[{"id":30804332,"name":"Ya Can't Trust Nobody","trackName":"Ya Can't Trust Nobody","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha (Digitally Remastered)","duration":173.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Man what you need man?\nYour bitch ass always coming around here with this\nWhole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\nNigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\nMy bills gotta get paid motherfucker\nI'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n\nHop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\nWhether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\nMe and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\nBusting on niggas if they act up\n\nOn a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\nChi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n\nCops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\nFor these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\nGot it sewed up for real\nDealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n'98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\nFuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n\nIt feel like fuck trust\nA nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\nStacking, stolen stacks stacking\nIt ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\nCracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\nThe dark parts of the motherfucking park\nThe tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\nWith something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\nRepeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\nShot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\nAin't no faking, we all out to get paid\nWhat niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\nWe jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\nWith a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\nNow we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\nEvery day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\nLike, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\nWhen I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\nI'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\nAnd it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\nEvery nigga on the street is paid\n\nA couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\nWarfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\nTime to hit off, get off then break off\nIf they don't kick in the bread then take off\nColombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\nColombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\nTwo shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n\nAnd my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\nShit! Get the door\nOh man the police, come on get out of here man\nFlush the shit, flush the coke!","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.11] Man what you need man?\n[00:05.58] Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n[00:07.67] Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n[00:10.89] Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n[00:14.01] My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n[00:17.20] I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n[00:21.72] Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n[00:24.69] Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n[00:27.26] Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n[00:29.62] Busting on niggas if they act up\n[00:31.53] On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n[00:34.16] Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n[00:36.90] Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n[00:39.51] For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n[00:41.74] Got it sewed up for real\n[00:43.30] Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n[00:45.64] '98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n[00:48.12] Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n[00:50.57] It feel like fuck trust\n[00:51.91] A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n[00:55.13] Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n[00:56.82] It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n[00:59.93] Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n[01:03.21] The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n[01:05.34] The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n[01:07.48] With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n[01:10.00] Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n[01:12.89] Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n[01:15.48] Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n[01:17.35] What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n[01:20.24] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[01:22.49] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[01:25.14] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[01:27.31] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[01:29.39] We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n[01:32.05] With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n[01:34.42] Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n[01:36.92] Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n[01:39.14] Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n[01:41.68] When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n[01:44.14] I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n[01:46.78] And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n[01:49.14] Every nigga on the street is paid\n[01:51.44] A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n[01:54.09] Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n[01:56.79] Time to hit off, get off then break off\n[01:59.15] If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n[02:01.34] Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n[02:04.91] Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n[02:08.14] Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n[02:11.06] And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n[02:13.96] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[02:16.15] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[02:18.70] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:21.06] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[02:23.80] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[02:25.89] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[02:28.56] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:30.78] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[02:34.77] Shit! Get the door\n[02:37.92] Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n[02:40.72] Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n[02:52.70] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Ya Can't Trust Nobody\n artist: Kurupt\n album: Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha (Digitally Remastered)\n duration_ms: 173000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Man what you need man?\n start_ms: 3110\n end_ms: 5580\n- text: Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n start_ms: 5580\n end_ms: 7670\n- text: Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n start_ms: 7670\n end_ms: 10890\n- text: Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n start_ms: 10890\n end_ms: 14010\n- text: My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n start_ms: 14010\n end_ms: 17200\n- text: I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n start_ms: 17200\n end_ms: 21720\n- text: Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n start_ms: 21720\n end_ms: 24690\n- text: Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n start_ms: 24690\n end_ms: 27260\n- text: Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n start_ms: 27260\n end_ms: 29620\n- text: Busting on niggas if they act up\n start_ms: 29620\n end_ms: 31530\n- text: On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n start_ms: 31530\n end_ms: 34160\n- text: Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n start_ms: 34160\n end_ms: 36900\n- text: Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n start_ms: 36900\n end_ms: 39510\n- text: For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n start_ms: 39510\n end_ms: 41740\n- text: Got it sewed up for real\n start_ms: 41740\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 45640\n- text: '''98 My motto is kill, that''s how it is'\n start_ms: 45640\n end_ms: 48120\n- text: Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n start_ms: 48120\n end_ms: 50570\n- text: It feel like fuck trust\n start_ms: 50570\n end_ms: 51910\n- text: A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n start_ms: 51910\n end_ms: 55130\n- text: Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n start_ms: 55130\n end_ms: 56820\n- text: It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n start_ms: 56820\n end_ms: 59930\n- text: Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n start_ms: 59930\n end_ms: 63210\n- text: The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n start_ms: 63210\n end_ms: 65340\n- text: The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n start_ms: 65340\n end_ms: 67480\n- text: With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n start_ms: 67480\n end_ms: 70000\n- text: Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n start_ms: 70000\n end_ms: 72890\n- text: Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n start_ms: 72890\n end_ms: 75480\n- text: Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n start_ms: 75480\n end_ms: 77350\n- text: What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n start_ms: 77350\n end_ms: 80240\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 80240\n end_ms: 82490\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 82490\n end_ms: 85140\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 85140\n end_ms: 87310\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 87310\n end_ms: 89390\n- text: We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n start_ms: 89390\n end_ms: 92050\n- text: With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n start_ms: 92050\n end_ms: 94420\n- text: Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n start_ms: 94420\n end_ms: 96920\n- text: Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n start_ms: 96920\n end_ms: 99140\n- text: Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n start_ms: 99140\n end_ms: 101680\n- text: When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n start_ms: 101680\n end_ms: 104140\n- text: I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n start_ms: 104140\n end_ms: 