108490\n  end_ms: 110780\n- text: From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  start_ms: 110780\n  end_ms: 113410\n- text: I select the methods of slow anguish\n  start_ms: 113410\n  end_ms: 115900\n- text: I mangle shit with my language\n  start_ms: 115900\n  end_ms: 117660\n- text: Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  start_ms: 117660\n  end_ms: 120140\n- text: With the microphone\n  start_ms: 120140\n  end_ms: 121370\n- text: In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  start_ms: 121370\n  end_ms: 123620\n- text: Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  start_ms: 123620\n  end_ms: 125950\n- text: So don't compare me to none\n  start_ms: 125950\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: Not one's nearly\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 129190\n- text: Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  start_ms: 129190\n  end_ms: 131780\n- text: Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  start_ms: 131780\n  end_ms: 135060\n- text: Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  start_ms: 135060\n  end_ms: 137170\n- text: Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  start_ms: 137170\n  end_ms: 138660\n- text: With no knowledge on how to rock\n  start_ms: 138660\n  end_ms: 140020\n- text: Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  start_ms: 140020\n  end_ms: 142610\n- text: Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  start_ms: 142610\n  end_ms: 146960\n- text: We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  start_ms: 146960\n  end_ms: 150450\n- text: Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  start_ms: 150450\n  end_ms: 153790\n- text: Alkaholiks!\n  start_ms: 153790\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 157600\n- text: Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  start_ms: 157600\n  end_ms: 160030\n- text: Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  start_ms: 160030\n  end_ms: 162590\n- text: Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  start_ms: 162590\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 168280\n- text: Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  start_ms: 168280\n  end_ms: 170660\n- text: See we do it how it can't be done\n  start_ms: 170660\n  end_ms: 172930\n- text: I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  start_ms: 172930\n  end_ms: 175470\n- text: Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  start_ms: 175470\n  end_ms: 178070\n- text: Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  start_ms: 178070\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 182970\n- text: You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  start_ms: 182970\n  end_ms: 185570\n- text: Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  start_ms: 185570\n  end_ms: 188450\n- text: All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  start_ms: 188450\n  end_ms: 190760\n- text: I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  start_ms: 190760\n  end_ms: 193320\n- text: I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  start_ms: 193320\n  end_ms: 196290\n- text: Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  start_ms: 196290\n  end_ms: 198840\n- text: I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  start_ms: 198840\n  end_ms: 201250\n- text: It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  start_ms: 201250\n  end_ms: 203740\n- text: Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  start_ms: 203740\n  end_ms: 206380\n- text: My Dogg Kurupt\n  start_ms: 206380\n  end_ms: 207430\n- text: Yeah, no shit\n  start_ms: 207430\n  end_ms: 210320\n- text: Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  start_ms: 210320\n  end_ms: 218240\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 218240\n  end_ms: 220500\n- text: West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  start_ms: 220500\n  end_ms: 224380\n- text: Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  start_ms: 224380\n  end_ms: 225870\n- text: Battlecat\n  start_ms: 225870\n  end_ms: 227220\n- text: (Don't step up)\n  start_ms: 227220\n  end_ms: 230930\n- text: Right, right\n  start_ms: 230930\n  end_ms: 234730\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 234730\n  end_ms: 237720\n- text: Huh, huh, huh\n  start_ms: 237720\n  end_ms: 238990\n- text: (Get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 238990\n  end_ms: 240320\n- text: Whatcha say?\n  start_ms: 240320\n  end_ms: 242740\n- text: Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  start_ms: 242740\n  end_ms: 245480\n- text: (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 245480\n  end_ms: 247160\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 247160\n  end_ms: 254730\n- text: Daz Dillinger\n  start_ms: 254730\n  end_ms: 256020\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 256020\n  end_ms: 259880\n- text: Break it down, break it down\n  start_ms: 259880\n  end_ms: 263190\n- text: Huh\n  start_ms: 263190\n  end_ms: 280000\n- text: Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n  start_ms: 280000\n  end_ms: 281930\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 281930\nplain: |-\n  Aw yeah!\n  Right about now it's time to get busy\n  Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\n  This is the art of, manslaughter\n  When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  You entered the wrong scuffle\n  You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  Deliver the sick verbals\n  My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  Your body spin around, in six circles\n  Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  Freezin g's in your legion\n  Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  It's all about Crooked\n  These bitches shout Crooked\n  I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\n  Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  Can you fuck with this?\n  Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\n  Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  Up against the microphone night stalker\n  With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  In effect, get infected\n  Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  These venemous injections\n  I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  I select the methods of slow anguish\n  I mangle shit with my language\n  Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  With the microphone\n  In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  So don't compare me to none\n  Not one's nearly\n  Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  With no knowledge on how to rock\n\n  Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  Alkaholiks!