[{"id":21148182,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"Lil Wayne - No Ceilings","duration":96.182875,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\nTestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\nGot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nWhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: Lil Wayne - No Ceilings\n  duration_ms: 96183\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  Testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":34389237,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"Lil Wayne (Chopped/Screwed)","duration":62.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\ntestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\ngot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nwhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.86] Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n[00:18.54] Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n[00:20.50] Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n[00:22.50] You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n[00:24.03] Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n[00:25.90] Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n[00:27.56] Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n[00:29.49] Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n[00:30.78] No tricks, man, those is for kids\n[00:32.99] Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n[00:35.05] Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n[00:36.90] You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n[00:38.52] I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n[00:40.29] Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n[00:42.02] We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n[00:44.13] And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n[00:46.20] Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n[00:52.53] Reppin' QB till the death of him\n[00:54.85] That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n[00:58.21] Track record, goes back to the Essence\n[01:01.02] Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n[01:02.73] I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n[01:04.46] I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n[01:06.33] Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n[01:08.06] But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n[01:10.41] Typecast in the same role\n[01:12.40] Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n[01:14.95] Cocaine white Range Rov'\n[01:16.89] Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n[01:18.70] I did real good for a project nigga\n[01:20.76] Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n[01:22.14] Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n[01:24.04] Guns in compartments hidden\n[01:25.54] I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n[01:27.84] Blessings, bowed down, respected\n[01:29.98] Chowed down, now my food's digested\n[01:31.74] Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n[01:33.62] That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n[01:35.38] Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n[01:37.62] Testin', testin'\n[01:38.43] Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n[01:40.85] Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n[01:42.46] I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n[01:44.18] Been in this shit since '91\n[01:46.49] Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n[01:47.98] Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n[01:49.52] Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n[01:51.42] Studied cowards and made power moves\n[01:53.68] Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n[01:55.48] You can say that's how I move\n[01:57.31] A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n[02:00.00] There go my nigga Wayne\n[02:01.16] Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n[02:02.83] \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n[02:04.76] I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n[02:07.72] Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n[02:10.35] I'm a shotta,\n[02:12.25] When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n[02:14.68] Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n[02:18.08] Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n[02:19.96] It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n[02:25.88] I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n[02:29.37] They ain't gon' fight\n[02:30.43] They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n[02:32.92] Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n[02:36.65] Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n[02:40.64] Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n[02:44.38] Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n[02:47.75] They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n[02:52.40] Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n[02:55.82] Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n[02:59.28] And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n[03:02.74] They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n[03:06.59] That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n[03:09.46] Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n[03:11.14] See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n[03:12.67] Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n[03:13.88] And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n[03:16.16] And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n[03:18.17] I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n[03:19.77] And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n[03:21.16] Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n[03:22.36] Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n[03:24.12] When I'm done (DAMN!)\n[03:25.80] You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n[03:28.83] And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n[03:32.55] Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n[03:36.44] What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n[03:38.58] You apostrophe bitch?\n[03:40.13] Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n[03:43.53] Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n[03:46.34] With tha Carter IV\n[03:48.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: Lil Wayne (Chopped/Screwed)\n  duration_ms: 62000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  start_ms: 13860\n  end_ms: 18540\n- text: Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  start_ms: 18540\n  end_ms: 20500\n- text: Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  start_ms: 20500\n  end_ms: 22500\n- text: You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  start_ms: 22500\n  end_ms: 24030\n- text: Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  start_ms: 24030\n  end_ms: 25900\n- text: Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  start_ms: 25900\n  end_ms: 27560\n- text: Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  start_ms: 27560\n  end_ms: 29490\n- text: Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  start_ms: 29490\n  end_ms: 30780\n- text: No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  start_ms: 30780\n  end_ms: 32990\n- text: Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  start_ms: 32990\n  end_ms: 35050\n- text: Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  start_ms: 35050\n  end_ms: 36900\n- text: You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  start_ms: 36900\n  end_ms: 38520\n- text: I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  start_ms: 38520\n  end_ms: 40290\n- text: Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  start_ms: 40290\n  end_ms: 42020\n- text: We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  start_ms: 42020\n  end_ms: 44130\n- text: And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  start_ms: 44130\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 52530\n- text: Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  start_ms: 52530\n  end_ms: 54850\n- text: That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  start_ms: 54850\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61020\n- text: Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  start_ms: 61020\n  end_ms: 62730\n- text: I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  start_ms: 62730\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 66330\n- text: Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  start_ms: 66330\n  end_ms: 68060\n- text: But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  start_ms: 68060\n  end_ms: 70410\n- text: Typecast in the same role\n  start_ms: 70410\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 74950\n- text: Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  start_ms: 74950\n  end_ms: 76890\n- text: Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  start_ms: 76890\n  end_ms: 78700\n- text: I did real good for a project nigga\n  start_ms: 78700\n  end_ms: 80760\n- text: Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  start_ms: 80760\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 84040\n- text: Guns in compartments hidden\n  start_ms: 84040\n  end_ms: 85540\n- text: I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  start_ms: 85540\n  end_ms: 87840\n- text: Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  start_ms: 87840\n  end_ms: 89980\n- text: Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  start_ms: 89980\n  end_ms: 91740\n- text: Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  start_ms: 91740\n  end_ms: 93620\n- text: That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  start_ms: 93620\n  end_ms: 95380\n- text: Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  start_ms: 95380\n  end_ms: 97620\n- text: Testin', testin'\n  start_ms: 97620\n  end_ms: 98430\n- text: Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  start_ms: 98430\n  end_ms: 100850\n- text: Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  start_ms: 100850\n  end_ms: 102460\n- text: I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  start_ms: 102460\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: Been in this shit since '91\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106490\n- text: Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  start_ms: 106490\n  end_ms: 107980\n- text: Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  start_ms: 107980\n  end_ms: 109520\n- text: Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  start_ms: 109520\n  end_ms: 111420\n- text: Studied cowards and made power moves\n  start_ms: 111420\n  end_ms: 113680\n- text: Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  start_ms: 113680\n  end_ms: 115480\n- text: You can say that's how I move\n  start_ms: 115480\n  end_ms: 117310\n- text: A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  start_ms: 117310\n  end_ms: 120000\n- text: There go my nigga Wayne\n  start_ms: 120000\n  end_ms: 121160\n- text: Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  start_ms: 121160\n  end_ms: 122830\n- text: '\"We ain''t got time to respond to niggas\"'\n  start_ms: 122830\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: I'm a shotta,\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 132250\n- text: When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  start_ms: 132250\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 138080\n- text: Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  start_ms: 138080\n  end_ms: 139960\n- text: It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  start_ms: 139960\n  end_ms: 145880\n- text: I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  start_ms: 145880\n  end_ms: 149370\n- text: They ain't gon' fight\n  start_ms: 149370\n  end_ms: 150430\n- text: They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  start_ms: 150430\n  end_ms: 152920\n- text: Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  start_ms: 152920\n  end_ms: 156650\n- text: Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  start_ms: 156650\n  end_ms: 160640\n- text: Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  start_ms: 160640\n  end_ms: 164380\n- text: Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  start_ms: 164380\n  end_ms: 167750\n- text: They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  start_ms: 167750\n  end_ms: 172400\n- text: Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  start_ms: 172400\n  end_ms: 175820\n- text: Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  start_ms: 175820\n  end_ms: 179280\n- text: And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  start_ms: 179280\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 186590\n- text: That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  start_ms: 186590\n  end_ms: 189460\n- text: Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  start_ms: 189460\n  end_ms: 191140\n- text: See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  start_ms: 191140\n  end_ms: 192670\n- text: Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  start_ms: 192670\n  end_ms: 193880\n- text: And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  start_ms: 193880\n  end_ms: 196160\n- text: And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n  start_ms: 196160\n  end_ms: 198170\n- text: I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  start_ms: 198170\n  end_ms: 199770\n- text: And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  start_ms: 199770\n  end_ms: 201160\n- text: Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  start_ms: 201160\n  end_ms: 202360\n- text: Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  start_ms: 202360\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 205800\n- text: You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  start_ms: 205800\n  end_ms: 208830\n- text: And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  start_ms: 208830\n  end_ms: 212550\n- text: Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  start_ms: 212550\n  end_ms: 216440\n- text: What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  start_ms: 216440\n  end_ms: 218580\n- text: You apostrophe bitch?\n  start_ms: 218580\n  end_ms: 220130\n- text: Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  start_ms: 220130\n  end_ms: 223530\n- text: Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  start_ms: 223530\n  end_ms: 226340\n- text: With tha Carter IV\n  start_ms: 226340\n  end_ms: 228400\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 228400\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  when I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":25143710,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"DJ Rob E Rob & Lil' Wayne - Be","duration":20.198,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\nTestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\nGot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nWhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: DJ Rob E Rob & Lil' Wayne - Be\n  duration_ms: 20198\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  Testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":33778284,"name":"OUTRO","trackName":"OUTRO","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"The City Is Mine (Lil Wayne Instrumentals)","duration":22.