106780\n- text: And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n start_ms: 106780\n end_ms: 109140\n- text: Every nigga on the street is paid\n start_ms: 109140\n end_ms: 111440\n- text: A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n start_ms: 111440\n end_ms: 114090\n- text: Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n start_ms: 114090\n end_ms: 116790\n- text: Time to hit off, get off then break off\n start_ms: 116790\n end_ms: 119150\n- text: If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n start_ms: 119150\n end_ms: 121340\n- text: Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n start_ms: 121340\n end_ms: 124910\n- text: Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n start_ms: 124910\n end_ms: 128140\n- text: Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n start_ms: 128140\n end_ms: 131060\n- text: And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n start_ms: 131060\n end_ms: 133960\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 133960\n end_ms: 136150\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 136150\n end_ms: 138700\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 138700\n end_ms: 141060\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 141060\n end_ms: 143800\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 143800\n end_ms: 145890\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 145890\n end_ms: 148560\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 148560\n end_ms: 150780\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 150780\n end_ms: 154770\n- text: Shit! Get the door\n start_ms: 154770\n end_ms: 157920\n- text: Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n start_ms: 157920\n end_ms: 160720\n- text: Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n start_ms: 160720\n end_ms: 172700\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 172700\nplain: |-\n Man what you need man?\n Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n\n Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n Busting on niggas if they act up\n\n On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n\n Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n Got it sewed up for real\n Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n '98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n\n It feel like fuck trust\n A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\n Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\n Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\n We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n Every nigga on the street is paid\n\n A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n Time to hit off, get off then break off\n If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n\n And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\n Shit! Get the door\n Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n"},{"id":30054823,"name":"Ya Can't Trust Nobody","trackName":"Ya Can't Trust Nobody","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha [Clean]","duration":172.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Man what you need man?\nYour bitch ass always coming around here with this\nWhole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\nNigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\nMy bills gotta get paid motherfucker\nI'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n\nHop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\nWhether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\nMe and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\nBusting on niggas if they act up\n\nOn a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\nChi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n\nCops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\nFor these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\nGot it sewed up for real\nDealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n'98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\nFuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n\nIt feel like fuck trust\nA nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\nStacking, stolen stacks stacking\nIt ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\nCracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\nThe dark parts of the motherfucking park\nThe tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\nWith something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\nRepeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\nShot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\nAin't no faking, we all out to get paid\nWhat niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\nWe jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\nWith a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\nNow we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\nEvery day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\nLike, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\nWhen I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\nI'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\nAnd it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\nEvery nigga on the street is paid\n\nA couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\nWarfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\nTime to hit off, get off then break off\nIf they don't kick in the bread then take off\nColombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\nColombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\nTwo shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n\nAnd my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\nShit! Get the door\nOh man the police, come on get out of here man\nFlush the shit, flush the coke!","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.11] Man what you need man?\n[00:05.58] Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n[00:07.67] Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n[00:10.89] Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n[00:14.01] My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n[00:17.20] I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n[00:21.72] Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n[00:24.69] Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n[00:27.26] Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n[00:29.62] Busting on niggas if they act up\n[00:31.53] On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n[00:34.16] Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n[00:36.90] Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n[00:39.51] For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n[00:41.74] Got it sewed up for real\n[00:43.30] Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n[00:45.64] '98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n[00:48.12] Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n[00:50.57] It feel like fuck trust\n[00:51.91] A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n[00:55.13] Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n[00:56.82] It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n[00:59.93] Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n[01:03.21] The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n[01:05.34] The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n[01:07.48] With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n[01:10.00] Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n[01:12.89] Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n[01:15.48] Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n[01:17.35] What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n[01:20.24] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[01:22.49] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[01:25.14] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[01:27.31] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[01:29.39] We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n[01:32.05] With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n[01:34.42] Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n[01:36.92] Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n[01:39.14] Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n[01:41.68] When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n[01:44.14] I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n[01:46.78] And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n[01:49.14] Every nigga on the street is paid\n[01:51.44] A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n[01:54.09] Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n[01:56.79] Time to hit off, get off then break off\n[01:59.15] If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n[02:01.34] Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n[02:04.91] Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n[02:08.14] Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n[02:11.06] And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n[02:13.96] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[02:16.15] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[02:18.70] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:21.06] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[02:23.80] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[02:25.89] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[02:28.56] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:30.78] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[02:34.77] Shit! Get the door\n[02:37.92] Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n[02:40.72] Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n[02:52.70] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Ya Can't Trust Nobody\n artist: Kurupt\n album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha [Clean]\n duration_ms: 172000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Man what you need man?