\n\n  When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  See we do it how it can't be done\n  I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  My Dogg Kurupt\n\n  Yeah, no shit\n  Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  Battlecat\n  (Don't step up)\n  Right, right\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Huh, huh, huh\n\n  (Get get get get hurt)\n  Whatcha say?\n  Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  Daz Dillinger\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Break it down, break it down\n  Huh\n\n  Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n"},{"id":14798966,"name":"Step Up (Feat. Kurupt, Daz Dillinger & Xzibit)","trackName":"Step Up (Feat. Kurupt, Daz Dillinger & Xzibit)","artistName":"Crooked I","albumName":"An I For An I","duration":293.100542,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Aw yeah!\nRight about now it's time to get busy\nHuh, straight out the box, nonstop\nKurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\nThis is the art of, manslaughter\nWhen I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\nYou entered the wrong scuffle\nYou catchin' a chrome buckle\nI uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\nDeliver the sick verbals\nMy shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\nYour body spin around, in six circles\nDiminishin' infamous menaces\nI'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\nLyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\nFreezin g's in your legion\nFreakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\nIt's all about Crooked\nThese bitches shout Crooked\nI'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\nI own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\nWhen I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\nI load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\nNow that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\nMotherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\nCan you fuck with this?\nLet's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\nY'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\nYeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\nTerror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\nThe storm, my vocals float like arks\nIn the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\nMy microphone massacres every year the same time\nWith audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\nUp against the microphone night stalker\nWith a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\nAs you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\nThe room gets cleared as my views get clearer\nExtra-terrestrial microphone terror\nIn effect, get infected\nTell me what the fuck you expected\nThese venemous injections\nI leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\nFrom these poisonous melodies and selections\nI select the methods of slow anguish\nI mangle shit with my language\nTell me, have you ever seen one elope\nWith the microphone\nIn a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\nBaboom, alone in my own zone\nSo don't compare me to none\nNot one's nearly\nSevere, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\nNear me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\nSincerely, I could have the spot locked\nNiggas get stoned for touching microphones\nWith no knowledge on how to rock\n\nYeah, back in effect, it don't stop\nTurn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\nWe fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\nGot my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\nAlkaholiks!\n\nWhen I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\nSadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\nBust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\nMake niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\nIt'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\nAct like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\nSee we do it how it can't be done\nI'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\nOr direct descendant of the gatling gun\nDon't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\nThat ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\nYou can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\nReady to repeat, round after round at you\nAll hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\nI found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\nI own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\nCross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\nI'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\nIt's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\nCan't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\nMy Dogg Kurupt\n\nYeah, no shit\nYeah, y'all can't fuck with that\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nWest coast, we been doin' this shit for years\nAin't nothin' happenin' wit' that\nBattlecat\n(Don't step up)\nRight, right\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nHuh, huh, huh\n\n(Get get get get hurt)\nWhatcha say?\nMotherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nDaz Dillinger\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nBreak it down, break it down\nHuh\n\nMotherfuckers can't fade this shit","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.37] Aw yeah!\n[00:01.89] Right about now it's time to get busy\n[00:05.77] Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n[00:10.60] Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n[00:15.44] This is the art of, manslaughter\n[00:17.51] When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n[00:20.62] You entered the wrong scuffle\n[00:22.29] You catchin' a chrome buckle\n[00:23.41] I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n[00:25.92] Deliver the sick verbals\n[00:27.41] My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n[00:29.54] Your body spin around, in six circles\n[00:31.25] Diminishin' infamous menaces\n[00:32.91] I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n[00:35.53] Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n[00:37.63] Freezin g's in your legion\n[00:38.96] Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n[00:40.93] It's all about Crooked\n[00:42.57] These bitches shout Crooked\n[00:43.90] I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n[00:46.40] I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n[00:48.85] When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n[00:51.69] I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n[00:54.30] Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n[00:56.86] Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n[01:01.75] Can you fuck with this?