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\ntestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\ngot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nwhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.86] Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n[00:18.54] Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n[00:20.50] Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n[00:22.50] You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n[00:24.03] Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n[00:25.90] Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n[00:27.56] Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n[00:29.49] Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n[00:30.78] No tricks, man, those is for kids\n[00:32.99] Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n[00:35.05] Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n[00:36.90] You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n[00:38.52] I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n[00:40.29] Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n[00:42.02] We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n[00:44.13] And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n[00:46.20] Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n[00:52.53] Reppin' QB till the death of him\n[00:54.85] That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n[00:58.21] Track record, goes back to the Essence\n[01:01.02] Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n[01:02.73] I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n[01:04.46] I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n[01:06.33] Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n[01:08.06] But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n[01:10.41] Typecast in the same role\n[01:12.40] Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n[01:14.95] Cocaine white Range Rov'\n[01:16.89] Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n[01:18.70] I did real good for a project nigga\n[01:20.76] Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n[01:22.14] Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n[01:24.04] Guns in compartments hidden\n[01:25.54] I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n[01:27.84] Blessings, bowed down, respected\n[01:29.98] Chowed down, now my food's digested\n[01:31.74] Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n[01:33.62] That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n[01:35.38] Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n[01:37.62] Testin', testin'\n[01:38.43] Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n[01:40.85] Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n[01:42.46] I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n[01:44.18] Been in this shit since '91\n[01:46.49] Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n[01:47.98] Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n[01:49.52] Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n[01:51.42] Studied cowards and made power moves\n[01:53.68] Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n[01:55.48] You can say that's how I move\n[01:57.31] A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n[02:00.00] There go my nigga Wayne\n[02:01.16] Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n[02:02.83] \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n[02:04.76] I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n[02:07.72] Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n[02:10.35] I'm a shotta,\n[02:12.25] When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n[02:14.68] Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n[02:18.08] Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n[02:19.96] It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n[02:25.88] I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n[02:29.37] They ain't gon' fight\n[02:30.43] They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n[02:32.92] Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n[02:36.65] Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n[02:40.64] Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n[02:44.38] Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n[02:47.75] They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n[02:52.40] Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n[02:55.82] Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n[02:59.28] And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n[03:02.74] They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n[03:06.59] That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n[03:09.46] Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n[03:11.14] See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n[03:12.67] Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n[03:13.88] And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n[03:16.16] And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n[03:18.17] I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n[03:19.77] And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n[03:21.16] Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n[03:22.36] Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n[03:24.12] When I'm done (DAMN!)\n[03:25.80] You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n[03:28.83] And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n[03:32.55] Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n[03:36.44] What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n[03:38.58] You apostrophe bitch?\n[03:40.13] Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n[03:43.53] Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n[03:46.34] With tha Carter IV\n[03:48.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: OUTRO\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: The City Is Mine (Lil Wayne Instrumentals)\n  duration_ms: 22000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  start_ms: 13860\n  end_ms: 18540\n- text: Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  start_ms: 18540\n  end_ms: 20500\n- text: Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  start_ms: 20500\n  end_ms: 22500\n- text: You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  start_ms: 22500\n  end_ms: 24030\n- text: Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  start_ms: 24030\n  end_ms: 25900\n- text: Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  start_ms: 25900\n  end_ms: 27560\n- text: Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  start_ms: 27560\n  end_ms: 29490\n- text: Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  start_ms: 29490\n  end_ms: 30780\n- text: No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  start_ms: 30780\n  end_ms: 32990\n- text: Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  start_ms: 32990\n  end_ms: 35050\n- text: Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  start_ms: 35050\n  end_ms: 36900\n- text: You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  start_ms: 36900\n  end_ms: 38520\n- text: I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  start_ms: 38520\n  end_ms: 40290\n- text: Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  start_ms: 40290\n  end_ms: 42020\n- text: We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  start_ms: 42020\n  end_ms: 44130\n- text: And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  start_ms: 44130\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 52530\n- text: Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  start_ms: 52530\n  end_ms: 54850\n- text: That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  start_ms: 54850\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61020\n- text: Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  start_ms: 61020\n  end_ms: 62730\n- text: I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  start_ms: 62730\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 66330\n- text: Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  start_ms: 66330\n  end_ms: 68060\n- text: But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  start_ms: 68060\n  end_ms: 70410\n- text: Typecast in the same role\n  start_ms: 70410\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 74950\n- text: Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  start_ms: 74950\n  end_ms: 76890\n- text: Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  start_ms: 76890\n  end_ms: 78700\n- text: I did real good for a project nigga\n  start_ms: 78700\n  end_ms: 80760\n- text: Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  start_ms: 80760\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 84040\n- text: Guns in compartments hidden\n  start_ms: 84040\n  end_ms: 85540\n- text: I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  start_ms: 85540\n  end_ms: 87840\n- text: Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  start_ms: 87840\n  end_ms: 89980\n- text: Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  start_ms: 89980\n  end_ms: 91740\n- text: Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  start_ms: 91740\n  end_ms: 93620\n- text: That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  start_ms: 93620\n  end_ms: 95380\n- text: Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  start_ms: 95380\n  end_ms: 97620\n- text: Testin', testin'\n  start_ms: 97620\n  end_ms: 98430\n- text: Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  start_ms: 98430\n  end_ms: 100850\n- text: Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  start_ms: 100850\n  end_ms: 102460\n- text: I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  start_ms: 102460\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: Been in this shit since '91\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106490\n- text: Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  start_ms: 106490\n  end_ms: 107980\n- text: Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  start_ms: 107980\n  end_ms: 109520\n- text: Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  start_ms: 109520\n  end_ms: 111420\n- text: Studied cowards and made power moves\n  start_ms: 111420\n  end_ms: 113680\n- text: Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  start_ms: 113680\n  end_ms: 115480\n- text: You can say that's how I move\n  start_ms: 115480\n  end_ms: 117310\n- text: A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  start_ms: 117310\n  end_ms: 120000\n- text: There go my nigga Wayne\n  start_ms: 120000\n  end_ms: 121160\n- text: Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  start_ms: 121160\n  end_ms: 122830\n- text: '\"We ain''t got time to respond to niggas\"'\n  start_ms: 122830\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: I'm a shotta,\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 132250\n- text: When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  start_ms: 132250\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 138080\n- text: Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  start_ms: 138080\n  end_ms: 139960\n- text: It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  start_ms: 139960\n  end_ms: 145880\n- text: I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  start_ms: 145880\n  end_ms: 149370\n- text: They ain't gon' fight\n  start_ms: 149370\n  end_ms: 150430\n- text: They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  start_ms: 150430\n  end_ms: 152920\n- text: Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  start_ms: 152920\n  end_ms: 156650\n- text: Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  start_ms: 156650\n  end_ms: 160640\n- text: Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  start_ms: 160640\n  end_ms: 164380\n- text: Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  start_ms: 164380\n  end_ms: 167750\n- text: They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  start_ms: 167750\n  end_ms: 172400\n- text: Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  start_ms: 172400\n  end_ms: 175820\n- text: Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  start_ms: 175820\n  end_ms: 179280\n- text: And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  start_ms: 179280\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 186590\n- text: That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  start_ms: 186590\n  end_ms: 189460\n- text: Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  start_ms: 189460\n  end_ms: 191140\n- text: See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  start_ms: 191140\n  end_ms: 192670\n- text: Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  start_ms: 192670\n  end_ms: 193880\n- text: And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  start_ms: 193880\n  end_ms: 196160\n- text: And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n  start_ms: 196160\n  end_ms: 198170\n- text: I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  start_ms: 198170\n  end_ms: 199770\n- text: And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  start_ms: 199770\n  end_ms: 201160\n- text: Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  start_ms: 201160\n  end_ms: 202360\n- text: Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  start_ms: 202360\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 205800\n- text: You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  start_ms: 205800\n  end_ms: 208830\n- text: And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  start_ms: 208830\n  end_ms: 212550\n- text: Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  start_ms: 212550\n  end_ms: 216440\n- text: What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  start_ms: 216440\n  end_ms: 218580\n- text: You apostrophe bitch?\n  start_ms: 218580\n  end_ms: 220130\n- text: Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  start_ms: 220130\n  end_ms: 223530\n- text: Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  start_ms: 223530\n  end_ms: 226340\n- text: With tha Carter IV\n  start_ms: 226340\n  end_ms: 228400\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 228400\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  when I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":6776447,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"The Dedication","duration":41.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\nTestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\nGot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nWhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: The Dedication\n  duration_ms: 41000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  Testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":2194777,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"Dedication","duration":41.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\nTestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\nGot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nWhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: Dedication\n  duration_ms: 41000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  Testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":9236704,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"Tha Carter IV","duration":233.