\n start_ms: 3110\n end_ms: 5580\n- text: Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n start_ms: 5580\n end_ms: 7670\n- text: Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n start_ms: 7670\n end_ms: 10890\n- text: Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n start_ms: 10890\n end_ms: 14010\n- text: My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n start_ms: 14010\n end_ms: 17200\n- text: I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n start_ms: 17200\n end_ms: 21720\n- text: Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n start_ms: 21720\n end_ms: 24690\n- text: Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n start_ms: 24690\n end_ms: 27260\n- text: Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n start_ms: 27260\n end_ms: 29620\n- text: Busting on niggas if they act up\n start_ms: 29620\n end_ms: 31530\n- text: On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n start_ms: 31530\n end_ms: 34160\n- text: Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n start_ms: 34160\n end_ms: 36900\n- text: Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n start_ms: 36900\n end_ms: 39510\n- text: For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n start_ms: 39510\n end_ms: 41740\n- text: Got it sewed up for real\n start_ms: 41740\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 45640\n- text: '''98 My motto is kill, that''s how it is'\n start_ms: 45640\n end_ms: 48120\n- text: Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n start_ms: 48120\n end_ms: 50570\n- text: It feel like fuck trust\n start_ms: 50570\n end_ms: 51910\n- text: A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n start_ms: 51910\n end_ms: 55130\n- text: Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n start_ms: 55130\n end_ms: 56820\n- text: It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n start_ms: 56820\n end_ms: 59930\n- text: Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n start_ms: 59930\n end_ms: 63210\n- text: The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n start_ms: 63210\n end_ms: 65340\n- text: The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n start_ms: 65340\n end_ms: 67480\n- text: With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n start_ms: 67480\n end_ms: 70000\n- text: Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n start_ms: 70000\n end_ms: 72890\n- text: Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n start_ms: 72890\n end_ms: 75480\n- text: Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n start_ms: 75480\n end_ms: 77350\n- text: What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n start_ms: 77350\n end_ms: 80240\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 80240\n end_ms: 82490\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 82490\n end_ms: 85140\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 85140\n end_ms: 87310\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 87310\n end_ms: 89390\n- text: We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n start_ms: 89390\n end_ms: 92050\n- text: With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n start_ms: 92050\n end_ms: 94420\n- text: Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n start_ms: 94420\n end_ms: 96920\n- text: Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n start_ms: 96920\n end_ms: 99140\n- text: Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n start_ms: 99140\n end_ms: 101680\n- text: When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n start_ms: 101680\n end_ms: 104140\n- text: I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n start_ms: 104140\n end_ms: 106780\n- text: And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n start_ms: 106780\n end_ms: 109140\n- text: Every nigga on the street is paid\n start_ms: 109140\n end_ms: 111440\n- text: A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n start_ms: 111440\n end_ms: 114090\n- text: Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n start_ms: 114090\n end_ms: 116790\n- text: Time to hit off, get off then break off\n start_ms: 116790\n end_ms: 119150\n- text: If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n start_ms: 119150\n end_ms: 121340\n- text: Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n start_ms: 121340\n end_ms: 124910\n- text: Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n start_ms: 124910\n end_ms: 128140\n- text: Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n start_ms: 128140\n end_ms: 131060\n- text: And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n start_ms: 131060\n end_ms: 133960\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 133960\n end_ms: 136150\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 136150\n end_ms: 138700\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 138700\n end_ms: 141060\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 141060\n end_ms: 143800\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 143800\n end_ms: 145890\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 145890\n end_ms: 148560\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 148560\n end_ms: 150780\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 150780\n end_ms: 154770\n- text: Shit! Get the door\n start_ms: 154770\n end_ms: 157920\n- text: Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n start_ms: 157920\n end_ms: 160720\n- text: Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n start_ms: 160720\n end_ms: 172700\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 172700\nplain: |-\n Man what you need man?\n Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n\n Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n Busting on niggas if they act up\n\n On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n\n Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n Got it sewed up for real\n Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n '98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n\n It feel like fuck trust\n A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\n Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\n Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\n We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n Every nigga on the street is paid\n\n A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n Time to hit off, get off then break off\n If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n\n And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\n Shit! Get the door\n Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n"},{"id":31682205,"name":"Ya Can't Trust Nobody","trackName":"Ya Can't Trust Nobody","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha","duration":175.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Man what you need man?\nYour bitch ass always coming around here with this\nWhole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\nNigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\nMy bills gotta get paid motherfucker\nI'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n\nHop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\nWhether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\nMe and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\nBusting on niggas if they act up\n\nOn a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\nChi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n\nCops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\nFor these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\nGot it sewed up for real\nDealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n'98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\nFuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n\nIt feel like fuck trust\nA nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\nStacking, stolen stacks stacking\nIt ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\nCracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\nThe dark parts of the motherfucking park\nThe tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\nWith something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\nRepeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\nShot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\nAin't no faking, we all out to get paid\nWhat niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\nWe jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\nWith a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\nNow we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\nEvery day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\nLike, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\nWhen I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\nI'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\nAnd it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\nEvery nigga on the street is paid\n\nA couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\nWarfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\nTime to hit off, get off then break off\nIf they don't kick in the bread then take off\nColombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\nColombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\nTwo shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n\nAnd my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\nShit! Get the door\nOh man the police, come on get out of here man\nFlush the shit, flush the coke!","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.11] Man what you need man?\n[00:05.58] Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n[00:07.67] Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n[00:10.89] Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n[00:14.01] My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n[00:17.20] I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n[00:21.72] Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n[00:24.69] Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n[00:27.26] Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n[00:29.62] Busting on niggas if they act up\n[00:31.53] On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n[00:34.16] Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n[00:36.90] Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n[00:39.51] For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n[00:41.74] Got it sewed up for real\n[00:43.30] Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n[00:45.64] '98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n[00:48.12] Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n[00:50.57] It feel like fuck trust\n[00:51.91] A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n[00:55.13] Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n[00:56.82] It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n[00:59.93] Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n[01:03.21] The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n[01:05.34] The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n[01:07.48] With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n[01:10.00] Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n[01:12.89] Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n[01:15.48] Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n[01:17.35] What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n[01:20.24] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[01:22.49] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[01:25.14] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[01:27.31] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[01:29.39] We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n[01:32.05] With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n[01:34.42] Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n[01:36.92] Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n[01:39.14] Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n[01:41.68] When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n[01:44.14] I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n[01:46.78] And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n[01:49.14] Every