\n[01:04.04] Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n[01:07.24] Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n[01:12.15] Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n[01:17.09] Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n[01:19.75] The storm, my vocals float like arks\n[01:22.32] In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n[01:24.97] My microphone massacres every year the same time\n[01:27.13] With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n[01:31.82] Up against the microphone night stalker\n[01:33.05] With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n[01:35.36] As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n[01:37.88] The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n[01:40.59] Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n[01:43.08] In effect, get infected\n[01:44.33] Tell me what the fuck you expected\n[01:46.72] These venemous injections\n[01:48.49] I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n[01:50.78] From these poisonous melodies and selections\n[01:53.41] I select the methods of slow anguish\n[01:55.90] I mangle shit with my language\n[01:57.66] Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n[02:00.14] With the microphone\n[02:01.37] In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n[02:03.62] Baboom, alone in my own zone\n[02:05.95] So don't compare me to none\n[02:07.85] Not one's nearly\n[02:09.19] Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n[02:11.78] Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n[02:15.06] Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n[02:17.17] Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n[02:18.66] With no knowledge on how to rock\n[02:20.02] Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n[02:22.61] Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n[02:26.96] We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n[02:30.45] Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n[02:33.79] Alkaholiks!\n[02:35.25] When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n[02:37.60] Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n[02:40.03] Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n[02:42.59] Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n[02:45.33] It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n[02:48.28] Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n[02:50.66] See we do it how it can't be done\n[02:52.93] I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n[02:55.47] Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n[02:58.07] Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n[03:00.35] That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n[03:02.97] You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n[03:05.57] Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n[03:08.45] All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n[03:10.76] I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n[03:13.32] I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n[03:16.29] Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n[03:18.84] I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n[03:21.25] It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n[03:23.74] Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n[03:26.38] My Dogg Kurupt\n[03:27.43] Yeah, no shit\n[03:30.32] Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n[03:38.24] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[03:40.50] West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n[03:44.38] Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n[03:45.87] Battlecat\n[03:47.22] (Don't step up)\n[03:50.93] Right, right\n[03:54.73] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[03:57.72] Huh, huh, huh\n[03:58.99] (Get get get get hurt)\n[04:00.32] Whatcha say?\n[04:02.74] Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n[04:05.48] (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n[04:07.16] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[04:14.73] Daz Dillinger\n[04:16.02] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[04:19.88] Break it down, break it down\n[04:23.19] Huh\n[04:40.00] Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n[04:41.93] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Step Up (Feat. Kurupt, Daz Dillinger & Xzibit)\n  artist: Crooked I\n  album: An I For An I\n  duration_ms: 293101\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Aw yeah!\n  start_ms: 370\n  end_ms: 1890\n- text: Right about now it's time to get busy\n  start_ms: 1890\n  end_ms: 5770\n- text: Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  start_ms: 5770\n  end_ms: 10600\n- text: Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n  start_ms: 10600\n  end_ms: 15440\n- text: This is the art of, manslaughter\n  start_ms: 15440\n  end_ms: 17510\n- text: When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  start_ms: 17510\n  end_ms: 20620\n- text: You entered the wrong scuffle\n  start_ms: 20620\n  end_ms: 22290\n- text: You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  start_ms: 22290\n  end_ms: 23410\n- text: I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  start_ms: 23410\n  end_ms: 25920\n- text: Deliver the sick verbals\n  start_ms: 25920\n  end_ms: 27410\n- text: My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  start_ms: 27410\n  end_ms: 29540\n- text: Your body spin around, in six circles\n  start_ms: 29540\n  end_ms: 31250\n- text: Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  start_ms: 31250\n  end_ms: 32910\n- text: I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  start_ms: 32910\n  end_ms: 35530\n- text: Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  start_ms: 35530\n  end_ms: 37630\n- text: Freezin g's in your legion\n  start_ms: 37630\n  end_ms: 38960\n- text: Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  start_ms: 38960\n  end_ms: 40930\n- text: It's all about Crooked\n  start_ms: 40930\n  end_ms: 42570\n- text: These bitches shout Crooked\n  start_ms: 42570\n  end_ms: 43900\n- text: I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  start_ms: 43900\n  end_ms: 46400\n- text: I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  start_ms: 46400\n  end_ms: 48850\n- text: When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  start_ms: 48850\n  end_ms: 51690\n- text: I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  start_ms: 51690\n  end_ms: 54300\n- text: Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n  start_ms: 54300\n  end_ms: 56860\n- text: Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  start_ms: 56860\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Can you fuck with this?