[{"id":28445359,"name":"Potholderz","trackName":"Potholderz","artistName":"MF Doom","albumName":"Best of MF Doom","duration":121.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[DWIGHT SPITS]\nI strive to be humble lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\nTyson is a Fowl holocaust\nFill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bluh\nStand up get up\nLunge for your knife\nDon't forget your potholders\n\n[MF DOOM]\nWhat\nThese old things\nAbout to throw them away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\nUsually I take them off with oil of ole\nMC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day in it\nWorking on a way that we roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holdin heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n[Never too busy]\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[Swear to god]\nA lot of niggaz wish to die\nNeed to hold they horses\nThere's bigger fish to fry\nYour on the list\nIf not hit the number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\nCould have had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\nDwight pass da dutchie\nSo I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fire side it wont get blistered\nGot it\nWhat happened oh it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\n[DWIGHT SPITS]\nWhen I was four I pen god was born in new york\nBack in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescent of gods presence is thick\nUnlike vapor\nEscarole\nExtra roll\nWord to the baker\nPeace to the hard working ginger bread makers\nLooked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\nPoor music taste\nTen years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up heads do\n[Awwwww shit]\nMy name is Dwight Spits\nI'ma sonic addict\nI use to think it was merely a dangling habit\nBorn under a bad sign\nI'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it in the fine wine\nBarely born a virgin is what the stars said\nBlack not white red all over doe like elmo\nTwenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\nIt's a chore\nA fact of life\nA labor of love\nI get mad love but I can test the labor\nAnd it's wages\nYou know death\nI serving life from this gift of god\nDon't forget your potholders my niggaz","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.50] [DWIGHT SPITS]\n[00:20.73] I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n[00:21.67] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n[00:24.36] Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n[00:27.06] Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n[00:29.71] Ignore cordon bluh\n[00:30.74] Stand up get up\n[00:32.52] Lunge for your knife\n[00:33.48] Don't forget your potholders\n[00:35.21] [MF DOOM]\n[00:37.95] What\n[00:38.88] These old things\n[00:39.73] About to throw them away\n[00:40.69] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n[00:43.35] Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n[00:46.06] MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n[00:48.71] Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n[00:51.48] Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n[00:54.17] Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n[00:57.79] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[00:59.51] The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n[01:02.20] [Never too busy]\n[01:03.22] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:05.09] [Swear to god]\n[01:05.96] A lot of niggaz wish to die\n[01:07.73] Need to hold they horses\n[01:09.53] There's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.36] Your on the list\n[01:12.20] If not hit the number spot\n[01:14.01] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n[01:16.74] Could have had a V-8\n[01:19.40] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.14] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n[01:26.72] Dwight pass da dutchie\n[01:27.67] So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.31] Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n[01:33.03] Got it\n[01:33.92] What happened oh it's not lit\n[01:35.73] These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n[01:38.41] [DWIGHT SPITS]\n[01:39.34] When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n[01:40.28] Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n[01:43.80] The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n[01:46.58] Unlike vapor\n[01:47.48] Escarole\n[01:48.35] Extra roll\n[01:49.24] Word to the baker\n[01:50.19] Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n[01:51.94] Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n[01:54.61] Poor music taste\n[01:56.49] Ten years from being grown up\n[01:57.35] Rappers don't blow up heads do\n[01:59.22] [Awwwww shit]\n[02:01.02] My name is Dwight Spits\n[02:01.94] I'ma sonic addict\n[02:02.88] I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n[02:05.54] Born under a bad sign\n[02:07.38] I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.04] I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n[02:11.84] Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n[02:14.59] Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n[02:17.29] Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n[02:19.95] I make music every weekend\n[02:21.74] It's a chore\n[02:23.51] A fact of life\n[02:24.44] A labor of love\n[02:25.36] I get mad love but I can test the labor\n[02:28.05] And it's wages\n[02:28.95] You know death\n[02:29.90] I serving life from this gift of god\n[02:31.67] Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n[02:34.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz\n artist: MF Doom\n album: Best of MF Doom\n duration_ms: 121000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: '[DWIGHT SPITS]'\n start_ms: 3500\n end_ms: 20730\n- text: I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n start_ms: 20730\n end_ms: 21670\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n start_ms: 21670\n end_ms: 24360\n- text: Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24360\n end_ms: 27060\n- text: Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27060\n end_ms: 29710\n- text: Ignore cordon bluh\n start_ms: 29710\n end_ms: 30740\n- text: Stand up get up\n start_ms: 30740\n end_ms: 32520\n- text: Lunge for your knife\n start_ms: 32520\n end_ms: 33480\n- text: Don't forget your potholders\n start_ms: 33480\n end_ms: 35210\n- text: '[MF DOOM]'\n start_ms: 35210\n end_ms: 37950\n- text: What\n start_ms: 37950\n end_ms: 38880\n- text: These old things\n start_ms: 38880\n end_ms: 39730\n- text: About to throw them away\n start_ms: 39730\n end_ms: 40690\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n start_ms: 40690\n end_ms: 43350\n- text: Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n start_ms: 43350\n end_ms: 46060\n- text: MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n start_ms: 46060\n end_ms: 48710\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n start_ms: 48710\n end_ms: 51480\n- text: Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n start_ms: 51480\n end_ms: 54170\n- text: Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n start_ms: 54170\n end_ms: 57790\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 57790\n end_ms: 59510\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n start_ms: 59510\n end_ms: 62200\n- text: '[Never too busy]'\n start_ms: 62200\n end_ms: 63220\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63220\n end_ms: 65090\n- text: '[Swear to god]'\n start_ms: 65090\n end_ms: 65960\n- text: A lot of niggaz wish to die\n start_ms: 65960\n end_ms: 67730\n- text: Need to hold they horses\n start_ms: 67730\n end_ms: 69530\n- text: There's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 69530\n end_ms: 71360\n- text: Your on the list\n start_ms: 71360\n end_ms: 72200\n- text: If not hit the number spot\n start_ms: 72200\n end_ms: 74010\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n start_ms: 74010\n end_ms: 76740\n- text: Could have had a V-8\n start_ms: 76740\n end_ms: 79400\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79400\n end_ms: 82140\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n start_ms: 82140\n end_ms: 86720\n- text: Dwight pass da dutchie\n start_ms: 86720\n end_ms: 87670\n- text: So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 87670\n end_ms: 90310\n- text: Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n start_ms: 90310\n end_ms: 93030\n- text: Got it\n start_ms: 93030\n end_ms: 93920\n- text: What happened oh it's not lit\n start_ms: 93920\n end_ms: 95730\n- text: These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n start_ms: 95730\n end_ms: 98410\n- text: '[DWIGHT SPITS]'\n start_ms: 98410\n end_ms: 99340\n- text: When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n start_ms: 99340\n end_ms: 100280\n- text: Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 100280\n end_ms: 103800\n- text: The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n start_ms: 103800\n end_ms: 106580\n- text: Unlike vapor\n start_ms: 106580\n end_ms: 107480\n- text: Escarole\n start_ms: 107480\n end_ms: 108350\n- text: Extra roll\n start_ms: 108350\n end_ms: 109240\n- text: Word to the baker\n start_ms: 109240\n end_ms: 110190\n- text: Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n start_ms: 110190\n end_ms: 111940\n- text: Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n start_ms: 111940\n end_ms: 114610\n- text: Poor music taste\n start_ms: 114610\n end_ms: 116490\n- text: Ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 116490\n end_ms: 117350\n- text: Rappers don't blow up heads do\n start_ms: 117350\n end_ms: 119220\n- text: '[Awwwww shit]'\n start_ms: 119220\n end_ms: 121020\n- text: My name is Dwight Spits\n start_ms: 121020\n end_ms: 121940\n- text: I'ma sonic addict\n start_ms: 121940\n end_ms: 122880\n- text: I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n start_ms: 122880\n end_ms: 125540\n- text: Born under a bad sign\n start_ms: 125540\n end_ms: 127380\n- text: I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 127380\n end_ms: 130040\n- text: I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n start_ms: 130040\n end_ms: 131840\n- text: Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n start_ms: 131840\n end_ms: 134590\n- text: Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n start_ms: 134590\n end_ms: 137290\n- text: Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137290\n end_ms: 139950\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 139950\n end_ms: 141740\n- text: It's a chore\n start_ms: 141740\n end_ms: 143510\n- text: A fact of life\n start_ms: 143510\n end_ms: 144440\n- text: A labor of love\n start_ms: 144440\n end_ms: 145360\n- text: I get mad love but I can test the labor\n start_ms: 145360\n end_ms: 148050\n- text: And it's wages\n start_ms: 148050\n end_ms: 148950\n- text: You know death\n start_ms: 148950\n end_ms: 149900\n- text: I serving life from this gift of god\n start_ms: 149900\n end_ms: 151670\n- text: Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n start_ms: 151670\n end_ms: 154400\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 154400\nplain: |-\n [DWIGHT SPITS]\n I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bluh\n Stand up get up\n Lunge for your knife\n Don't forget your potholders\n\n [MF DOOM]\n What\n These old things\n About to throw them away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n [Never too busy]\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n [Swear to god]\n A lot of niggaz wish to die\n Need to hold they horses\n There's bigger fish to fry\n Your on the list\n If not hit the number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n Could have had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n Dwight pass da dutchie\n So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n Got it\n What happened oh it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\n [DWIGHT SPITS]\n When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n Unlike vapor\n Escarole\n Extra roll\n Word to the baker\n Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n Poor music taste\n Ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up heads do\n [Awwwww shit]\n My name is Dwight Spits\n I'ma sonic addict\n I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n Born under a bad sign\n I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n It's a chore\n A fact of life\n A labor of love\n I get mad love but I can test the labor\n And it's wages\n You know death\n I serving life from this gift of god\n Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n"},{"id":34989506,"name":"Potholderz","trackName":"Potholderz","artistName":"MF DOOM/Count Bass D","albumName":"Potholderz","duration":201.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.94] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.44] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.49] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.19] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.85] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.84] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.71] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.43] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.26] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.15] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.56] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.00] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.10] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.89] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.06] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.58] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.27] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.12] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.92] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.27] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.37] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.75] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.86] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.61] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.76] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.88] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.86] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.25] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.03] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.94] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.80] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.58] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.64] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.49] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.33] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.88] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.21] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.66] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.75] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.36] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.22] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.85] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.63] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.32] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.14] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.20] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.50] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.62] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.92] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.03] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.39] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.69] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.87] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.55] (More hot-)\n[02:38.10] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.23] (More hot shit)\n[02:42.83] \n[03:18.84] (A short time later)\n[03:20.17] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz\n artist: MF DOOM/Count Bass D\n album: Potholderz\n duration_ms: 201000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 940\n end_ms: 6440\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6440\n end_ms: 11490\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11490\n end_ms: 17190\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17190\n end_ms: 19850\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19850\n end_ms: 21840\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21840\n end_ms: 24710\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24710\n end_ms: 27430\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27430\n end_ms: 30260\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30260\n end_ms: 33150\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33150\n end_ms: 37560\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37560\n end_ms: 38000\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38000\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44100\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44100\n end_ms: 46890\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46890\n end_ms: 50060\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50060\n end_ms: 52580\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52580\n end_ms: 55270\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55270\n end_ms: 58120\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58120\n end_ms: 60920\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60920\n