nigga on the street is paid\n[01:51.44] A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n[01:54.09] Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n[01:56.79] Time to hit off, get off then break off\n[01:59.15] If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n[02:01.34] Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n[02:04.91] Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n[02:08.14] Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n[02:11.06] And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n[02:13.96] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[02:16.15] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[02:18.70] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:21.06] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[02:23.80] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[02:25.89] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[02:28.56] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:30.78] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[02:34.77] Shit! Get the door\n[02:37.92] Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n[02:40.72] Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n[02:52.70] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Ya Can't Trust Nobody\n artist: Kurupt\n album: Tha Streetz Iz a Mutha\n duration_ms: 175000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Man what you need man?\n start_ms: 3110\n end_ms: 5580\n- text: Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n start_ms: 5580\n end_ms: 7670\n- text: Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n start_ms: 7670\n end_ms: 10890\n- text: Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n start_ms: 10890\n end_ms: 14010\n- text: My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n start_ms: 14010\n end_ms: 17200\n- text: I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n start_ms: 17200\n end_ms: 21720\n- text: Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n start_ms: 21720\n end_ms: 24690\n- text: Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n start_ms: 24690\n end_ms: 27260\n- text: Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n start_ms: 27260\n end_ms: 29620\n- text: Busting on niggas if they act up\n start_ms: 29620\n end_ms: 31530\n- text: On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n start_ms: 31530\n end_ms: 34160\n- text: Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n start_ms: 34160\n end_ms: 36900\n- text: Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n start_ms: 36900\n end_ms: 39510\n- text: For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n start_ms: 39510\n end_ms: 41740\n- text: Got it sewed up for real\n start_ms: 41740\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 45640\n- text: '''98 My motto is kill, that''s how it is'\n start_ms: 45640\n end_ms: 48120\n- text: Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n start_ms: 48120\n end_ms: 50570\n- text: It feel like fuck trust\n start_ms: 50570\n end_ms: 51910\n- text: A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n start_ms: 51910\n end_ms: 55130\n- text: Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n start_ms: 55130\n end_ms: 56820\n- text: It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n start_ms: 56820\n end_ms: 59930\n- text: Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n start_ms: 59930\n end_ms: 63210\n- text: The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n start_ms: 63210\n end_ms: 65340\n- text: The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n start_ms: 65340\n end_ms: 67480\n- text: With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n start_ms: 67480\n end_ms: 70000\n- text: Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n start_ms: 70000\n end_ms: 72890\n- text: Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n start_ms: 72890\n end_ms: 75480\n- text: Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n start_ms: 75480\n end_ms: 77350\n- text: What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n start_ms: 77350\n end_ms: 80240\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 80240\n end_ms: 82490\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 82490\n end_ms: 85140\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 85140\n end_ms: 87310\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 87310\n end_ms: 89390\n- text: We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n start_ms: 89390\n end_ms: 92050\n- text: With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n start_ms: 92050\n end_ms: 94420\n- text: Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n start_ms: 94420\n end_ms: 96920\n- text: Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n start_ms: 96920\n end_ms: 99140\n- text: Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n start_ms: 99140\n end_ms: 101680\n- text: When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n start_ms: 101680\n end_ms: 104140\n- text: I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n start_ms: 104140\n end_ms: 106780\n- text: And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n start_ms: 106780\n end_ms: 109140\n- text: Every nigga on the street is paid\n start_ms: 109140\n end_ms: 111440\n- text: A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n start_ms: 111440\n end_ms: 114090\n- text: Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n start_ms: 114090\n end_ms: 116790\n- text: Time to hit off, get off then break off\n start_ms: 116790\n end_ms: 119150\n- text: If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n start_ms: 119150\n end_ms: 121340\n- text: Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n start_ms: 121340\n end_ms: 124910\n- text: Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n start_ms: 124910\n end_ms: 128140\n- text: Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n start_ms: 128140\n end_ms: 131060\n- text: And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n start_ms: 131060\n end_ms: 133960\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 133960\n end_ms: 136150\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 136150\n end_ms: 138700\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 138700\n end_ms: 141060\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 141060\n end_ms: 143800\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 143800\n end_ms: 145890\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 145890\n end_ms: 148560\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 148560\n end_ms: 150780\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 150780\n end_ms: 154770\n- text: Shit! Get the door\n start_ms: 154770\n end_ms: 157920\n- text: Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n start_ms: 157920\n end_ms: 160720\n- text: Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n start_ms: 160720\n end_ms: 172700\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 172700\nplain: |-\n Man what you need man?\n Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n\n Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n Busting on niggas if they act up\n\n On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n\n Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n Got it sewed up for real\n Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n '98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n\n It feel like fuck trust\n A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\n Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\n Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\n We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n Every nigga on the street is paid\n\n A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n Time to hit off, get off then break off\n If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n\n And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\n Shit! Get the door\n Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n"},{"id":28069919,"name":"Ya Can't Trust Nobody","trackName":"Ya Can't Trust Nobody","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha","duration":172.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Man what you need man?\nYour bitch ass always coming around here with this\nWhole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\nNigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\nMy bills gotta get paid motherfucker\nI'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n\nHop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\nWhether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\nMe and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\nBusting on niggas if they act up\n\nOn a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\nChi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n\nCops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\nFor these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\nGot it sewed up for real\nDealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n'98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\nFuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n\nIt feel like fuck trust\nA nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\nStacking, stolen stacks stacking\nIt ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\nCracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\nThe dark parts of the motherfucking park\nThe tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\nWith something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\nRepeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\nShot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\nAin't no faking, we all out to get paid\nWhat niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\nWe jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\nWith a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\nNow we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\nEvery day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\nLike, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\nWhen I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\nI'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\nAnd it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\nEvery nigga on the street is paid\n\nA couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\nWarfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\nTime to hit off, get off then break off\nIf they don't kick in the bread then take off\nColombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\nColombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\nTwo shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n\nAnd my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\nShit! Get the door\nOh man the police, come on get out of here man\nFlush the shit, flush the coke!","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.11] Man what you need man?