\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64040\n- text: Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  start_ms: 64040\n  end_ms: 67240\n- text: Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  start_ms: 67240\n  end_ms: 72150\n- text: Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n  start_ms: 72150\n  end_ms: 77090\n- text: Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  start_ms: 77090\n  end_ms: 79750\n- text: The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  start_ms: 79750\n  end_ms: 82320\n- text: In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  start_ms: 82320\n  end_ms: 84970\n- text: My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  start_ms: 84970\n  end_ms: 87130\n- text: With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  start_ms: 87130\n  end_ms: 91820\n- text: Up against the microphone night stalker\n  start_ms: 91820\n  end_ms: 93050\n- text: With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  start_ms: 93050\n  end_ms: 95360\n- text: As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  start_ms: 95360\n  end_ms: 97880\n- text: The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  start_ms: 97880\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 103080\n- text: In effect, get infected\n  start_ms: 103080\n  end_ms: 104330\n- text: Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  start_ms: 104330\n  end_ms: 106720\n- text: These venemous injections\n  start_ms: 106720\n  end_ms: 108490\n- text: I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  start_ms: 108490\n  end_ms: 110780\n- text: From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  start_ms: 110780\n  end_ms: 113410\n- text: I select the methods of slow anguish\n  start_ms: 113410\n  end_ms: 115900\n- text: I mangle shit with my language\n  start_ms: 115900\n  end_ms: 117660\n- text: Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  start_ms: 117660\n  end_ms: 120140\n- text: With the microphone\n  start_ms: 120140\n  end_ms: 121370\n- text: In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  start_ms: 121370\n  end_ms: 123620\n- text: Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  start_ms: 123620\n  end_ms: 125950\n- text: So don't compare me to none\n  start_ms: 125950\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: Not one's nearly\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 129190\n- text: Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  start_ms: 129190\n  end_ms: 131780\n- text: Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  start_ms: 131780\n  end_ms: 135060\n- text: Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  start_ms: 135060\n  end_ms: 137170\n- text: Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  start_ms: 137170\n  end_ms: 138660\n- text: With no knowledge on how to rock\n  start_ms: 138660\n  end_ms: 140020\n- text: Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  start_ms: 140020\n  end_ms: 142610\n- text: Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  start_ms: 142610\n  end_ms: 146960\n- text: We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  start_ms: 146960\n  end_ms: 150450\n- text: Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  start_ms: 150450\n  end_ms: 153790\n- text: Alkaholiks!\n  start_ms: 153790\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 157600\n- text: Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  start_ms: 157600\n  end_ms: 160030\n- text: Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  start_ms: 160030\n  end_ms: 162590\n- text: Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  start_ms: 162590\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 168280\n- text: Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  start_ms: 168280\n  end_ms: 170660\n- text: See we do it how it can't be done\n  start_ms: 170660\n  end_ms: 172930\n- text: I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  start_ms: 172930\n  end_ms: 175470\n- text: Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  start_ms: 175470\n  end_ms: 178070\n- text: Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  start_ms: 178070\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 182970\n- text: You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  start_ms: 182970\n  end_ms: 185570\n- text: Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  start_ms: 185570\n  end_ms: 188450\n- text: All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  start_ms: 188450\n  end_ms: 190760\n- text: I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  start_ms: 190760\n  end_ms: 193320\n- text: I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  start_ms: 193320\n  end_ms: 196290\n- text: Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  start_ms: 196290\n  end_ms: 198840\n- text: I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  start_ms: 198840\n  end_ms: 201250\n- text: It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  start_ms: 201250\n  end_ms: 203740\n- text: Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  start_ms: 203740\n  end_ms: 206380\n- text: My Dogg Kurupt\n  start_ms: 206380\n  end_ms: 207430\n- text: Yeah, no shit\n  start_ms: 207430\n  end_ms: 210320\n- text: Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  start_ms: 210320\n  end_ms: 218240\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 218240\n  end_ms: 220500\n- text: West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  start_ms: 220500\n  end_ms: 224380\n- text: Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  start_ms: 224380\n  end_ms: 225870\n- text: Battlecat\n  start_ms: 225870\n  end_ms: 227220\n- text: (Don't step up)\n  start_ms: 227220\n  end_ms: 230930\n- text: Right, right\n  start_ms: 230930\n  end_ms: 234730\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 234730\n  end_ms: 237720\n- text: Huh, huh, huh\n  start_ms: 237720\n  end_ms: 238990\n- text: (Get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 238990\n  end_ms: 240320\n- text: Whatcha say?\n  start_ms: 240320\n  end_ms: 242740\n- text: Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  start_ms: 242740\n  end_ms: 245480\n- text: (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 245480\n  end_ms: 247160\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 247160\n  end_ms: 254730\n- text: Daz Dillinger\n  start_ms: 254730\n  end_ms: 256020\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 256020\n  end_ms: 259880\n- text: Break it down, break it down\n  start_ms: 259880\n  end_ms: 263190\n- text: Huh\n  start_ms: 263190\n  end_ms: 280000\n- text: Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n  start_ms: 280000\n  end_ms: 281930\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 281930\nplain: |-\n  Aw yeah!