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\ntestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\ngot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nwhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.86] Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n[00:18.54] Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n[00:20.50] Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n[00:22.50] You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n[00:24.03] Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n[00:25.90] Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n[00:27.56] Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n[00:29.49] Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n[00:30.78] No tricks, man, those is for kids\n[00:32.99] Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n[00:35.05] Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n[00:36.90] You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n[00:38.52] I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n[00:40.29] Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n[00:42.02] We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n[00:44.13] And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n[00:46.20] Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n[00:52.53] Reppin' QB till the death of him\n[00:54.85] That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n[00:58.21] Track record, goes back to the Essence\n[01:01.02] Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n[01:02.73] I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n[01:04.46] I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n[01:06.33] Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n[01:08.06] But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n[01:10.41] Typecast in the same role\n[01:12.40] Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n[01:14.95] Cocaine white Range Rov'\n[01:16.89] Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n[01:18.70] I did real good for a project nigga\n[01:20.76] Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n[01:22.14] Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n[01:24.04] Guns in compartments hidden\n[01:25.54] I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n[01:27.84] Blessings, bowed down, respected\n[01:29.98] Chowed down, now my food's digested\n[01:31.74] Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n[01:33.62] That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n[01:35.38] Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n[01:37.62] Testin', testin'\n[01:38.43] Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n[01:40.85] Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n[01:42.46] I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n[01:44.18] Been in this shit since '91\n[01:46.49] Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n[01:47.98] Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n[01:49.52] Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n[01:51.42] Studied cowards and made power moves\n[01:53.68] Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n[01:55.48] You can say that's how I move\n[01:57.31] A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n[02:00.00] There go my nigga Wayne\n[02:01.16] Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n[02:02.83] \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n[02:04.76] I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n[02:07.72] Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n[02:10.35] I'm a shotta,\n[02:12.25] When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n[02:14.68] Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n[02:18.08] Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n[02:19.96] It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n[02:25.88] I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n[02:29.37] They ain't gon' fight\n[02:30.43] They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n[02:32.92] Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n[02:36.65] Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n[02:40.64] Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n[02:44.38] Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n[02:47.75] They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n[02:52.40] Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n[02:55.82] Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n[02:59.28] And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n[03:02.74] They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n[03:06.59] That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n[03:09.46] Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n[03:11.14] See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n[03:12.67] Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n[03:13.88] And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n[03:16.16] And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n[03:18.17] I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n[03:19.77] And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n[03:21.16] Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n[03:22.36] Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n[03:24.12] When I'm done (DAMN!)\n[03:25.80] You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n[03:28.83] And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n[03:32.55] Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n[03:36.44] What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n[03:38.58] You apostrophe bitch?\n[03:40.13] Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n[03:43.53] Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n[03:46.34] With tha Carter IV\n[03:48.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: Tha Carter IV\n  duration_ms: 233000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  start_ms: 13860\n  end_ms: 18540\n- text: Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  start_ms: 18540\n  end_ms: 20500\n- text: Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  start_ms: 20500\n  end_ms: 22500\n- text: You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  start_ms: 22500\n  end_ms: 24030\n- text: Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  start_ms: 24030\n  end_ms: 25900\n- text: Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  start_ms: 25900\n  end_ms: 27560\n- text: Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  start_ms: 27560\n  end_ms: 29490\n- text: Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  start_ms: 29490\n  end_ms: 30780\n- text: No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  start_ms: 30780\n  end_ms: 32990\n- text: Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  start_ms: 32990\n  end_ms: 35050\n- text: Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  start_ms: 35050\n  end_ms: 36900\n- text: You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  start_ms: 36900\n  end_ms: 38520\n- text: I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  start_ms: 38520\n  end_ms: 40290\n- text: Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  start_ms: 40290\n  end_ms: 42020\n- text: We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  start_ms: 42020\n  end_ms: 44130\n- text: And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  start_ms: 44130\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 52530\n- text: Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  start_ms: 52530\n  end_ms: 54850\n- text: That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  start_ms: 54850\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61020\n- text: Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  start_ms: 61020\n  end_ms: 62730\n- text: I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  start_ms: 62730\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 66330\n- text: Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  start_ms: 66330\n  end_ms: 68060\n- text: But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  start_ms: 68060\n  end_ms: 70410\n- text: Typecast in the same role\n  start_ms: 70410\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 74950\n- text: Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  start_ms: 74950\n  end_ms: 76890\n- text: Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  start_ms: 76890\n  end_ms: 78700\n- text: I did real good for a project nigga\n  start_ms: 78700\n  end_ms: 80760\n- text: Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  start_ms: 80760\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 84040\n- text: Guns in compartments hidden\n  start_ms: 84040\n  end_ms: 85540\n- text: I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  start_ms: 85540\n  end_ms: 87840\n- text: Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  start_ms: 87840\n  end_ms: 89980\n- text: Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  start_ms: 89980\n  end_ms: 91740\n- text: Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  start_ms: 91740\n  end_ms: 93620\n- text: That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  start_ms: 93620\n  end_ms: 95380\n- text: Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  start_ms: 95380\n  end_ms: 97620\n- text: Testin', testin'\n  start_ms: 97620\n  end_ms: 98430\n- text: Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  start_ms: 98430\n  end_ms: 100850\n- text: Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  start_ms: 100850\n  end_ms: 102460\n- text: I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  start_ms: 102460\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: Been in this shit since '91\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106490\n- text: Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  start_ms: 106490\n  end_ms: 107980\n- text: Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  start_ms: 107980\n  end_ms: 109520\n- text: Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  start_ms: 109520\n  end_ms: 111420\n- text: Studied cowards and made power moves\n  start_ms: 111420\n  end_ms: 113680\n- text: Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  start_ms: 113680\n  end_ms: 115480\n- text: You can say that's how I move\n  start_ms: 115480\n  end_ms: 117310\n- text: A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  start_ms: 117310\n  end_ms: 120000\n- text: There go my nigga Wayne\n  start_ms: 120000\n  end_ms: 121160\n- text: Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  start_ms: 121160\n  end_ms: 122830\n- text: '\"We ain''t got time to respond to niggas\"'\n  start_ms: 122830\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: I'm a shotta,\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 132250\n- text: When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  start_ms: 132250\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 138080\n- text: Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  start_ms: 138080\n  end_ms: 139960\n- text: It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  start_ms: 139960\n  end_ms: 145880\n- text: I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  start_ms: 145880\n  end_ms: 149370\n- text: They ain't gon' fight\n  start_ms: 149370\n  end_ms: 150430\n- text: They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  start_ms: 150430\n  end_ms: 152920\n- text: Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  start_ms: 152920\n  end_ms: 156650\n- text: Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  start_ms: 156650\n  end_ms: 160640\n- text: Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  start_ms: 160640\n  end_ms: 164380\n- text: Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  start_ms: 164380\n  end_ms: 167750\n- text: They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  start_ms: 167750\n  end_ms: 172400\n- text: Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  start_ms: 172400\n  end_ms: 175820\n- text: Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  start_ms: 175820\n  end_ms: 179280\n- text: And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  start_ms: 179280\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 186590\n- text: That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  start_ms: 186590\n  end_ms: 189460\n- text: Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  start_ms: 189460\n  end_ms: 191140\n- text: See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  start_ms: 191140\n  end_ms: 192670\n- text: Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  start_ms: 192670\n  end_ms: 193880\n- text: And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  start_ms: 193880\n  end_ms: 196160\n- text: And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n  start_ms: 196160\n  end_ms: 198170\n- text: I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  start_ms: 198170\n  end_ms: 199770\n- text: And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  start_ms: 199770\n  end_ms: 201160\n- text: Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  start_ms: 201160\n  end_ms: 202360\n- text: Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  start_ms: 202360\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 205800\n- text: You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  start_ms: 205800\n  end_ms: 208830\n- text: And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  start_ms: 208830\n  end_ms: 212550\n- text: Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  start_ms: 212550\n  end_ms: 216440\n- text: What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  start_ms: 216440\n  end_ms: 218580\n- text: You apostrophe bitch?\n  start_ms: 218580\n  end_ms: 220130\n- text: Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  start_ms: 220130\n  end_ms: 223530\n- text: Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  start_ms: 223530\n  end_ms: 226340\n- text: With tha Carter IV\n  start_ms: 226340\n  end_ms: 228400\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 228400\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  when I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":30822470,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil' Wayne","albumName":"New Orleans Nightmare Pt. 1","duration":12.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\ntestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\ngot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nwhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.86] Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n[00:18.54] Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n[00:20.50] Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n[00:22.50] You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n[00:24.03] Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n[00:25.90] Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n[00:27.56] Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n[00:29.49] Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n[00:30.78] No tricks, man, those is for kids\n[00:32.99] Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n[00:35.05] Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n[00:36.90] You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n[00:38.52] I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n[00:40.29] Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n[00:42.02] We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n[00:44.13] And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n[00:46.20] Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n[00:52.53] Reppin' QB till the death of him\n[00:54.85] That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n[00:58.21] Track record, goes back to the Essence\n[01:01.02] Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n[01:02.73] I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n[01:04.46] I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n[01:06.33] Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n[01:08.06] But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n[01:10.41] Typecast in the same role\n[01:12.40] Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n[01:14.95] Cocaine white Range Rov'\n[01:16.89] Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n[01:18.70] I did real good for a project nigga\n[01:20.76] Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n[01:22.14] Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n[01:24.04] Guns in compartments hidden\n[01:25.54] I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n[01:27.84] Blessings, bowed down, respected\n[01:29.98] Chowed down, now my food's digested\n[01:31.74] Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n[01:33.62] That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n[01:35.38] Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n[01:37.62] Testin', testin'\n[01:38.43] Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n[01:40.85] Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n[01:42.46] I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n[01:44.18] Been in this shit since '91\n[01:46.49] Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n[01:47.98] Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n[01:49.52] Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n[01:51.42] Studied cowards and made power moves\n[01:53.68] Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n[01:55.48] You can say that's how I move\n[01:57.31] A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n[02:00.00] There go my nigga Wayne\n[02:01.16] Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n[02:02.83] \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n[02:04.76] I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n[02:07.72] Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n[02:10.35] I'm a shotta,\n[02:12.25] When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n[02:14.68] Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n[02:18.08] Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n[02:19.96] It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n[02:25.88] I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n[02:29.37] They ain't gon' fight\n[02:30.43] They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n[02:32.92] Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n[02:36.65] Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n[02:40.64] Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n[02:44.38] Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n[02:47.75] They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n[02:52.40] Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n[02:55.82] Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n[02:59.28] And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n[03:02.74] They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n[03:06.59] That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n[03:09.46] Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n[03:11.14] See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n[03:12.67] Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n[03:13.88] And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n[03:16.16] And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n[03:18.17] I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n[03:19.77] And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n[03:21.16] Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n[03:22.36] Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n[03:24.12] When I'm done (DAMN!)