[{"id":11344040,"name":"Flatline","trackName":"Flatline","artistName":"MC Eiht","albumName":"Section 8","duration":273.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Geah\nThug shit, check this out\nCompton, geah\nI don't think they heard me on this one\nI said: compton, nigga!\nThat's how we doin it\nRegulating for all the gangstas\nWest side, nigga, hoo-bangin' gangstas, you know I'm sayin'\nCheck this out\nI said I dig into yo' body, you catch the flatline\nComtpon, where we from, nigga?\nCompton, all day, nigga\nWe gon' start it like this\nCheck this out\n\nWay back 4-4's seven years in the pen\n.38 with wooden handles and a fifth with gin\nLet me begin, before the days of committin sins\nI was a lil' knucklehead getting courted in\nTill I die c.p.t., y'all can't budge me\nKill a nigga for the neighborhood, can't judge me\nI'm lettin' the fire spit, y'all fools catchin' some slugs\nI regulate, servin' you way that straight thug\nYou know if you're slippin' you get laid up in the mud\nTake over your spot, pushin' china white and bud\nThe devious, the mind blowin', the over-throwin\nChristmas everyday in the hood, I keep it snowin\nIt's hot like that where I'm from\nYou bitches tryin to test, you meet the m-1\nFrom sun up, nigga, to sun down\nI pull out, your gat go down\nBitches, I run town, what up?\n\nGeah\nI said I dig into yo' body, you catch the flatline...\n\nY'all start runnin' and screamin' and pushin'\nAnd yellin' and slippin' and duckin'\nWhen you see the tec-9 buckin'\nStagger them motherf**kers, make em wish they hid\nSpittin, call me the ghetto f**kin' billy the kid\n\nYou be layin on your back tryin' to catch yo' breath\nLife starts to flash, now you're nearing death\nWhat's left, bitch? you see the glock starts tickin'\nDie, as I blast one more you stop kickin'\nFlee the scene to my next to akin\nCall back to the house, so they fly in ends\nJust made a real close trip to the pen\nAnd in another town I start the same trend\nI sets up shot 'cause your ass is done\nHoo-bang all day, my uzi weighs a ton\nAin't no fun if you don't want none\nRicochet off your shoulder blade, nigga, you're numb\nC'mon, geah\n\nChorus...\n\nMy mind got me caught in a twist, I can't cope\nI reminisce on the days in the hood slangin' dope\nCertain territories yo' ass couldn't float\nAnd if you caught slippin', then fool, that's all she wrote\nI like the life while dippin' blocks with heats\nI'm ready in a second to stop yo' heartbeat\nF**kin' around in the hood, smokin' with hoes\nViolators hit the blocks, we hittin' the floors\nY'all ain't caught us slippin', only wasted your ammo\nWe dips back through, dumps with the 4-4\nHollows come out the dark chamber\nExpress my anger, never run from danger\nServin mo' yayo, dash from the ranger\nDie by the hand of the unknown stranger\nMy position is stick, situation is thick\nI ride with real muthaf**kas and hit licks\nThe compton lunatic, way too sick\nConflict you pick, hear the 9 click, c'mon\n\nChorus...\n\nGeah\nComtpon gangsters all day\nHoo-bangin' affiliates\nYou catch the flatline","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Flatline\n  artist: MC Eiht\n  album: Section 8\n  duration_ms: 273000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Geah\n  Thug shit, check this out\n  Compton, geah\n  I don't think they heard me on this one\n  I said: compton, nigga!\n  That's how we doin it\n  Regulating for all the gangstas\n  West side, nigga, hoo-bangin' gangstas, you know I'm sayin'\n  Check this out\n  I said I dig into yo' body, you catch the flatline\n  Comtpon, where we from, nigga?\n  Compton, all day, nigga\n  We gon' start it like this\n  Check this out\n\n  Way back 4-4's seven years in the pen\n  .38 with wooden handles and a fifth with gin\n  Let me begin, before the days of committin sins\n  I was a lil' knucklehead getting courted in\n  Till I die c.p.t., y'all can't budge me\n  Kill a nigga for the neighborhood, can't judge me\n  I'm lettin' the fire spit, y'all fools catchin' some slugs\n  I regulate, servin' you way that straight thug\n  You know if you're slippin' you get laid up in the mud\n  Take over your spot, pushin' china white and bud\n  The devious, the mind blowin', the over-throwin\n  Christmas everyday in the hood, I keep it snowin\n  It's hot like that where I'm from\n  You bitches tryin to test, you meet the m-1\n  From sun up, nigga, to sun down\n  I pull out, your gat go down\n  Bitches, I run town, what up?\n\n  Geah\n  I said I dig into yo' body, you catch the flatline...\n\n  Y'all start runnin' and screamin' and pushin'\n  And yellin' and slippin' and duckin'\n  When you see the tec-9 buckin'\n  Stagger them motherf**kers, make em wish they hid\n  Spittin, call me the ghetto f**kin' billy the kid\n\n  You be layin on your back tryin' to catch yo' breath\n  Life starts to flash, now you're nearing death\n  What's left, bitch? you see the glock starts tickin'\n  Die, as I blast one more you stop kickin'\n  Flee the scene to my next to akin\n  Call back to the house, so they fly in ends\n  Just made a real close trip to the pen\n  And in another town I start the same trend\n  I sets up shot 'cause your ass is done\n  Hoo-bang all day, my uzi weighs a ton\n  Ain't no fun if you don't want none\n  Ricochet off your shoulder blade, nigga, you're numb\n  C'mon, geah\n\n  Chorus...\n\n  My mind got me caught in a twist, I can't cope\n  I reminisce on the days in the hood slangin' dope\n  Certain territories yo' ass couldn't float\n  And if you caught slippin', then fool, that's all she wrote\n  I like the life while dippin' blocks with heats\n  I'm ready in a second to stop yo' heartbeat\n  F**kin' around in the hood, smokin' with hoes\n  Violators hit the blocks, we hittin' the floors\n  Y'all ain't caught us slippin', only wasted your ammo\n  We dips back through, dumps with the 4-4\n  Hollows come out the dark chamber\n  Express my anger, never run from danger\n  Servin mo' yayo, dash from the ranger\n  Die by the hand of the unknown stranger\n  My position is stick, situation is thick\n  I ride with real muthaf**kas and hit licks\n  The compton lunatic, way too sick\n  Conflict you pick, hear the 9 click, c'mon\n\n  Chorus...\n\n  Geah\n  Comtpon gangsters all day\n  Hoo-bangin' affiliates\n  You catch the flatline\n"}]