\n  Right about now it's time to get busy\n  Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\n  This is the art of, manslaughter\n  When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  You entered the wrong scuffle\n  You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  Deliver the sick verbals\n  My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  Your body spin around, in six circles\n  Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  Freezin g's in your legion\n  Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  It's all about Crooked\n  These bitches shout Crooked\n  I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\n  Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  Can you fuck with this?\n  Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\n  Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  Up against the microphone night stalker\n  With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  In effect, get infected\n  Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  These venemous injections\n  I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  I select the methods of slow anguish\n  I mangle shit with my language\n  Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  With the microphone\n  In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  So don't compare me to none\n  Not one's nearly\n  Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  With no knowledge on how to rock\n\n  Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  Alkaholiks!\n\n  When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  See we do it how it can't be done\n  I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  My Dogg Kurupt\n\n  Yeah, no shit\n  Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  Battlecat\n  (Don't step up)\n  Right, right\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Huh, huh, huh\n\n  (Get get get get hurt)\n  Whatcha say?\n  Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  Daz Dillinger\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Break it down, break it down\n  Huh\n\n  Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n"},{"id":14799052,"name":"Step Up (Feat. Kurupt, Daz Dillinger & Xzibit)","trackName":"Step Up (Feat. Kurupt, Daz Dillinger & Xzibit)","artistName":"Crooked I","albumName":"Concealed Weapon Vol.1","duration":293.1722449,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Aw yeah!\nRight about now it's time to get busy\nHuh, straight out the box, nonstop\nKurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\nThis is the art of, manslaughter\nWhen I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\nYou entered the wrong scuffle\nYou catchin' a chrome buckle\nI uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\nDeliver the sick verbals\nMy shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\nYour body spin around, in six circles\nDiminishin' infamous menaces\nI'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\nLyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\nFreezin g's in your legion\nFreakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\nIt's all about Crooked\nThese bitches shout Crooked\nI'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\nI own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\nWhen I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\nI load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\nNow that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\nMotherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\nCan you fuck with this?\nLet's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\nY'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\nYeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\nTerror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\nThe storm, my vocals float like arks\nIn the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\nMy microphone massacres every year the same time\nWith audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\nUp against the microphone night stalker\nWith a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\nAs you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\nThe room gets cleared as my views get clearer\nExtra-terrestrial microphone terror\nIn effect, get infected\nTell me what the fuck you expected\nThese venemous injections\nI leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\nFrom these poisonous melodies and selections\nI select the methods of slow anguish\nI mangle shit with my language\nTell me, have you ever seen one elope\nWith the microphone\nIn a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\nBaboom, alone in my own zone\nSo don't compare me to none\nNot one's nearly\nSevere, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\nNear me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\nSincerely, I could have the spot locked\nNiggas get stoned for touching microphones\nWith no knowledge on how to rock\n\nYeah, back in effect, it don't stop\nTurn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\nWe fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\nGot my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\nAlkaholiks!\n\nWhen I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\nSadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\nBust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\nMake niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\nIt'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\nAct like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\nSee we do it how it can't be done\nI'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\nOr direct descendant of the gatling gun\nDon't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\nThat ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\nYou can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\nReady to repeat, round after round at you\nAll hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\nI found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\nI own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\nCross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\nI'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\nIt's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\nCan't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\nMy Dogg Kurupt\n\nYeah, no shit\nYeah, y'all can't fuck with that\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nWest coast, we been doin' this shit for years\nAin't nothin' happenin' wit' that\nBattlecat\n(Don't step up)\nRight, right\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nHuh, huh, huh\n\n(Get get get get hurt)\nWhatcha say?\nMotherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n(Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\nThat's what I'm talkin' about\nDaz Dillinger\n(Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\nBreak it down, break it down\nHuh\n\nMotherfuckers can't fade this shit","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.37] Aw yeah!\n[00:01.89] Right about now it's time to get busy\n[00:05.77] Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n[00:10.60] Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n[00:15.44] This is the art of, manslaughter\n[00:17.51] When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n[00:20.62] You entered the wrong scuffle\n[00:22.29] You catchin' a chrome buckle\n[00:23.41] I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n[00:25.92] Deliver the sick verbals\n[00:27.41] My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n[00:29.54] Your body spin around, in six circles\n[00:31.25] Diminishin' infamous menaces\n[00:32.91] I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n[00:35.53] Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n[00:37.63] Freezin g's in your legion\n[00:38.96] Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n[00:40.93] It's all about Crooked\n[00:42.57] These bitches shout Crooked\n[00:43.90] I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n[00:46.40] I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n[00:48.85] When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n[00:51.69] I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n[00:54.30] Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n[00:56.86] Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n[01:01.75] Can you fuck with this?\n[01:04.04] Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n[01:07.24] Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n[01:12.15] Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n[01:17.09] Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n[01:19.75] The storm, my vocals float like arks\n[01:22.32] In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n[01:24.97] My microphone massacres every year the same time\n[01:27.13] With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n[01:31.82] Up against the microphone night stalker\n[01:33.05] With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n[01:35.36] As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n[01:37.88] The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n[01:40.59] Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n[01:43.08] In effect, get infected\n[01:44.33] Tell me what the fuck you expected\n[01:46.72] These venemous injections\n[01:48.49] I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n[01:50.78] From these poisonous melodies and selections\n[01:53.41] I select the methods of slow anguish\n[01:55.90] I mangle shit with my language\n[01:57.66] Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n[02:00.14] With the microphone\n[02:01.37] In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n[02:03.62] Baboom, alone in my own zone\n[02:05.95] So don't compare me to none\n[02:07.85] Not one's nearly\n[02:09.19] Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n[02:11.78] Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n[02:15.06] Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n[02:17.17] Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n[02:18.66] With no knowledge on how to rock\n[02:20.02] Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n[02:22.61] Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n[02:26.96] We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n[02:30.45] Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n[02:33.79] Alkaholiks!\n[02:35.25] When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n[02:37.60] Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n[02:40.03] Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n[02:42.59] Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n[02:45.33] It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n[02:48.28] Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n[02:50.66] See we do it how it can't be done\n[02:52.93] I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n[02:55.47] Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n[02:58.07] Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n[03:00.35] That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n[03:02.97] You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n[03:05.57] Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n[03:08.45] All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n[03:10.76] I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n[03:13.32] I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n[03:16.29] Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n[03:18.84] I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n[03:21.25] It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n[03:23.74] Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n[03:26.38] My Dogg Kurupt\n[03:27.43] Yeah, no shit\n[03:30.32] Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n[03:38.24] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[03:40.50] West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n[03:44.38] Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n[03:45.87] Battlecat\n[03:47.22] (Don't step up)\n[03:50.93] Right, right\n[03:54.73] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[03:57.72] Huh, huh, huh\n[03:58.99] (Get get get get hurt)\n[04:00.32] Whatcha say?\n[04:02.74] Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n[04:05.48] (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n[04:07.16] That's what I'm talkin' about\n[04:14.73] Daz Dillinger\n[04:16.02] (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n[04:19.88] Break it down, break it down\n[04:23.19] Huh\n[04:40.00] Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n[04:41.93] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Step Up (Feat. Kurupt, Daz Dillinger & Xzibit)\n  artist: Crooked I\n  album: Concealed Weapon Vol.1\n  duration_ms: 293172\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Aw yeah!