\n[03:25.80] You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n[03:28.83] And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n[03:32.55] Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n[03:36.44] What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n[03:38.58] You apostrophe bitch?\n[03:40.13] Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n[03:43.53] Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n[03:46.34] With tha Carter IV\n[03:48.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil' Wayne\n  album: New Orleans Nightmare Pt. 1\n  duration_ms: 12000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  start_ms: 13860\n  end_ms: 18540\n- text: Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  start_ms: 18540\n  end_ms: 20500\n- text: Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  start_ms: 20500\n  end_ms: 22500\n- text: You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  start_ms: 22500\n  end_ms: 24030\n- text: Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  start_ms: 24030\n  end_ms: 25900\n- text: Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  start_ms: 25900\n  end_ms: 27560\n- text: Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  start_ms: 27560\n  end_ms: 29490\n- text: Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  start_ms: 29490\n  end_ms: 30780\n- text: No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  start_ms: 30780\n  end_ms: 32990\n- text: Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  start_ms: 32990\n  end_ms: 35050\n- text: Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  start_ms: 35050\n  end_ms: 36900\n- text: You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  start_ms: 36900\n  end_ms: 38520\n- text: I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  start_ms: 38520\n  end_ms: 40290\n- text: Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  start_ms: 40290\n  end_ms: 42020\n- text: We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  start_ms: 42020\n  end_ms: 44130\n- text: And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  start_ms: 44130\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 52530\n- text: Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  start_ms: 52530\n  end_ms: 54850\n- text: That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  start_ms: 54850\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61020\n- text: Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  start_ms: 61020\n  end_ms: 62730\n- text: I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  start_ms: 62730\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 66330\n- text: Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  start_ms: 66330\n  end_ms: 68060\n- text: But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  start_ms: 68060\n  end_ms: 70410\n- text: Typecast in the same role\n  start_ms: 70410\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 74950\n- text: Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  start_ms: 74950\n  end_ms: 76890\n- text: Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  start_ms: 76890\n  end_ms: 78700\n- text: I did real good for a project nigga\n  start_ms: 78700\n  end_ms: 80760\n- text: Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  start_ms: 80760\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 84040\n- text: Guns in compartments hidden\n  start_ms: 84040\n  end_ms: 85540\n- text: I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  start_ms: 85540\n  end_ms: 87840\n- text: Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  start_ms: 87840\n  end_ms: 89980\n- text: Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  start_ms: 89980\n  end_ms: 91740\n- text: Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  start_ms: 91740\n  end_ms: 93620\n- text: That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  start_ms: 93620\n  end_ms: 95380\n- text: Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  start_ms: 95380\n  end_ms: 97620\n- text: Testin', testin'\n  start_ms: 97620\n  end_ms: 98430\n- text: Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  start_ms: 98430\n  end_ms: 100850\n- text: Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  start_ms: 100850\n  end_ms: 102460\n- text: I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  start_ms: 102460\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: Been in this shit since '91\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106490\n- text: Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  start_ms: 106490\n  end_ms: 107980\n- text: Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  start_ms: 107980\n  end_ms: 109520\n- text: Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  start_ms: 109520\n  end_ms: 111420\n- text: Studied cowards and made power moves\n  start_ms: 111420\n  end_ms: 113680\n- text: Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  start_ms: 113680\n  end_ms: 115480\n- text: You can say that's how I move\n  start_ms: 115480\n  end_ms: 117310\n- text: A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  start_ms: 117310\n  end_ms: 120000\n- text: There go my nigga Wayne\n  start_ms: 120000\n  end_ms: 121160\n- text: Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  start_ms: 121160\n  end_ms: 122830\n- text: '\"We ain''t got time to respond to niggas\"'\n  start_ms: 122830\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: I'm a shotta,\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 132250\n- text: When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  start_ms: 132250\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 138080\n- text: Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  start_ms: 138080\n  end_ms: 139960\n- text: It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  start_ms: 139960\n  end_ms: 145880\n- text: I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  start_ms: 145880\n  end_ms: 149370\n- text: They ain't gon' fight\n  start_ms: 149370\n  end_ms: 150430\n- text: They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  start_ms: 150430\n  end_ms: 152920\n- text: Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  start_ms: 152920\n  end_ms: 156650\n- text: Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  start_ms: 156650\n  end_ms: 160640\n- text: Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  start_ms: 160640\n  end_ms: 164380\n- text: Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  start_ms: 164380\n  end_ms: 167750\n- text: They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  start_ms: 167750\n  end_ms: 172400\n- text: Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  start_ms: 172400\n  end_ms: 175820\n- text: Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  start_ms: 175820\n  end_ms: 179280\n- text: And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  start_ms: 179280\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 186590\n- text: That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  start_ms: 186590\n  end_ms: 189460\n- text: Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  start_ms: 189460\n  end_ms: 191140\n- text: See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  start_ms: 191140\n  end_ms: 192670\n- text: Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  start_ms: 192670\n  end_ms: 193880\n- text: And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  start_ms: 193880\n  end_ms: 196160\n- text: And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n  start_ms: 196160\n  end_ms: 198170\n- text: I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  start_ms: 198170\n  end_ms: 199770\n- text: And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  start_ms: 199770\n  end_ms: 201160\n- text: Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  start_ms: 201160\n  end_ms: 202360\n- text: Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  start_ms: 202360\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 205800\n- text: You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  start_ms: 205800\n  end_ms: 208830\n- text: And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  start_ms: 208830\n  end_ms: 212550\n- text: Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  start_ms: 212550\n  end_ms: 216440\n- text: What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  start_ms: 216440\n  end_ms: 218580\n- text: You apostrophe bitch?\n  start_ms: 218580\n  end_ms: 220130\n- text: Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  start_ms: 220130\n  end_ms: 223530\n- text: Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  start_ms: 223530\n  end_ms: 226340\n- text: With tha Carter IV\n  start_ms: 226340\n  end_ms: 228400\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 228400\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  when I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":32127064,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"Mardi Gras","duration":98.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\ntestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\ngot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nwhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.86] Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n[00:18.54] Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n[00:20.50] Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n[00:22.50] You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n[00:24.03] Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n[00:25.90] Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n[00:27.56] Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n[00:29.49] Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n[00:30.78] No tricks, man, those is for kids\n[00:32.99] Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n[00:35.05] Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n[00:36.90] You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n[00:38.52] I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n[00:40.29] Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n[00:42.02] We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n[00:44.13] And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n[00:46.20] Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n[00:52.53] Reppin' QB till the death of him\n[00:54.85] That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n[00:58.21] Track record, goes back to the Essence\n[01:01.02] Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n[01:02.73] I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n[01:04.46] I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n[01:06.33] Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n[01:08.06] But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n[01:10.41] Typecast in the same role\n[01:12.40] Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n[01:14.95] Cocaine white Range Rov'\n[01:16.89] Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n[01:18.70] I did real good for a project nigga\n[01:20.76] Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n[01:22.14] Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n[01:24.04] Guns in compartments hidden\n[01:25.54] I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n[01:27.84] Blessings, bowed down, respected\n[01:29.98] Chowed down, now my food's digested\n[01:31.74] Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n[01:33.62] That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n[01:35.38] Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n[01:37.62] Testin', testin'\n[01:38.43] Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n[01:40.85] Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n[01:42.46] I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n[01:44.18] Been in this shit since '91\n[01:46.49] Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n[01:47.98] Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n[01:49.52] Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n[01:51.42] Studied cowards and made power moves\n[01:53.68] Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n[01:55.48] You can say that's how I move\n[01:57.31] A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n[02:00.00] There go my nigga Wayne\n[02:01.16] Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n[02:02.83] \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n[02:04.76] I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n[02:07.72] Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n[02:10.35] I'm a shotta,\n[02:12.25] When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n[02:14.68] Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n[02:18.08] Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n[02:19.96] It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n[02:25.88] I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n[02:29.37] They ain't gon' fight\n[02:30.43] They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n[02:32.92] Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n[02:36.65] Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n[02:40.64] Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n[02:44.38] Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n[02:47.75] They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n[02:52.40] Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n[02:55.82] Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n[02:59.28] And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n[03:02.74] They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n[03:06.59] That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n[03:09.46] Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n[03:11.14] See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n[03:12.67] Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n[03:13.88] And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n[03:16.16] And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n[03:18.17] I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n[03:19.77] And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n[03:21.16] Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n[03:22.36] Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n[03:24.12] When I'm done (DAMN!)\n[03:25.80] You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n[03:28.83] And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n[03:32.55] Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n[03:36.44] What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n[03:38.58] You apostrophe bitch?\n[03:40.13] Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n[03:43.53] Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n[03:46.34] With tha Carter IV\n[03:48.