end_ms: 63270\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63270\n end_ms: 66370\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66370\n end_ms: 68750\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68750\n end_ms: 71860\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71860\n end_ms: 74610\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74610\n end_ms: 77760\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77760\n end_ms: 79880\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79880\n end_ms: 82860\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82860\n end_ms: 85250\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85250\n end_ms: 88030\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88030\n end_ms: 90940\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90940\n end_ms: 93800\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93800\n end_ms: 96580\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96580\n end_ms: 98640\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98640\n end_ms: 101490\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101490\n end_ms: 104330\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104330\n end_ms: 106880\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106880\n end_ms: 110210\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110210\n end_ms: 112660\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112660\n end_ms: 115750\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115750\n end_ms: 118360\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118360\n end_ms: 121220\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121220\n end_ms: 123850\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123850\n end_ms: 126630\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126630\n end_ms: 130320\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130320\n end_ms: 132140\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132140\n end_ms: 135200\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135200\n end_ms: 137500\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137500\n end_ms: 140620\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140620\n end_ms: 142920\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142920\n end_ms: 146030\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146030\n end_ms: 148390\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148390\n end_ms: 150690\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150690\n end_ms: 152870\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152870\n end_ms: 155550\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155550\n end_ms: 158100\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158100\n end_ms: 161230\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161230\n end_ms: 162830\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 162830\n end_ms: 198840\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198840\n end_ms: 200170\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 200170\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":19544353,"name":"Potholderz (Dirty)","trackName":"Potholderz (Dirty)","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"Hoe Cakes ／ Potholderz","duration":204.288,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.94] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.44] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.49] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.19] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.85] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.84] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.71] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.43] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.26] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.15] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.56] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.00] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.10] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.89] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.06] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.58] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.27] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.12] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.92] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.27] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.37] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.75] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.86] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.61] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.76] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.88] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.86] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.25] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.03] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.94] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.80] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.58] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.64] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.49] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.33] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.88] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.21] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.66] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.75] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.36] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.22] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.85] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.63] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.32] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.14] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.20] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.50] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.62] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.92] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.03] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.39] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.69] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.87] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.55] (More hot-)\n[02:38.10] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.23] (More hot shit)\n[02:42.83] \n[03:18.84] (A short time later)\n[03:20.17] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz (Dirty)\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: Hoe Cakes ／ Potholderz\n duration_ms: 204288\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 940\n end_ms: 6440\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6440\n end_ms: 11490\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11490\n end_ms: 17190\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17190\n end_ms: 19850\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19850\n end_ms: 21840\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21840\n end_ms: 24710\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24710\n end_ms: 27430\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27430\n end_ms: 30260\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30260\n end_ms: 33150\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33150\n end_ms: 37560\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37560\n end_ms: 38000\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38000\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44100\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44100\n end_ms: 46890\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46890\n end_ms: 50060\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50060\n end_ms: 52580\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52580\n end_ms: 55270\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55270\n end_ms: 58120\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58120\n end_ms: 60920\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60920\n end_ms: 63270\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63270\n end_ms: 66370\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66370\n end_ms: 68750\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68750\n end_ms: 71860\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71860\n end_ms: 74610\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74610\n end_ms: 77760\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77760\n end_ms: 79880\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79880\n end_ms: 82860\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82860\n end_ms: 85250\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85250\n end_ms: 88030\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88030\n