\n[00:05.58] Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n[00:07.67] Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n[00:10.89] Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n[00:14.01] My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n[00:17.20] I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n[00:21.72] Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n[00:24.69] Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n[00:27.26] Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n[00:29.62] Busting on niggas if they act up\n[00:31.53] On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n[00:34.16] Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n[00:36.90] Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n[00:39.51] For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n[00:41.74] Got it sewed up for real\n[00:43.30] Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n[00:45.64] '98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n[00:48.12] Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n[00:50.57] It feel like fuck trust\n[00:51.91] A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n[00:55.13] Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n[00:56.82] It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n[00:59.93] Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n[01:03.21] The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n[01:05.34] The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n[01:07.48] With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n[01:10.00] Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n[01:12.89] Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n[01:15.48] Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n[01:17.35] What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n[01:20.24] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[01:22.49] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[01:25.14] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[01:27.31] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[01:29.39] We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n[01:32.05] With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n[01:34.42] Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n[01:36.92] Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n[01:39.14] Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n[01:41.68] When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n[01:44.14] I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n[01:46.78] And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n[01:49.14] Every nigga on the street is paid\n[01:51.44] A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n[01:54.09] Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n[01:56.79] Time to hit off, get off then break off\n[01:59.15] If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n[02:01.34] Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n[02:04.91] Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n[02:08.14] Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n[02:11.06] And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n[02:13.96] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[02:16.15] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[02:18.70] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:21.06] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[02:23.80] Around here you can't trust nobody\n[02:25.89] Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[02:28.56] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:30.78] Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[02:34.77] Shit! Get the door\n[02:37.92] Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n[02:40.72] Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n[02:52.70] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Ya Can't Trust Nobody\n artist: Kurupt\n album: Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha\n duration_ms: 172000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Man what you need man?\n start_ms: 3110\n end_ms: 5580\n- text: Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n start_ms: 5580\n end_ms: 7670\n- text: Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n start_ms: 7670\n end_ms: 10890\n- text: Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n start_ms: 10890\n end_ms: 14010\n- text: My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n start_ms: 14010\n end_ms: 17200\n- text: I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n start_ms: 17200\n end_ms: 21720\n- text: Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n start_ms: 21720\n end_ms: 24690\n- text: Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n start_ms: 24690\n end_ms: 27260\n- text: Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n start_ms: 27260\n end_ms: 29620\n- text: Busting on niggas if they act up\n start_ms: 29620\n end_ms: 31530\n- text: On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n start_ms: 31530\n end_ms: 34160\n- text: Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n start_ms: 34160\n end_ms: 36900\n- text: Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n start_ms: 36900\n end_ms: 39510\n- text: For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n start_ms: 39510\n end_ms: 41740\n- text: Got it sewed up for real\n start_ms: 41740\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 45640\n- text: '''98 My motto is kill, that''s how it is'\n start_ms: 45640\n end_ms: 48120\n- text: Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n start_ms: 48120\n end_ms: 50570\n- text: It feel like fuck trust\n start_ms: 50570\n end_ms: 51910\n- text: A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n start_ms: 51910\n end_ms: 55130\n- text: Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n start_ms: 55130\n end_ms: 56820\n- text: It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n start_ms: 56820\n end_ms: 59930\n- text: Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n start_ms: 59930\n end_ms: 63210\n- text: The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n start_ms: 63210\n end_ms: 65340\n- text: The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n start_ms: 65340\n end_ms: 67480\n- text: With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n start_ms: 67480\n end_ms: 70000\n- text: Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n start_ms: 70000\n end_ms: 72890\n- text: Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n start_ms: 72890\n end_ms: 75480\n- text: Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n start_ms: 75480\n end_ms: 77350\n- text: What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n start_ms: 77350\n end_ms: 80240\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 80240\n end_ms: 82490\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 82490\n end_ms: 85140\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 85140\n end_ms: 87310\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 87310\n end_ms: 89390\n- text: We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n start_ms: 89390\n end_ms: 92050\n- text: With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n start_ms: 92050\n end_ms: 94420\n- text: Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n start_ms: 94420\n end_ms: 96920\n- text: Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n start_ms: 96920\n end_ms: 99140\n- text: Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n start_ms: 99140\n end_ms: 101680\n- text: When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n start_ms: 101680\n end_ms: 104140\n- text: I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n start_ms: 104140\n end_ms: 106780\n- text: And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n start_ms: 106780\n end_ms: 109140\n- text: Every nigga on the street is paid\n start_ms: 109140\n end_ms: 111440\n- text: A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n start_ms: 111440\n end_ms: 114090\n- text: Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n start_ms: 114090\n end_ms: 116790\n- text: Time to hit off, get off then break off\n start_ms: 116790\n end_ms: 119150\n- text: If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n start_ms: 119150\n end_ms: 121340\n- text: Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n start_ms: 121340\n end_ms: 124910\n- text: Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n start_ms: 124910\n end_ms: 128140\n- text: Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n start_ms: 128140\n end_ms: 131060\n- text: And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n start_ms: 131060\n end_ms: 133960\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 133960\n end_ms: 136150\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 136150\n end_ms: 138700\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 138700\n end_ms: 141060\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 141060\n end_ms: 143800\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 143800\n end_ms: 145890\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 145890\n end_ms: 148560\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 148560\n end_ms: 150780\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 150780\n end_ms: 154770\n- text: Shit! Get the door\n start_ms: 154770\n end_ms: 157920\n- text: Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n start_ms: 157920\n end_ms: 160720\n- text: Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n start_ms: 160720\n end_ms: 172700\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 172700\nplain: |-\n Man what you need man?