\n  start_ms: 370\n  end_ms: 1890\n- text: Right about now it's time to get busy\n  start_ms: 1890\n  end_ms: 5770\n- text: Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  start_ms: 5770\n  end_ms: 10600\n- text: Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n  start_ms: 10600\n  end_ms: 15440\n- text: This is the art of, manslaughter\n  start_ms: 15440\n  end_ms: 17510\n- text: When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  start_ms: 17510\n  end_ms: 20620\n- text: You entered the wrong scuffle\n  start_ms: 20620\n  end_ms: 22290\n- text: You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  start_ms: 22290\n  end_ms: 23410\n- text: I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  start_ms: 23410\n  end_ms: 25920\n- text: Deliver the sick verbals\n  start_ms: 25920\n  end_ms: 27410\n- text: My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  start_ms: 27410\n  end_ms: 29540\n- text: Your body spin around, in six circles\n  start_ms: 29540\n  end_ms: 31250\n- text: Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  start_ms: 31250\n  end_ms: 32910\n- text: I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  start_ms: 32910\n  end_ms: 35530\n- text: Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  start_ms: 35530\n  end_ms: 37630\n- text: Freezin g's in your legion\n  start_ms: 37630\n  end_ms: 38960\n- text: Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  start_ms: 38960\n  end_ms: 40930\n- text: It's all about Crooked\n  start_ms: 40930\n  end_ms: 42570\n- text: These bitches shout Crooked\n  start_ms: 42570\n  end_ms: 43900\n- text: I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  start_ms: 43900\n  end_ms: 46400\n- text: I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  start_ms: 46400\n  end_ms: 48850\n- text: When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  start_ms: 48850\n  end_ms: 51690\n- text: I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  start_ms: 51690\n  end_ms: 54300\n- text: Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n  start_ms: 54300\n  end_ms: 56860\n- text: Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  start_ms: 56860\n  end_ms: 61750\n- text: Can you fuck with this?\n  start_ms: 61750\n  end_ms: 64040\n- text: Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  start_ms: 64040\n  end_ms: 67240\n- text: Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  start_ms: 67240\n  end_ms: 72150\n- text: Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n  start_ms: 72150\n  end_ms: 77090\n- text: Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  start_ms: 77090\n  end_ms: 79750\n- text: The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  start_ms: 79750\n  end_ms: 82320\n- text: In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  start_ms: 82320\n  end_ms: 84970\n- text: My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  start_ms: 84970\n  end_ms: 87130\n- text: With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  start_ms: 87130\n  end_ms: 91820\n- text: Up against the microphone night stalker\n  start_ms: 91820\n  end_ms: 93050\n- text: With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  start_ms: 93050\n  end_ms: 95360\n- text: As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  start_ms: 95360\n  end_ms: 97880\n- text: The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  start_ms: 97880\n  end_ms: 100590\n- text: Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  start_ms: 100590\n  end_ms: 103080\n- text: In effect, get infected\n  start_ms: 103080\n  end_ms: 104330\n- text: Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  start_ms: 104330\n  end_ms: 106720\n- text: These venemous injections\n  start_ms: 106720\n  end_ms: 108490\n- text: I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  start_ms: 108490\n  end_ms: 110780\n- text: From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  start_ms: 110780\n  end_ms: 113410\n- text: I select the methods of slow anguish\n  start_ms: 113410\n  end_ms: 115900\n- text: I mangle shit with my language\n  start_ms: 115900\n  end_ms: 117660\n- text: Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  start_ms: 117660\n  end_ms: 120140\n- text: With the microphone\n  start_ms: 120140\n  end_ms: 121370\n- text: In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  start_ms: 121370\n  end_ms: 123620\n- text: Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  start_ms: 123620\n  end_ms: 125950\n- text: So don't compare me to none\n  start_ms: 125950\n  end_ms: 127850\n- text: Not one's nearly\n  start_ms: 127850\n  end_ms: 129190\n- text: Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  start_ms: 129190\n  end_ms: 131780\n- text: Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  start_ms: 131780\n  end_ms: 135060\n- text: Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  start_ms: 135060\n  end_ms: 137170\n- text: Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  start_ms: 137170\n  end_ms: 138660\n- text: With no knowledge on how to rock\n  start_ms: 138660\n  end_ms: 140020\n- text: Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  start_ms: 140020\n  end_ms: 142610\n- text: Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  start_ms: 142610\n  end_ms: 146960\n- text: We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  start_ms: 146960\n  end_ms: 150450\n- text: Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  start_ms: 150450\n  end_ms: 153790\n- text: Alkaholiks!\n  start_ms: 153790\n  end_ms: 155250\n- text: When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  start_ms: 155250\n  end_ms: 157600\n- text: Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  start_ms: 157600\n  end_ms: 160030\n- text: Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  start_ms: 160030\n  end_ms: 162590\n- text: Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  start_ms: 162590\n  end_ms: 165330\n- text: It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  start_ms: 165330\n  end_ms: 168280\n- text: Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  start_ms: 168280\n  end_ms: 170660\n- text: See we do it how it can't be done\n  start_ms: 170660\n  end_ms: 172930\n- text: I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  start_ms: 172930\n  end_ms: 175470\n- text: Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  start_ms: 175470\n  end_ms: 178070\n- text: Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  start_ms: 178070\n  end_ms: 180350\n- text: That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  start_ms: 180350\n  end_ms: 182970\n- text: You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  start_ms: 182970\n  end_ms: 185570\n- text: Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  start_ms: 185570\n  end_ms: 188450\n- text: All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  start_ms: 188450\n  end_ms: 190760\n- text: I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  start_ms: 190760\n  end_ms: 193320\n- text: I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  start_ms: 193320\n  end_ms: 