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: Mardi Gras\n  duration_ms: 98000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  start_ms: 13860\n  end_ms: 18540\n- text: Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  start_ms: 18540\n  end_ms: 20500\n- text: Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  start_ms: 20500\n  end_ms: 22500\n- text: You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  start_ms: 22500\n  end_ms: 24030\n- text: Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  start_ms: 24030\n  end_ms: 25900\n- text: Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  start_ms: 25900\n  end_ms: 27560\n- text: Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  start_ms: 27560\n  end_ms: 29490\n- text: Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  start_ms: 29490\n  end_ms: 30780\n- text: No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  start_ms: 30780\n  end_ms: 32990\n- text: Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  start_ms: 32990\n  end_ms: 35050\n- text: Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  start_ms: 35050\n  end_ms: 36900\n- text: You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  start_ms: 36900\n  end_ms: 38520\n- text: I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  start_ms: 38520\n  end_ms: 40290\n- text: Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  start_ms: 40290\n  end_ms: 42020\n- text: We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  start_ms: 42020\n  end_ms: 44130\n- text: And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  start_ms: 44130\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 52530\n- text: Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  start_ms: 52530\n  end_ms: 54850\n- text: That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  start_ms: 54850\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61020\n- text: Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  start_ms: 61020\n  end_ms: 62730\n- text: I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  start_ms: 62730\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 66330\n- text: Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  start_ms: 66330\n  end_ms: 68060\n- text: But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  start_ms: 68060\n  end_ms: 70410\n- text: Typecast in the same role\n  start_ms: 70410\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 74950\n- text: Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  start_ms: 74950\n  end_ms: 76890\n- text: Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  start_ms: 76890\n  end_ms: 78700\n- text: I did real good for a project nigga\n  start_ms: 78700\n  end_ms: 80760\n- text: Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  start_ms: 80760\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 84040\n- text: Guns in compartments hidden\n  start_ms: 84040\n  end_ms: 85540\n- text: I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  start_ms: 85540\n  end_ms: 87840\n- text: Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  start_ms: 87840\n  end_ms: 89980\n- text: Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  start_ms: 89980\n  end_ms: 91740\n- text: Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  start_ms: 91740\n  end_ms: 93620\n- text: That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  start_ms: 93620\n  end_ms: 95380\n- text: Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  start_ms: 95380\n  end_ms: 97620\n- text: Testin', testin'\n  start_ms: 97620\n  end_ms: 98430\n- text: Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  start_ms: 98430\n  end_ms: 100850\n- text: Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  start_ms: 100850\n  end_ms: 102460\n- text: I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  start_ms: 102460\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: Been in this shit since '91\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106490\n- text: Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  start_ms: 106490\n  end_ms: 107980\n- text: Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  start_ms: 107980\n  end_ms: 109520\n- text: Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  start_ms: 109520\n  end_ms: 111420\n- text: Studied cowards and made power moves\n  start_ms: 111420\n  end_ms: 113680\n- text: Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  start_ms: 113680\n  end_ms: 115480\n- text: You can say that's how I move\n  start_ms: 115480\n  end_ms: 117310\n- text: A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  start_ms: 117310\n  end_ms: 120000\n- text: There go my nigga Wayne\n  start_ms: 120000\n  end_ms: 121160\n- text: Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  start_ms: 121160\n  end_ms: 122830\n- text: '\"We ain''t got time to respond to niggas\"'\n  start_ms: 122830\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: I'm a shotta,\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 132250\n- text: When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  start_ms: 132250\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 138080\n- text: Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  start_ms: 138080\n  end_ms: 139960\n- text: It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  start_ms: 139960\n  end_ms: 145880\n- text: I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  start_ms: 145880\n  end_ms: 149370\n- text: They ain't gon' fight\n  start_ms: 149370\n  end_ms: 150430\n- text: They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  start_ms: 150430\n  end_ms: 152920\n- text: Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  start_ms: 152920\n  end_ms: 156650\n- text: Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  start_ms: 156650\n  end_ms: 160640\n- text: Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  start_ms: 160640\n  end_ms: 164380\n- text: Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  start_ms: 164380\n  end_ms: 167750\n- text: They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  start_ms: 167750\n  end_ms: 172400\n- text: Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  start_ms: 172400\n  end_ms: 175820\n- text: Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  start_ms: 175820\n  end_ms: 179280\n- text: And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  start_ms: 179280\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 186590\n- text: That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  start_ms: 186590\n  end_ms: 189460\n- text: Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  start_ms: 189460\n  end_ms: 191140\n- text: See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  start_ms: 191140\n  end_ms: 192670\n- text: Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  start_ms: 192670\n  end_ms: 193880\n- text: And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  start_ms: 193880\n  end_ms: 196160\n- text: And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n  start_ms: 196160\n  end_ms: 198170\n- text: I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  start_ms: 198170\n  end_ms: 199770\n- text: And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  start_ms: 199770\n  end_ms: 201160\n- text: Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  start_ms: 201160\n  end_ms: 202360\n- text: Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  start_ms: 202360\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 205800\n- text: You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  start_ms: 205800\n  end_ms: 208830\n- text: And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  start_ms: 208830\n  end_ms: 212550\n- text: Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  start_ms: 212550\n  end_ms: 216440\n- text: What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  start_ms: 216440\n  end_ms: 218580\n- text: You apostrophe bitch?\n  start_ms: 218580\n  end_ms: 220130\n- text: Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  start_ms: 220130\n  end_ms: 223530\n- text: Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  start_ms: 223530\n  end_ms: 226340\n- text: With tha Carter IV\n  start_ms: 226340\n  end_ms: 228400\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 228400\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  when I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":31028898,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil' Wayne","albumName":"The No Ceilings Leaks","duration":98.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\ntestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\ngot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nwhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.86] Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n[00:18.54] Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n[00:20.50] Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n[00:22.50] You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n[00:24.03] Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n[00:25.90] Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n[00:27.56] Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n[00:29.49] Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n[00:30.78] No tricks, man, those is for kids\n[00:32.99] Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n[00:35.05] Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n[00:36.90] You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n[00:38.52] I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n[00:40.29] Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n[00:42.02] We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n[00:44.13] And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n[00:46.20] Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n[00:52.53] Reppin' QB till the death of him\n[00:54.85] That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n[00:58.21] Track record, goes back to the Essence\n[01:01.02] Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n[01:02.73] I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n[01:04.46] I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n[01:06.33] Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n[01:08.06] But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n[01:10.41] Typecast in the same role\n[01:12.40] Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n[01:14.95] Cocaine white Range Rov'\n[01:16.89] Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n[01:18.70] I did real good for a project nigga\n[01:20.76] Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n[01:22.14] Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n[01:24.04] Guns in compartments hidden\n[01:25.54] I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n[01:27.84] Blessings, bowed down, respected\n[01:29.98] Chowed down, now my food's digested\n[01:31.74] Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n[01:33.62] That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n[01:35.38] Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n[01:37.62] Testin', testin'\n[01:38.43] Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n[01:40.85] Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n[01:42.46] I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n[01:44.18] Been in this shit since '91\n[01:46.49] Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n[01:47.98] Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n[01:49.52] Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n[01:51.42] Studied cowards and made power moves\n[01:53.68] Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n[01:55.48] You can say that's how I move\n[01:57.31] A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n[02:00.00] There go my nigga Wayne\n[02:01.16] Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n[02:02.83] \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n[02:04.76] I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n[02:07.72] Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n[02:10.35] I'm a shotta,\n[02:12.25] When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n[02:14.68] Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n[02:18.08] Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n[02:19.96] It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n[02:25.88] I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n[02:29.37] They ain't gon' fight\n[02:30.43] They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n[02:32.92] Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n[02:36.65] Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n[02:40.64] Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n[02:44.38] Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n[02:47.75] They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n[02:52.40] Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n[02:55.82] Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n[02:59.28] And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n[03:02.74] They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n[03:06.59] That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n[03:09.46] Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n[03:11.14] See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n[03:12.67] Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n[03:13.88] And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n[03:16.16] And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n[03:18.17] I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n[03:19.77] And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n[03:21.16] Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n[03:22.36] Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n[03:24.12] When I'm done (DAMN!)\n[03:25.80] You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n[03:28.83] And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n[03:32.55] Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n[03:36.44] What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n[03:38.58] You apostrophe bitch?\n[03:40.13] Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n[03:43.53] Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n[03:46.34] With tha Carter IV\n[03:48.