\n Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n\n Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n Busting on niggas if they act up\n\n On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n\n Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n Got it sewed up for real\n Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n '98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n\n It feel like fuck trust\n A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\n Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\n Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\n We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n Every nigga on the street is paid\n\n A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n Time to hit off, get off then break off\n If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n\n And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\n Shit! Get the door\n Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n"},{"id":39076276,"name":"Ya Cant Trust Nobody","trackName":"Ya Cant Trust Nobody","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Streets iz a Mutha","duration":172.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Man what you need man?\nYour bitch ass always coming around here with this\nWhole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\nNigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\nMy bills gotta get paid motherfucker\nI'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n\nHop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\nWhether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\nMe and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\nBusting on niggas if they act up\n\nOn a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\nChi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n\nCops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\nFor these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\nGot it sewed up for real\nDealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n'98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\nFuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n\nIt feel like fuck trust\nA nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\nStacking, stolen stacks stacking\nIt ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\nCracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\nThe dark parts of the motherfucking park\nThe tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\nWith something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\nRepeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\nShot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\nAin't no faking, we all out to get paid\nWhat niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\nWe jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\nWith a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\nNow we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\nEvery day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\nLike, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\nWhen I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\nI'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\nAnd it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\nEvery nigga on the street is paid\n\nA couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\nWarfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\nTime to hit off, get off then break off\nIf they don't kick in the bread then take off\nColombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\nColombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\nTwo shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n\nAnd my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\nAround here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\nShit! Get the door\nOh man the police, come on get out of here man\nFlush the shit, flush the coke!","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.11]Man what you need man?\n[00:05.58]Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n[00:07.67]Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n[00:10.89]Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n[00:14.01]My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n[00:17.20]I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n[00:21.72]Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n[00:24.69]Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n[00:27.26]Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n[00:29.62]Busting on niggas if they act up\n[00:31.53]On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n[00:34.16]Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n[00:36.90]Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n[00:39.51]For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n[00:41.74]Got it sewed up for real\n[00:43.30]Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n[00:45.64]'98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n[00:48.12]Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n[00:50.57]It feel like fuck trust\n[00:51.91]A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n[00:55.13]Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n[00:56.82]It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n[00:59.93]Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n[01:03.21]The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n[01:05.34]The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n[01:07.48]With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n[01:10.00]Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n[01:12.89]Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n[01:15.48]Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n[01:17.35]What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n[01:20.24]Around here you can't trust nobody\n[01:22.49]Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[01:25.14]Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[01:27.31]Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[01:29.39]We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n[01:32.05]With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n[01:34.42]Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n[01:36.92]Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n[01:39.14]Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n[01:41.68]When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n[01:44.14]I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n[01:46.78]And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n[01:49.14]Every nigga on the street is paid\n[01:51.44]A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n[01:54.09]Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n[01:56.79]Time to hit off, get off then break off\n[01:59.15]If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n[02:01.34]Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n[02:04.91]Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n[02:08.14]Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n[02:11.06]And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n[02:13.96]Around here you can't trust nobody\n[02:16.15]Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[02:18.70]Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:21.06]Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[02:23.80]Around here you can't trust nobody\n[02:25.89]Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n[02:28.56]Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:30.78]Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n[02:34.77]Shit! Get the door\n[02:37.92]Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n[02:40.72]Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n[02:52.70]","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Ya Cant Trust Nobody\n artist: Kurupt\n album: Streets iz a Mutha\n duration_ms: 172000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Man what you need man?\n start_ms: 3110\n end_ms: 5580\n- text: Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n start_ms: 5580\n end_ms: 7670\n- text: Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n start_ms: 7670\n end_ms: 10890\n- text: Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n start_ms: 10890\n end_ms: 14010\n- text: My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n start_ms: 14010\n end_ms: 17200\n- text: I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n start_ms: 17200\n end_ms: 21720\n- text: Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n start_ms: 21720\n end_ms: 24690\n- text: Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n start_ms: 24690\n end_ms: 27260\n- text: Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n start_ms: 27260\n end_ms: 29620\n- text: Busting on niggas if they act up\n start_ms: 29620\n end_ms: 31530\n- text: On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n start_ms: 31530\n end_ms: 34160\n- text: Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n start_ms: 34160\n end_ms: 36900\n- text: Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n start_ms: 36900\n end_ms: 39510\n- text: For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n start_ms: 39510\n end_ms: 41740\n- text: Got it sewed up for real\n start_ms: 41740\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 45640\n- text: '''98 My motto is kill, that''s how it is'\n start_ms: 45640\n end_ms: 48120\n- text: Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n start_ms: 48120\n end_ms: 50570\n- text: It feel like fuck trust\n start_ms: 50570\n end_ms: 51910\n- text: A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n start_ms: 51910\n end_ms: 55130\n- text: Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n start_ms: 55130\n end_ms: 56820\n- text: It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n start_ms: 56820\n end_ms: 59930\n- text: Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n start_ms: 59930\n end_ms: 63210\n- text: The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n start_ms: 63210\n end_ms: 65340\n- text: The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n start_ms: 65340\n end_ms: 67480\n- text: With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n start_ms: 67480\n end_ms: 70000\n- text: Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n start_ms: 70000\n end_ms: 72890\n- text: Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n start_ms: 72890\n end_ms: 75480\n- text: Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n start_ms: 75480\n end_ms: 77350\n- text: What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n start_ms: 77350\n end_ms: 80240\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 80240\n end_ms: 82490\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 82490\n end_ms: 85140\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 85140\n end_ms: 87310\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 87310\n