196290\n- text: Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  start_ms: 196290\n  end_ms: 198840\n- text: I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  start_ms: 198840\n  end_ms: 201250\n- text: It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  start_ms: 201250\n  end_ms: 203740\n- text: Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  start_ms: 203740\n  end_ms: 206380\n- text: My Dogg Kurupt\n  start_ms: 206380\n  end_ms: 207430\n- text: Yeah, no shit\n  start_ms: 207430\n  end_ms: 210320\n- text: Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  start_ms: 210320\n  end_ms: 218240\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 218240\n  end_ms: 220500\n- text: West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  start_ms: 220500\n  end_ms: 224380\n- text: Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  start_ms: 224380\n  end_ms: 225870\n- text: Battlecat\n  start_ms: 225870\n  end_ms: 227220\n- text: (Don't step up)\n  start_ms: 227220\n  end_ms: 230930\n- text: Right, right\n  start_ms: 230930\n  end_ms: 234730\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 234730\n  end_ms: 237720\n- text: Huh, huh, huh\n  start_ms: 237720\n  end_ms: 238990\n- text: (Get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 238990\n  end_ms: 240320\n- text: Whatcha say?\n  start_ms: 240320\n  end_ms: 242740\n- text: Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  start_ms: 242740\n  end_ms: 245480\n- text: (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  start_ms: 245480\n  end_ms: 247160\n- text: That's what I'm talkin' about\n  start_ms: 247160\n  end_ms: 254730\n- text: Daz Dillinger\n  start_ms: 254730\n  end_ms: 256020\n- text: (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  start_ms: 256020\n  end_ms: 259880\n- text: Break it down, break it down\n  start_ms: 259880\n  end_ms: 263190\n- text: Huh\n  start_ms: 263190\n  end_ms: 280000\n- text: Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n  start_ms: 280000\n  end_ms: 281930\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 281930\nplain: |-\n  Aw yeah!\n  Right about now it's time to get busy\n  Huh, straight out the box, nonstop\n  Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I\n\n  This is the art of, manslaughter\n  When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water\n  You entered the wrong scuffle\n  You catchin' a chrome buckle\n  I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles\n  Deliver the sick verbals\n  My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground\n  Your body spin around, in six circles\n  Diminishin' infamous menaces\n  I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents\n  Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region\n  Freezin g's in your legion\n  Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician\n  It's all about Crooked\n  These bitches shout Crooked\n  I'll make you say the West Coast ain't shit without Crooked\n  I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled\n  When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables\n  I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya\n  Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha\n\n  Motherfuckers can you dig that, huh?\n  Can you fuck with this?\n  Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fuck y'all niggas up\n  Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit\n  Yeah, how you like me now, motherfucker?\n\n  Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts\n  The storm, my vocals float like arks\n  In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme\n  My microphone massacres every year the same time\n  With audio amputations, vocal chords of a loud talker\n  Up against the microphone night stalker\n  With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me\n  As you can see I continue mashin' MCs, kaboom!\n  The room gets cleared as my views get clearer\n  Extra-terrestrial microphone terror\n  In effect, get infected\n  Tell me what the fuck you expected\n  These venemous injections\n  I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections\n  From these poisonous melodies and selections\n  I select the methods of slow anguish\n  I mangle shit with my language\n  Tell me, have you ever seen one elope\n  With the microphone\n  In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode\n  Baboom, alone in my own zone\n  So don't compare me to none\n  Not one's nearly\n  Severe, 'cause I severely, impare MCs\n  Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories\n  Sincerely, I could have the spot locked\n  Niggas get stoned for touching microphones\n  With no knowledge on how to rock\n\n  Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop\n  Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table\n  We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah\n  Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuckin' house\n  Alkaholiks!\n\n  When I was enlisted, I came to the table double fisted\n  Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies\n  Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities\n  Make niggas sport khakis and chucks from here to Italy\n  It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail\n  Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail and run\n  See we do it how it can't be done\n  I'm the rough cut, plus how the West was won\n  Or direct descendant of the gatling gun\n  Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one\n  That ain't a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep\n  You can't compete with 25 niggas with heat in the street\n  Ready to repeat, round after round at you\n  All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through\n  I found that you and yours, can never fuck with mine\n  I own shit but Gimme Some More like Busta Rhymes\n  Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper\n  I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper\n  It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust\n  Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus\n  My Dogg Kurupt\n\n  Yeah, no shit\n  Yeah, y'all can't fuck with that\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  West coast, we been doin' this shit for years\n  Ain't nothin' happenin' wit' that\n  Battlecat\n  (Don't step up)\n  Right, right\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Huh, huh, huh\n\n  (Get get get get hurt)\n  Whatcha say?\n  Motherfuckers that be hangin' in the battle\n  (Get hurt, get get get get hurt)\n  That's what I'm talkin' about\n  Daz Dillinger\n  (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt)\n  Break it down, break it down\n  Huh\n\n  Motherfuckers can't fade this shit\n"}]