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil' Wayne\n  album: The No Ceilings Leaks\n  duration_ms: 98000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  start_ms: 13860\n  end_ms: 18540\n- text: Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  start_ms: 18540\n  end_ms: 20500\n- text: Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  start_ms: 20500\n  end_ms: 22500\n- text: You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  start_ms: 22500\n  end_ms: 24030\n- text: Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  start_ms: 24030\n  end_ms: 25900\n- text: Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  start_ms: 25900\n  end_ms: 27560\n- text: Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  start_ms: 27560\n  end_ms: 29490\n- text: Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  start_ms: 29490\n  end_ms: 30780\n- text: No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  start_ms: 30780\n  end_ms: 32990\n- text: Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  start_ms: 32990\n  end_ms: 35050\n- text: Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  start_ms: 35050\n  end_ms: 36900\n- text: You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  start_ms: 36900\n  end_ms: 38520\n- text: I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  start_ms: 38520\n  end_ms: 40290\n- text: Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  start_ms: 40290\n  end_ms: 42020\n- text: We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  start_ms: 42020\n  end_ms: 44130\n- text: And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  start_ms: 44130\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 52530\n- text: Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  start_ms: 52530\n  end_ms: 54850\n- text: That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  start_ms: 54850\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61020\n- text: Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  start_ms: 61020\n  end_ms: 62730\n- text: I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  start_ms: 62730\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 66330\n- text: Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  start_ms: 66330\n  end_ms: 68060\n- text: But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  start_ms: 68060\n  end_ms: 70410\n- text: Typecast in the same role\n  start_ms: 70410\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 74950\n- text: Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  start_ms: 74950\n  end_ms: 76890\n- text: Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  start_ms: 76890\n  end_ms: 78700\n- text: I did real good for a project nigga\n  start_ms: 78700\n  end_ms: 80760\n- text: Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  start_ms: 80760\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 84040\n- text: Guns in compartments hidden\n  start_ms: 84040\n  end_ms: 85540\n- text: I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  start_ms: 85540\n  end_ms: 87840\n- text: Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  start_ms: 87840\n  end_ms: 89980\n- text: Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  start_ms: 89980\n  end_ms: 91740\n- text: Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  start_ms: 91740\n  end_ms: 93620\n- text: That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  start_ms: 93620\n  end_ms: 95380\n- text: Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  start_ms: 95380\n  end_ms: 97620\n- text: Testin', testin'\n  start_ms: 97620\n  end_ms: 98430\n- text: Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  start_ms: 98430\n  end_ms: 100850\n- text: Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  start_ms: 100850\n  end_ms: 102460\n- text: I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  start_ms: 102460\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: Been in this shit since '91\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106490\n- text: Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  start_ms: 106490\n  end_ms: 107980\n- text: Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  start_ms: 107980\n  end_ms: 109520\n- text: Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  start_ms: 109520\n  end_ms: 111420\n- text: Studied cowards and made power moves\n  start_ms: 111420\n  end_ms: 113680\n- text: Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  start_ms: 113680\n  end_ms: 115480\n- text: You can say that's how I move\n  start_ms: 115480\n  end_ms: 117310\n- text: A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  start_ms: 117310\n  end_ms: 120000\n- text: There go my nigga Wayne\n  start_ms: 120000\n  end_ms: 121160\n- text: Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  start_ms: 121160\n  end_ms: 122830\n- text: '\"We ain''t got time to respond to niggas\"'\n  start_ms: 122830\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: I'm a shotta,\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 132250\n- text: When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  start_ms: 132250\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 138080\n- text: Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  start_ms: 138080\n  end_ms: 139960\n- text: It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  start_ms: 139960\n  end_ms: 145880\n- text: I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  start_ms: 145880\n  end_ms: 149370\n- text: They ain't gon' fight\n  start_ms: 149370\n  end_ms: 150430\n- text: They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  start_ms: 150430\n  end_ms: 152920\n- text: Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  start_ms: 152920\n  end_ms: 156650\n- text: Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  start_ms: 156650\n  end_ms: 160640\n- text: Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  start_ms: 160640\n  end_ms: 164380\n- text: Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  start_ms: 164380\n  end_ms: 167750\n- text: They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  start_ms: 167750\n  end_ms: 172400\n- text: Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  start_ms: 172400\n  end_ms: 175820\n- text: Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  start_ms: 175820\n  end_ms: 179280\n- text: And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  start_ms: 179280\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 186590\n- text: That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  start_ms: 186590\n  end_ms: 189460\n- text: Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  start_ms: 189460\n  end_ms: 191140\n- text: See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  start_ms: 191140\n  end_ms: 192670\n- text: Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  start_ms: 192670\n  end_ms: 193880\n- text: And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  start_ms: 193880\n  end_ms: 196160\n- text: And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n  start_ms: 196160\n  end_ms: 198170\n- text: I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  start_ms: 198170\n  end_ms: 199770\n- text: And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  start_ms: 199770\n  end_ms: 201160\n- text: Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  start_ms: 201160\n  end_ms: 202360\n- text: Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  start_ms: 202360\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 205800\n- text: You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  start_ms: 205800\n  end_ms: 208830\n- text: And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  start_ms: 208830\n  end_ms: 212550\n- text: Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  start_ms: 212550\n  end_ms: 216440\n- text: What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  start_ms: 216440\n  end_ms: 218580\n- text: You apostrophe bitch?\n  start_ms: 218580\n  end_ms: 220130\n- text: Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  start_ms: 220130\n  end_ms: 223530\n- text: Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  start_ms: 223530\n  end_ms: 226340\n- text: With tha Carter IV\n  start_ms: 226340\n  end_ms: 228400\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 228400\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  when I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":31027252,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil' Wayne","albumName":"New Orleans Nightmare Pt. 9","duration":118.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\ntestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\ngot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nwhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.86] Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n[00:18.54] Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n[00:20.50] Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n[00:22.50] You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n[00:24.03] Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n[00:25.90] Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n[00:27.56] Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n[00:29.49] Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n[00:30.78] No tricks, man, those is for kids\n[00:32.99] Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n[00:35.05] Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n[00:36.90] You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n[00:38.52] I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n[00:40.29] Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n[00:42.02] We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n[00:44.13] And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n[00:46.20] Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n[00:52.53] Reppin' QB till the death of him\n[00:54.85] That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n[00:58.21] Track record, goes back to the Essence\n[01:01.02] Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n[01:02.73] I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n[01:04.46] I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n[01:06.33] Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n[01:08.06] But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n[01:10.41] Typecast in the same role\n[01:12.40] Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n[01:14.95] Cocaine white Range Rov'\n[01:16.89] Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n[01:18.70] I did real good for a project nigga\n[01:20.76] Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n[01:22.14] Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n[01:24.04] Guns in compartments hidden\n[01:25.54] I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n[01:27.84] Blessings, bowed down, respected\n[01:29.98] Chowed down, now my food's digested\n[01:31.74] Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n[01:33.62] That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n[01:35.38] Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n[01:37.62] Testin', testin'\n[01:38.43] Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n[01:40.85] Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n[01:42.46] I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n[01:44.18] Been in this shit since '91\n[01:46.49] Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n[01:47.98] Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n[01:49.52] Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n[01:51.42] Studied cowards and made power moves\n[01:53.68] Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n[01:55.48] You can say that's how I move\n[01:57.31] A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n[02:00.00] There go my nigga Wayne\n[02:01.16] Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n[02:02.83] \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n[02:04.76] I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n[02:07.72] Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n[02:10.35] I'm a shotta,\n[02:12.25] When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n[02:14.68] Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n[02:18.08] Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n[02:19.96] It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n[02:25.88] I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n[02:29.37] They ain't gon' fight\n[02:30.43] They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n[02:32.92] Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n[02:36.65] Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n[02:40.64] Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n[02:44.38] Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n[02:47.75] They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n[02:52.40] Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n[02:55.82] Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n[02:59.28] And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n[03:02.74] They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n[03:06.59] That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n[03:09.46] Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n[03:11.14] See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n[03:12.67] Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n[03:13.88] And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n[03:16.16] And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n[03:18.17] I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n[03:19.77] And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n[03:21.16] Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n[03:22.36] Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n[03:24.12] When I'm done (DAMN!)\n[03:25.80] You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n[03:28.83] And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n[03:32.55] Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n[03:36.44] What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n[03:38.58] You apostrophe bitch?\n[03:40.13] Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n[03:43.53] Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n[03:46.34] With tha Carter IV\n[03:48.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil' Wayne\n  album: New Orleans Nightmare Pt. 9\n  duration_ms: 118000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  start_ms: 13860\n  end_ms: 18540\n- text: Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  start_ms: 18540\n  end_ms: 20500\n- text: Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  start_ms: 20500\n  end_ms: 22500\n- text: You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  start_ms: 22500\n  end_ms: 24030\n- text: Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  start_ms: 24030\n  end_ms: 25900\n- text: Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  start_ms: 25900\n  end_ms: 27560\n- text: Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  start_ms: 27560\n  end_ms: 29490\n- text: Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  start_ms: 29490\n  end_ms: 30780\n- text: No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  start_ms: 30780\n  end_ms: 32990\n- text: Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  start_ms: 32990\n  end_ms: 35050\n- text: Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  start_ms: 35050\n  end_ms: 36900\n- text: You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  start_ms: 36900\n  end_ms: 38520\n- text: I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  start_ms: 38520\n  end_ms: 40290\n- text: Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  start_ms: 40290\n  end_ms: 42020\n- text: We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  start_ms: 42020\n  end_ms: 44130\n- text: And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  start_ms: 44130\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 52530\n- text: Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  start_ms: 52530\n  end_ms: 54850\n- text: That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  start_ms: 54850\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61020\n- text: Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  start_ms: 61020\n  end_ms: 62730\n- text: I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  start_ms: 62730\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 66330\n- text: Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  start_ms: 66330\n  end_ms: 68060\n- text: But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  start_ms: 68060\n  end_ms: 70410\n- text: Typecast in the same role\n  start_ms: 70410\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 74950\n- text: Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  start_ms: 74950\n  end_ms: 76890\n- text: Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  start_ms: 76890\n  end_ms: 78700\n- text: I did real good for a project nigga\n  start_ms: 78700\n  end_ms: 80760\n- text: Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  start_ms: 80760\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 84040\n- text: Guns in compartments hidden\n  start_ms: 84040\n  end_ms: 85540\n- text: I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  start_ms: 85540\n  end_ms: 87840\n- text: Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  start_ms: 87840\n  end_ms: 89980\n- text: Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  start_ms: 89980\n  end_ms: 91740\n- text: Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  start_ms: 91740\n  end_ms: 93620\n- text: That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  start_ms: 93620\n  end_ms: 95380\n- text: Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  start_ms: 95380\n  end_ms: 97620\n- text: Testin', testin'\n  start_ms: 97620\n  end_ms: 98430\n- text: Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  start_ms: 98430\n  end_ms: 100850\n- text: Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  start_ms: 100850\n  end_ms: 102460\n- text: I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  start_ms: 102460\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: Been in this shit since '91\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106490\n- text: Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  start_ms: 106490\n  end_ms: 107980\n- text: Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  start_ms: 107980\n  end_ms: 109520\n- text: Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  start_ms: 109520\n  end_ms: 111420\n- text: Studied cowards and made power moves\n  start_ms: 111420\n  end_ms: 113680\n- text: Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  start_ms: 113680\n  end_ms: 115480\n- text: You can say that's how I move\n  start_ms: 115480\n  end_ms: 117310\n- text: A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  start_ms: 117310\n  end_ms: 120000\n- text: There go my nigga Wayne\n  start_ms: 120000\n  end_ms: 121160\n- text: Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  start_ms: 121160\n  end_ms: 122830\n- text: '\"We ain''t got time to respond to niggas\"'\n  start_ms: 122830\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: I'm a shotta,\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 132250\n- text: When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  start_ms: 132250\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 138080\n- text: Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  start_ms: 138080\n  end_ms: 139960\n- text: It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  start_ms: 139960\n  end_ms: 145880\n- text: I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  start_ms: 145880\n  end_ms: 149370\n- text: They ain't gon' fight\n  start_ms: 149370\n  end_ms: 150430\n- text: They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  start_ms: 150430\n  end_ms: 152920\n- text: Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  start_ms: 152920\n  end_ms: 156650\n- text: Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  start_ms: 156650\n  end_ms: 160640\n- text: Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  start_ms: 160640\n  end_ms: 164380\n- text: Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  start_ms: 164380\n  end_ms: 167750\n- text: They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  start_ms: 167750\n  end_ms: 172400\n- text: Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  start_ms: 172400\n  end_ms: 175820\n- text: Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  start_ms: 175820\n  end_ms: 179280\n- text: And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  start_ms: 179280\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 186590\n- text: That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  start_ms: 186590\n  end_ms: 189460\n- text: Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  start_ms: 189460\n  end_ms: 191140\n- text: See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  start_ms: 191140\n  end_ms: 192670\n- text: Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  start_ms: 192670\n  end_ms: 193880\n- text: And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  start_ms: 193880\n  end_ms: 196160\n- text: And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n  start_ms: 196160\n  end_ms: 198170\n- text: I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  start_ms: 198170\n  end_ms: 199770\n- text: And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  start_ms: 199770\n  end_ms: 201160\n- text: Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  start_ms: 201160\n  end_ms: 202360\n- text: Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  start_ms: 202360\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 205800\n- text: You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  start_ms: 205800\n  end_ms: 208830\n- text: And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  start_ms: 208830\n  end_ms: 212550\n- text: Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  start_ms: 212550\n  end_ms: 216440\n- text: What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  start_ms: 216440\n  end_ms: 218580\n- text: You apostrophe bitch?\n  start_ms: 218580\n  end_ms: 220130\n- text: Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  start_ms: 220130\n  end_ms: 223530\n- text: Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  start_ms: 223530\n  end_ms: 226340\n- text: With tha Carter IV\n  start_ms: 226340\n  end_ms: 228400\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 228400\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  when I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":31412420,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"Tha Carter IV [Explicit Deluxe Version]/Explicit Deluxe Version","duration":235.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\ntestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\ngot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nwhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":"[00:13.86] Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n[00:18.54] Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n[00:20.50] Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n[00:22.50] You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n[00:24.03] Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n[00:25.90] Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n[00:27.56] Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n[00:29.49] Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n[00:30.78] No tricks, man, those is for kids\n[00:32.99] Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n[00:35.05] Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n[00:36.90] You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n[00:38.52] I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n[00:40.29] Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n[00:42.02] We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n[00:44.13] And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n[00:46.20] Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n[00:52.53] Reppin' QB till the death of him\n[00:54.85] That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n[00:58.21] Track record, goes back to the Essence\n[01:01.02] Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n[01:02.73] I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n[01:04.46] I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n[01:06.33] Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n[01:08.06] But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n[01:10.41] Typecast in the same role\n[01:12.40] Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n[01:14.95] Cocaine white Range Rov'\n[01:16.89] Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n[01:18.70] I did real good for a project nigga\n[01:20.76] Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n[01:22.14] Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n[01:24.04] Guns in compartments hidden\n[01:25.54] I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n[01:27.84] Blessings, bowed down, respected\n[01:29.98] Chowed down, now my food's digested\n[01:31.74] Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n[01:33.62] That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n[01:35.38] Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n[01:37.62] Testin', testin'\n[01:38.43] Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n[01:40.85] Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n[01:42.46] I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n[01:44.18] Been in this shit since '91\n[01:46.49] Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n[01:47.98] Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n[01:49.52] Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n[01:51.42] Studied cowards and made power moves\n[01:53.68] Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n[01:55.48] You can say that's how I move\n[01:57.31] A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n[02:00.00] There go my nigga Wayne\n[02:01.16] Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n[02:02.83] \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n[02:04.76] I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n[02:07.72] Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n[02:10.35] I'm a shotta,\n[02:12.25] When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n[02:14.68] Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n[02:18.08] Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n[02:19.96] It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n[02:25.88] I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n[02:29.37] They ain't gon' fight\n[02:30.43] They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n[02:32.92] Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n[02:36.65] Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n[02:40.64] Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n[02:44.38] Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n[02:47.75] They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n[02:52.40] Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n[02:55.82] Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n[02:59.28] And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n[03:02.74] They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n[03:06.59] That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n[03:09.46] Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n[03:11.14] See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n[03:12.67] Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n[03:13.88] And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n[03:16.16] And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n[03:18.17] I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n[03:19.77] And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n[03:21.16] Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n[03:22.36] Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n[03:24.12] When I'm done (DAMN!)\n[03:25.80] You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n[03:28.83] And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n[03:32.55] Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n[03:36.44] What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n[03:38.58] You apostrophe bitch?\n[03:40.13] Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n[03:43.53] Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n[03:46.34] With tha Carter IV\n[03:48.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: Tha Carter IV [Explicit Deluxe Version]/Explicit Deluxe Version\n  duration_ms: 235000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  start_ms: 13860\n  end_ms: 18540\n- text: Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  start_ms: 18540\n  end_ms: 20500\n- text: Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  start_ms: 20500\n  end_ms: 22500\n- text: You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  start_ms: 22500\n  end_ms: 24030\n- text: Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  start_ms: 24030\n  end_ms: 25900\n- text: Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  start_ms: 25900\n  end_ms: 27560\n- text: Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  start_ms: 27560\n  end_ms: 29490\n- text: Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  start_ms: 29490\n  end_ms: 30780\n- text: No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  start_ms: 30780\n  end_ms: 32990\n- text: Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  start_ms: 32990\n  end_ms: 35050\n- text: Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  start_ms: 35050\n  end_ms: 36900\n- text: You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  start_ms: 36900\n  end_ms: 38520\n- text: I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  start_ms: 38520\n  end_ms: 40290\n- text: Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  start_ms: 40290\n  end_ms: 42020\n- text: We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  start_ms: 42020\n  end_ms: 44130\n- text: And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  start_ms: 44130\n  end_ms: 46200\n- text: Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  start_ms: 46200\n  end_ms: 52530\n- text: Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  start_ms: 52530\n  end_ms: 54850\n- text: That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  start_ms: 54850\n  end_ms: 58210\n- text: Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  start_ms: 58210\n  end_ms: 61020\n- text: Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  start_ms: 61020\n  end_ms: 62730\n- text: I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  start_ms: 62730\n  end_ms: 64460\n- text: I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  start_ms: 64460\n  end_ms: 66330\n- text: Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  start_ms: 66330\n  end_ms: 68060\n- text: But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  start_ms: 68060\n  end_ms: 70410\n- text: Typecast in the same role\n  start_ms: 70410\n  end_ms: 72400\n- text: Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  start_ms: 72400\n  end_ms: 74950\n- text: Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  start_ms: 74950\n  end_ms: 76890\n- text: Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  start_ms: 76890\n  end_ms: 78700\n- text: I did real good for a project nigga\n  start_ms: 78700\n  end_ms: 80760\n- text: Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  start_ms: 80760\n  end_ms: 82140\n- text: Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  start_ms: 82140\n  end_ms: 84040\n- text: Guns in compartments hidden\n  start_ms: 84040\n  end_ms: 85540\n- text: I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  start_ms: 85540\n  end_ms: 87840\n- text: Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  start_ms: 87840\n  end_ms: 89980\n- text: Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  start_ms: 89980\n  end_ms: 91740\n- text: Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  start_ms: 91740\n  end_ms: 93620\n- text: That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  start_ms: 93620\n  end_ms: 95380\n- text: Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  start_ms: 95380\n  end_ms: 97620\n- text: Testin', testin'\n  start_ms: 97620\n  end_ms: 98430\n- text: Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  start_ms: 98430\n  end_ms: 100850\n- text: Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  start_ms: 100850\n  end_ms: 102460\n- text: I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  start_ms: 102460\n  end_ms: 104180\n- text: Been in this shit since '91\n  start_ms: 104180\n  end_ms: 106490\n- text: Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  start_ms: 106490\n  end_ms: 107980\n- text: Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  start_ms: 107980\n  end_ms: 109520\n- text: Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  start_ms: 109520\n  end_ms: 111420\n- text: Studied cowards and made power moves\n  start_ms: 111420\n  end_ms: 113680\n- text: Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  start_ms: 113680\n  end_ms: 115480\n- text: You can say that's how I move\n  start_ms: 115480\n  end_ms: 117310\n- text: A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  start_ms: 117310\n  end_ms: 120000\n- text: There go my nigga Wayne\n  start_ms: 120000\n  end_ms: 121160\n- text: Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  start_ms: 121160\n  end_ms: 122830\n- text: '\"We ain''t got time to respond to niggas\"'\n  start_ms: 122830\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130350\n- text: I'm a shotta,\n  start_ms: 130350\n  end_ms: 132250\n- text: When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  start_ms: 132250\n  end_ms: 134680\n- text: Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  start_ms: 134680\n  end_ms: 138080\n- text: Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  start_ms: 138080\n  end_ms: 139960\n- text: It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  start_ms: 139960\n  end_ms: 145880\n- text: I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  start_ms: 145880\n  end_ms: 149370\n- text: They ain't gon' fight\n  start_ms: 149370\n  end_ms: 150430\n- text: They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  start_ms: 150430\n  end_ms: 152920\n- text: Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  start_ms: 152920\n  end_ms: 156650\n- text: Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  start_ms: 156650\n  end_ms: 160640\n- text: Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  start_ms: 160640\n  end_ms: 164380\n- text: Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  start_ms: 164380\n  end_ms: 167750\n- text: They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  start_ms: 167750\n  end_ms: 172400\n- text: Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  start_ms: 172400\n  end_ms: 175820\n- text: Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  start_ms: 175820\n  end_ms: 179280\n- text: And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  start_ms: 179280\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 186590\n- text: That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  start_ms: 186590\n  end_ms: 189460\n- text: Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  start_ms: 189460\n  end_ms: 191140\n- text: See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  start_ms: 191140\n  end_ms: 192670\n- text: Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  start_ms: 192670\n  end_ms: 193880\n- text: And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  start_ms: 193880\n  end_ms: 196160\n- text: And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n  start_ms: 196160\n  end_ms: 198170\n- text: I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  start_ms: 198170\n  end_ms: 199770\n- text: And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  start_ms: 199770\n  end_ms: 201160\n- text: Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  start_ms: 201160\n  end_ms: 202360\n- text: Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  start_ms: 202360\n  end_ms: 204120\n- text: When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  start_ms: 204120\n  end_ms: 205800\n- text: You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  start_ms: 205800\n  end_ms: 208830\n- text: And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  start_ms: 208830\n  end_ms: 212550\n- text: Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  start_ms: 212550\n  end_ms: 216440\n- text: What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  start_ms: 216440\n  end_ms: 218580\n- text: You apostrophe bitch?\n  start_ms: 218580\n  end_ms: 220130\n- text: Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  start_ms: 220130\n  end_ms: 223530\n- text: Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  start_ms: 223530\n  end_ms: 226340\n- text: With tha Carter IV\n  start_ms: 226340\n  end_ms: 228400\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 228400\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  when I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":19559730,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"Da Drought 3","duration":29.831837,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hello? Look\nThat right there\nHold on\nNigga eatin' gummy bears and shit, studio\nMight be going out that disc\nThat was disc one, Drought 3\nIt's about to be disc two\nHope you got both of 'em free\nIf you didn't, you stupid\nAnyway\nShoutout Nelly, JD\nBlockado'\nMarly, don't shoot 'em\nIt's disc two, Drought 3, bitch","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: Da Drought 3\n  duration_ms: 29832\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Hello? Look\n  That right there\n  Hold on\n  Nigga eatin' gummy bears and shit, studio\n  Might be going out that disc\n  That was disc one, Drought 3\n  It's about to be disc two\n  Hope you got both of 'em free\n  If you didn't, you stupid\n  Anyway\n  Shoutout Nelly, JD\n  Blockado'\n  Marly, don't shoot 'em\n  It's disc two, Drought 3, bitch\n"},{"id":21213982,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"The Prefix (Advance)","duration":135.915102,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\nTestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\nGot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nWhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: The Prefix (Advance)\n  duration_ms: 135915\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  Testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":18900526,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"Da Drought Vol 3","duration":29.831812,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\nTestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\nGot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nWhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: Da Drought Vol 3\n  duration_ms: 29832\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  Testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":19260704,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"Tha Carter IV","duration":246.693333,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\nTestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\nGot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nWhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: Tha Carter IV\n  duration_ms: 246693\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  Testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":19334194,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"The W. Carter Collection 2","duration":31.085714,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\nTestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\nGot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nWhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: The W. Carter Collection 2\n  duration_ms: 31086\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  Testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":18845504,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil' Wayne","albumName":"Da Drought 3 (Disc 1)","duration":29.831812,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\nTestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\nGot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nWhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil' Wayne\n  album: Da Drought 3 (Disc 1)\n  duration_ms: 29832\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  Testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":19078415,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"Da Drought 3 CD2","duration":600.4325,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\nTestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\nGot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nWhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: Da Drought 3 CD2\n  duration_ms: 600433\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  Testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"},{"id":19031272,"name":"Outro","trackName":"Outro","artistName":"Lil Wayne","albumName":"Da Drought 3 CD1","duration":29.839813,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\nBig Bun B, but you already knew that\nLive from the state where they chop it and screw that\nYou hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\nMotherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\nFall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\nGet out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\nDeeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\nNo tricks, man, those is for kids\nKush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\nDrank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\nYou fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\nI'm sittin on the fours that clack\nComin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\nWe gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\nAnd we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\nLook who crept in with automatic weapons\nReppin' QB till the death of him\nThat nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\nTrack record, goes back to the Essence\nSmack adolescents who ask who the best is\nI'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\nI pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\nGut 'em like a gastric bypass\nBut ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\nTypecast in the same role\nSince 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\nCocaine white Range Rov'\nTats on my body like an art exhibit\nI did real good for a project nigga\nWas once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\nFat blunts in the car with strippers\nGuns in compartments hidden\nI was real young little youth, a novice nigga\nBlessings, bowed down, respected\nChowed down, now my food's digested\nPow pow, with my shooters are Techs\nThat'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\nLet's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\nTestin', testin'\nChop heads off like King Henry VIII\nGuillotine to ya neck bitch\nI'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\nBeen in this shit since '91\nNiggas can't fuck with the style I use\nYour fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\nCalm now, was a wylin' dude\nStudied cowards and made power moves\nWatched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\nYou can say that's how I move\nA monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\nThere go my nigga Wayne\nLet them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n\"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\nI'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\nPoverty and desperation made me everything I be\nI'm a shotta,\nWhen I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\nCall the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\nWord to Poppa, Blood gang, five\nIt's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\nI run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\nThey ain't gon' fight\nThey actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\nFlatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\nPoverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\nPut greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\nCash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\nThey say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\nUnderstandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\nAnything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\nAnd the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\nThey ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\nThat's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\nGot 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\nSee now they nominated a nigga to come and\nFlatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\nAnd they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\nAnd make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\nI gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\nAnd shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\nAin't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\nUp everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\nWhen I'm done (DAMN!)\nYou see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\nAnd I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\nMost of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\nWhat the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\nYou apostrophe bitch?\nOkay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\nTunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\nWith tha Carter IV","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Outro\n  artist: Lil Wayne\n  album: Da Drought 3 CD1\n  duration_ms: 29840\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Yeah, when I step in the spot, motherfuckers say \"who that?\"\n  Big Bun B, but you already knew that\n  Live from the state where they chop it and screw that\n  You hatin' on the trill OG, where they do that? (for real!)\n  Motherfuckers need to get off the dick, man\n  Fall the fuck back like a bike with no kickstand\n  Get out my mix man, just go' get you stuck\n  Deeper in the quicksand, with no easy fix, man\n  No tricks, man, those is for kids\n  Kush in my cigar, and hoes in the crib\n  Drank, and the 20 ounce froze in the fridge\n  You fuckin' with PA so you know what it is (what it is)\n  I'm sittin on the fours that clack\n  Comin' down candy in the golden 'Lac\n  We gettin' to the money like it's Goldman Sachs\n  And we do it for the pimps no holding back, let's go!\n  Look who crept in with automatic weapons\n  Reppin' QB till the death of him\n  That nigga that inspired lyrical tyrants like Kanye West and Em\n  Track record, goes back to the Essence\n  Smack adolescents who ask who the best is\n  I'm nasty like gas from a fat man's intestines\n  I pass it, you gaspin' for breath and you die fast\n  Gut 'em like a gastric bypass\n  But ya Nas advocates actors seemed to get\n  Typecast in the same role\n  Since 16 I ain't grow a day old yet my brain grow\n  Cocaine white Range Rov'\n  Tats on my body like an art exhibit\n  I did real good for a project nigga\n  Was once a Bacardi sipper, now it's Chandon\n  Fat blunts in the car with strippers\n  Guns in compartments hidden\n  I was real young little youth, a novice nigga\n  Blessings, bowed down, respected\n  Chowed down, now my food's digested\n  Pow pow, with my shooters are Techs\n  That'll bust louder than the noise that I just spit\n  Let's get one thing straight that my crown ain't for\n  Testin', testin'\n  Chop heads off like King Henry VIII\n  Guillotine to ya neck bitch\n  I'm a king in this thing, don't be dumb\n  Been in this shit since '91\n  Niggas can't fuck with the style I use\n  Your fate is sealed, no Heidi Klum\n  Calm now, was a wylin' dude\n  Studied cowards and made power moves\n  Watched Wild Planet seen lions devour food\n  You can say that's how I move\n  A monster nigga, and I don't really like doing songs with niggas\n  There go my nigga Wayne\n  Let them niggas hate or like my nigga Drake say\n  \"We ain't got time to respond to niggas\"\n  I'm a villain, I'm a villain, all that happens in the street\n  Poverty and desperation made me everything I be\n  I'm a shotta,\n  When I pop up with them poppers burn ya block up\n  Call the judges, call the coppers, we takin' over Gotham\n  Word to Poppa, Blood gang, five\n  It's that Blood gang five, but green is the bottom line\n  I run this town, I ain't gon' lie, they run they mouth\n  They ain't gon' fight\n  They actin' like they ain't gon' die until I let them 'llamas fly\n  Flatbush to Bed-do-or-die, from Watts to Larry Hoover Chi\n  Poverty and heroin, it's no place for a juvenile\n  Put greed in our heart, it's the green that we want\n  Cash Money is the company and Weezy the boss!\n  They say I'm underrated, but un-compete-with-able\n  Understandable, being that my rating levels are unreachable\n  Anything said other than that should be silenced, unspeakable!\n  And the thought of you being nicer than me, unfeasible!\n  They ask is what I do ever gonna stop, this shit will never end\n  That's when you hear a car crash in the vocal booth\n  Got 'em sayin' \"there he goes again!\"\n  See now they nominated a nigga to come and\n  Flatten everything now let me dominate it, nigga run\n  And they be knowin' that I be blackin' on everything\n  And make it complicated like a nigga constipated with a gun\n\n  I gotta make it what they want and wake 'em when I come\n  And shake 'em and bake 'em and take 'em to another place\n  Ain't no fakin', ain't no kind of mistakin' how I be breakin'\n  Up everything and be creating a s-s-s-situation\n  When I'm done (DAMN!)\n  You see I spit National Treasure, discography rich\n  And I done killed more cats than curiosity, snitch!\n  Most of you niggas sorry and owe apologies, quick\n  What the fuck you niggas still hangin' around here for,\n  You apostrophe bitch?\n  Okay, now enough of that, see now I'm out the door\n  Tunechi, thanks for giving us a whole 'nother classic\n  With tha Carter IV\n"}]