end_ms: 89390\n- text: We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n start_ms: 89390\n end_ms: 92050\n- text: With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n start_ms: 92050\n end_ms: 94420\n- text: Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n start_ms: 94420\n end_ms: 96920\n- text: Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n start_ms: 96920\n end_ms: 99140\n- text: Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n start_ms: 99140\n end_ms: 101680\n- text: When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n start_ms: 101680\n end_ms: 104140\n- text: I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n start_ms: 104140\n end_ms: 106780\n- text: And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n start_ms: 106780\n end_ms: 109140\n- text: Every nigga on the street is paid\n start_ms: 109140\n end_ms: 111440\n- text: A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n start_ms: 111440\n end_ms: 114090\n- text: Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n start_ms: 114090\n end_ms: 116790\n- text: Time to hit off, get off then break off\n start_ms: 116790\n end_ms: 119150\n- text: If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n start_ms: 119150\n end_ms: 121340\n- text: Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n start_ms: 121340\n end_ms: 124910\n- text: Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n start_ms: 124910\n end_ms: 128140\n- text: Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n start_ms: 128140\n end_ms: 131060\n- text: And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n start_ms: 131060\n end_ms: 133960\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 133960\n end_ms: 136150\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 136150\n end_ms: 138700\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 138700\n end_ms: 141060\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 141060\n end_ms: 143800\n- text: Around here you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 143800\n end_ms: 145890\n- text: Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n start_ms: 145890\n end_ms: 148560\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 148560\n end_ms: 150780\n- text: Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 150780\n end_ms: 154770\n- text: Shit! Get the door\n start_ms: 154770\n end_ms: 157920\n- text: Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n start_ms: 157920\n end_ms: 160720\n- text: Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n start_ms: 160720\n end_ms: 172700\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 172700\nplain: |-\n Man what you need man?\n Your bitch ass always coming around here with this\n Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar, his shit\n Nigga come around here with a twenty sack or something nigga\n My bills gotta get paid motherfucker\n I'm out of here, catch me next week, peace!\n\n Hop in my Chevy, get to wheeling down the block, make the sales\n Whether slanging weed or rocks, clocking me strapped up\n Me and my niggas in the house, might as well back up\n Busting on niggas if they act up\n\n On a mission with my gang around, yeah we run things\n Chi-pang every night where we hang, cause it's a street thing\n\n Cops in automatic weapon keep a nigga intact\n For these niggas half-stepping, Dash Dillinger\n Got it sewed up for real\n Dealers serving these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n '98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n Fuck my family, fuck my friends, run my dope and then...\n\n It feel like fuck trust\n A nigga lose his life trying to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\n Stacking, stolen stacks stacking\n It ain't nothing but murders, kidnappings, jackings and vault cracking\n Cracking up in these parts, heat sparks up in these parts\n The dark parts of the motherfucking park\n The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n With something in my right palm to keep y'all seated down\n Repeated, head hunting, hunting for heads\n Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\n Ain't no faking, we all out to get paid\n What niggas wouldn't do nowadays, nigga\n\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\n We jacked a nigga for a half a thing, we back in business\n With a flock of these chickens, worth three and a half million\n Now we set, relaxed, chilling, living the boss life\n Every day, every night eating in the Colombian's taste\n Like, eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n When I flip what I make back, twelve million G's\n I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transporting the sauce\n And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n Every nigga on the street is paid\n\n A couple pieces spread, bare arms nigga\n Warfare nigga, shut down the alarms nigga\n Time to hit off, get off then break off\n If they don't kick in the bread then take off\n Colombian ties, Colombian mob members in Colombian neckties\n Colombians disfigured, Dash, Mini Machine, Dillinger\n Two shotty young Gotti, about to put it on somebody\n\n And my mind state today is fuck everybody!\n\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n Around here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody trying to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go you can't trust nobody\n\n Shit! Get the door\n Oh man the police, come on get out of here man\n Flush the shit, flush the coke!\n"},{"id":36073248,"name":"Ya Can't Trust Nobody (Feat. Daz)","trackName":"Ya Can't Trust Nobody (Feat. Daz)","artistName":"Kurupt","albumName":"Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha","duration":173.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Man, what you need, man?\nYour bitch ass always come around here with this\nWhole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar hit shit\nCome around here with a twenty sack or something, nigga\nMy bills gotta get paid, motherfucker\nI'm outta here\nCatch me next week\n\nHop in my Chevy, get to wheelin' down the block\nMake the sales, whether slangin' weed or rocks\nGlock and mag strapped up, me and my niggas in the house\nMight as well back up, bustin' on niggas if they act up\n\nOn a mission with my gang around\nYeah, we run things, champagne every night where we hang\n'Cause it's a street thang\nCops in automatic weapons keep a nigga in tact\nFor these niggas half-steppin', Dash Dillinger\nGot it sewed up for real\nDealers servin' these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n\n'98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\nFamily over friends, run my dope and then this\n\nYou feel like you can't trust\nA nigga lose his life tryin' to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\nStackin', stolen stacks stackin'\nIt ain't nothin' but murders, kidnappings, jackings\nAnd vault crackin', crackin' up in these parts\nHeat sparks up in these parts\nThe dark parts of the motherfuckin' park\nThe tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\nWith somethin' in my right palm'll keep y'all seated down\nRepeat it, head huntin', huntin' for heads\nShot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\nAin't no fakin', we all out to get paid\nWhat niggas went and do now, they\n\n'Round here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n\nWe jacked a nigga for a half a thang, we back in business\nWith a flock of these chickens worth three and a half million\nNow we set, relaxed, chillin', livin' the boss life\nEvery day, every night, me and the Colombians take flight\nEight hundred keys to fly across seas\nWhen I flip it, I make back twelve million G's\nI'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transportin' the sauce\nAnd it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\nEvery nigga on the street is paid\n\nA couple pieces spread, bare arms\nOver in fear, niggas shut down the alarm\nNigga, time to hit off, get off, then break off\nIf they don't kick in the bread, then take off\nColombian ties, Colombian mob members\nIn Colombian neckties, Colombians disfigured\nDash mini-machine Dillinger\nTwo shotty young Gotti 'bout to put it on somebody\n\nAnd my mind state today, I'll fuck everybody\n\n'Round here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n'Round here you can't trust nobody\nAnybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\nWhether it's weed or your life in narcotics\nAnywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n\nShit, get the door\nOh man, the police, come on, get out of here, man\nRush the—, rush the car","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.14] Man, what you need, man?\n[00:05.50] Your bitch ass always come around here with this\n[00:07.68] Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar hit shit\n[00:11.04] Come around here with a twenty sack or something, nigga\n[00:14.09] My bills gotta get paid, motherfucker\n[00:17.23] I'm outta here\n[00:19.28] Catch me next week\n[00:21.71] Hop in my Chevy, get to wheelin' down the block\n[00:23.66] Make the sales, whether slangin' weed or rocks\n[00:25.95] Glock and mag strapped up, me and my niggas in the house\n[00:28.56] Might as well back up, bustin' on niggas if they act up\n[00:31.52] On a mission with my gang around\n[00:33.15] Yeah, we run things, champagne every night where we hang\n[00:35.73] 'Cause it's a street thang\n[00:36.92] Cops in automatic weapons keep a nigga in tact\n[00:39.54] For these niggas half-steppin', Dash Dillinger\n[00:41.70] Got it sewed up for real\n[00:43.30] Dealers servin' these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n[00:45.61] '98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n[00:48.12] Family over friends, run my dope and then this\n[00:50.53] You feel like you can't trust\n[00:51.99] A nigga lose his life tryin' to trust some motherfuckers like us\n[00:55.18] Stackin', stolen stacks stackin'\n[00:56.87] It ain't nothin' but murders, kidnappings, jackings\n[00:59.05] And vault crackin', crackin' up in these parts\n[01:01.50] Heat sparks up in these parts\n[01:03.23] The dark parts of the motherfuckin' park\n[01:05.34] The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n[01:07.46] With somethin' in my right palm'll keep y'all seated down\n[01:10.09] Repeat it, head huntin', huntin' for heads\n[01:12.88] Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n[01:15.40] Ain't no fakin', we all out to get paid\n[01:17.39] What niggas went and do now, they\n[01:20.46] 'Round here you can't trust nobody\n[01:22.44] Anybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\n[01:25.19] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[01:27.39] Anywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n[01:29.33] We jacked a nigga for a half a thang, we back in business\n[01:32.00] With a flock of these chickens worth three and a half million\n[01:34.46] Now we set, relaxed, chillin', livin' the boss life\n[01:36.99] Every day, every night, me and the Colombians take flight\n[01:39.67] Eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n[01:41.69] When I flip it, I make back twelve million G's\n[01:44.14] I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transportin' the sauce\n[01:46.70] And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n[01:49.11] Every nigga on the street is paid\n[01:51.49] A couple pieces spread, bare arms\n[01:53.61] Over in fear, niggas shut down the alarm\n[01:55.92] Nigga, time to hit off, get off, then break off\n[01:59.20] If they don't kick in the bread, then take off\n[02:01.33] Colombian ties, Colombian mob members\n[02:03.55] In Colombian neckties, Colombians disfigured\n[02:06.50] Dash mini-machine Dillinger\n[02:08.13] Two shotty young Gotti 'bout to put it on somebody\n[02:11.02] And my mind state today, I'll fuck everybody\n[02:13.95] 'Round here you can't trust nobody\n[02:16.12] Anybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\n[02:18.76] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:21.00] Anywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n[02:23.79] 'Round here you can't trust nobody\n[02:25.85] Anybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\n[02:28.58] Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n[02:30.79] Anywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n[02:34.46] Shit, get the door\n[02:37.94] Oh man, the police, come on, get out of here, man\n[02:40.74] Rush the—, rush the car\n[02:52.64] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Ya Can't Trust Nobody (Feat. Daz)\n artist: Kurupt\n album: Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha\n duration_ms: 173000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Man, what you need, man?\n start_ms: 3140\n end_ms: 5500\n- text: Your bitch ass always come around here with this\n start_ms: 5500\n end_ms: 7680\n- text: Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar hit shit\n start_ms: 7680\n end_ms: 11040\n- text: Come around here with a twenty sack or something, nigga\n start_ms: 11040\n end_ms: 14090\n- text: My bills gotta get paid, motherfucker\n start_ms: 14090\n end_ms: 17230\n- text: I'm outta here\n start_ms: 17230\n end_ms: 19280\n- text: Catch me next week\n start_ms: 19280\n end_ms: 21710\n- text: Hop in my Chevy, get to wheelin' down the block\n start_ms: 21710\n end_ms: 23660\n- text: Make the sales, whether slangin' weed or rocks\n start_ms: 23660\n end_ms: 25950\n- text: Glock and mag strapped up, me and my niggas in the house\n start_ms: 25950\n end_ms: 28560\n- text: Might as well back up, bustin' on niggas if they act up\n start_ms: 28560\n end_ms: 31520\n- text: On a mission with my gang around\n start_ms: 31520\n end_ms: 33150\n- text: Yeah, we run things, champagne every night where we hang\n start_ms: 33150\n end_ms: 35730\n- text: '''Cause it''s a street thang'\n start_ms: 35730\n end_ms: 36920\n- text: Cops in automatic weapons keep a nigga in tact\n start_ms: 36920\n end_ms: 39540\n- text: For these niggas half-steppin', Dash Dillinger\n start_ms: 39540\n end_ms: 41700\n- text: Got it sewed up for real\n start_ms: 41700\n end_ms: 43300\n- text: Dealers servin' these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n start_ms: 43300\n end_ms: 45610\n- text: '''98 My motto is kill, that''s how it is'\n start_ms: 45610\n end_ms: 48120\n- text: Family over friends, run my dope and then this\n start_ms: 48120\n end_ms: 50530\n- text: You feel like you can't trust\n start_ms: 50530\n end_ms: 51990\n- text: A nigga lose his life tryin' to trust some motherfuckers like us\n start_ms: 51990\n end_ms: 55180\n- text: Stackin', stolen stacks stackin'\n start_ms: 55180\n end_ms: 56870\n- text: It ain't nothin' but murders, kidnappings, jackings\n start_ms: 56870\n end_ms: 59050\n- text: And vault crackin', crackin' up in these parts\n start_ms: 59050\n end_ms: 61500\n- text: Heat sparks up in these parts\n start_ms: 61500\n end_ms: 63230\n- text: The dark parts of the motherfuckin' park\n start_ms: 63230\n end_ms: 65340\n- text: The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n start_ms: 65340\n end_ms: 67460\n- text: With somethin' in my right palm'll keep y'all seated down\n start_ms: 67460\n end_ms: 70090\n- text: Repeat it, head huntin', huntin' for heads\n start_ms: 70090\n end_ms: 72880\n- text: Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n start_ms: 72880\n end_ms: 75400\n- text: Ain't no fakin', we all out to get paid\n start_ms: 75400\n end_ms: 77390\n- text: What niggas went and do now, they\n start_ms: 77390\n end_ms: 80460\n- text: '''Round here you can''t trust nobody'\n start_ms: 80460\n end_ms: 82440\n- text: Anybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\n start_ms: 82440\n end_ms: 85190\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 85190\n end_ms: 87390\n- text: Anywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 87390\n end_ms: 89330\n- text: We jacked a nigga for a half a thang, we back in business\n start_ms: 89330\n end_ms: 92000\n- text: With a flock of these chickens worth three and a half million\n start_ms: 92000\n end_ms: 94460\n- text: Now we set, relaxed, chillin', livin' the boss life\n start_ms: 94460\n end_ms: 96990\n- text: Every day, every night, me and the Colombians take flight\n start_ms: 96990\n end_ms: 99670\n- text: Eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n start_ms: 99670\n end_ms: 101690\n- text: When I flip it, I make back twelve million G's\n start_ms: 101690\n end_ms: 104140\n- text: I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transportin' the sauce\n start_ms: 104140\n end_ms: 106700\n- text: And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n start_ms: 106700\n end_ms: 109110\n- text: Every nigga on the street is paid\n start_ms: 109110\n end_ms: 111490\n- text: A couple pieces spread, bare arms\n start_ms: 111490\n end_ms: 113610\n- text: Over in fear, niggas shut down the alarm\n start_ms: 113610\n end_ms: 115920\n- text: Nigga, time to hit off, get off, then break off\n start_ms: 115920\n end_ms: 119200\n- text: If they don't kick in the bread, then take off\n start_ms: 119200\n end_ms: 121330\n- text: Colombian ties, Colombian mob members\n start_ms: 121330\n end_ms: 123550\n- text: In Colombian neckties, Colombians disfigured\n start_ms: 123550\n end_ms: 126500\n- text: Dash mini-machine Dillinger\n start_ms: 126500\n end_ms: 128130\n- text: Two shotty young Gotti 'bout to put it on somebody\n start_ms: 128130\n end_ms: 131020\n- text: And my mind state today, I'll fuck everybody\n start_ms: 131020\n end_ms: 133950\n- text: '''Round here you can''t trust nobody'\n start_ms: 133950\n end_ms: 136120\n- text: Anybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\n start_ms: 136120\n end_ms: 138760\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 138760\n end_ms: 141000\n- text: Anywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 141000\n end_ms: 143790\n- text: '''Round here you can''t trust nobody'\n start_ms: 143790\n end_ms: 145850\n- text: Anybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\n start_ms: 145850\n end_ms: 148580\n- text: Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n start_ms: 148580\n end_ms: 150790\n- text: Anywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n start_ms: 150790\n end_ms: 154460\n- text: Shit, get the door\n start_ms: 154460\n end_ms: 157940\n- text: Oh man, the police, come on, get out of here, man\n start_ms: 157940\n end_ms: 160740\n- text: Rush the—, rush the car\n start_ms: 160740\n end_ms: 172640\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 172640\nplain: |-\n Man, what you need, man?\n Your bitch ass always come around here with this\n Whole three dollar, two dollar, five dollar hit shit\n Come around here with a twenty sack or something, nigga\n My bills gotta get paid, motherfucker\n I'm outta here\n Catch me next week\n\n Hop in my Chevy, get to wheelin' down the block\n Make the sales, whether slangin' weed or rocks\n Glock and mag strapped up, me and my niggas in the house\n Might as well back up, bustin' on niggas if they act up\n\n On a mission with my gang around\n Yeah, we run things, champagne every night where we hang\n 'Cause it's a street thang\n Cops in automatic weapons keep a nigga in tact\n For these niggas half-steppin', Dash Dillinger\n Got it sewed up for real\n Dealers servin' these niggas for a quarter of a mil'\n\n '98 My motto is kill, that's how it is\n Family over friends, run my dope and then this\n\n You feel like you can't trust\n A nigga lose his life tryin' to trust some motherfuckers like us\n\n Stackin', stolen stacks stackin'\n It ain't nothin' but murders, kidnappings, jackings\n And vault crackin', crackin' up in these parts\n Heat sparks up in these parts\n The dark parts of the motherfuckin' park\n The tarantula's loose and I'm heated now\n With somethin' in my right palm'll keep y'all seated down\n Repeat it, head huntin', huntin' for heads\n Shot in the chest, neck, arm and legs\n\n Ain't no fakin', we all out to get paid\n What niggas went and do now, they\n\n 'Round here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n\n We jacked a nigga for a half a thang, we back in business\n With a flock of these chickens worth three and a half million\n Now we set, relaxed, chillin', livin' the boss life\n Every day, every night, me and the Colombians take flight\n Eight hundred keys to fly across seas\n When I flip it, I make back twelve million G's\n I'm a 2000 Ricky Ross transportin' the sauce\n And it pay to be the boss, that's when your ass get crossed\n Every nigga on the street is paid\n\n A couple pieces spread, bare arms\n Over in fear, niggas shut down the alarm\n Nigga, time to hit off, get off, then break off\n If they don't kick in the bread, then take off\n Colombian ties, Colombian mob members\n In Colombian neckties, Colombians disfigured\n Dash mini-machine Dillinger\n Two shotty young Gotti 'bout to put it on somebody\n\n And my mind state today, I'll fuck everybody\n\n 'Round here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n 'Round here you can't trust nobody\n Anybody, somebody tryin' to jack somebody\n Whether it's weed or your life in narcotics\n Anywhere you go, you can't trust nobody\n\n Shit, get the door\n Oh man, the police, come on, get out of here, man\n Rush the—, rush the car\n"}]