end_ms: 90940\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90940\n end_ms: 93800\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93800\n end_ms: 96580\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96580\n end_ms: 98640\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98640\n end_ms: 101490\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101490\n end_ms: 104330\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104330\n end_ms: 106880\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106880\n end_ms: 110210\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110210\n end_ms: 112660\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112660\n end_ms: 115750\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115750\n end_ms: 118360\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118360\n end_ms: 121220\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121220\n end_ms: 123850\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123850\n end_ms: 126630\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126630\n end_ms: 130320\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130320\n end_ms: 132140\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132140\n end_ms: 135200\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135200\n end_ms: 137500\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137500\n end_ms: 140620\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140620\n end_ms: 142920\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142920\n end_ms: 146030\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146030\n end_ms: 148390\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148390\n end_ms: 150690\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150690\n end_ms: 152870\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152870\n end_ms: 155550\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155550\n end_ms: 158100\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158100\n end_ms: 161230\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161230\n end_ms: 162830\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 162830\n end_ms: 198840\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198840\n end_ms: 200170\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 200170\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":19548992,"name":"Potholderz (Instrumental)","trackName":"Potholderz (Instrumental)","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"Hoe Cakes / Potholderz","duration":224.10449,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.95] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.44] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.45] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.17] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.87] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.84] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.77] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.47] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.28] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.13] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.54] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.08] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.12] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.87] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.02] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.56] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.20] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.17] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.93] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.26] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.37] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.72] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.89] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.63] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.72] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.87] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.82] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.23] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.04] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.93] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.89] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.59] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.69] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.46] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.36] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.83] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.24] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.64] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.72] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.37] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.28] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.80] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.64] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.30] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.17] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.26] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.57] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.68] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.93] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.00] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.33] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.61] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.82] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.53] (More hot-)\n[02:38.14] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.24] (More hot shit)\n[02:43.87] \n[03:18.81] (A short time later)\n[03:19.44] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz (Instrumental)\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: Hoe Cakes / Potholderz\n duration_ms: 224104\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 950\n end_ms: 6440\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6440\n end_ms: 11450\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11450\n end_ms: 17170\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17170\n end_ms: 19870\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19870\n end_ms: 21840\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21840\n end_ms: 24770\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24770\n end_ms: 27470\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27470\n end_ms: 30280\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30280\n end_ms: 33130\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33130\n end_ms: 37540\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37540\n end_ms: 38080\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38080\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44120\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44120\n end_ms: 46870\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46870\n end_ms: 50020\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50020\n end_ms: 52560\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52560\n end_ms: 55200\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55200\n end_ms: 58170\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58170\n end_ms: 60930\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60930\n end_ms: 63260\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63260\n end_ms: 66370\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66370\n end_ms: 68720\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68720\n end_ms: 71890\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71890\n end_ms: 74630\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74630\n end_ms: 77720\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77720\n end_ms: 79870\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79870\n end_ms: 82820\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82820\n end_ms: 85230\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85230\n end_ms: 88040\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88040\n end_ms: 90930\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90930\n end_ms: 93890\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93890\n end_ms: 96590\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96590\n end_ms: 98690\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98690\n end_ms: 101460\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101460\n end_ms: 104360\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104360\n end_ms: 106830\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106830\n end_ms: 110240\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110240\n end_ms: 112640\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112640\n end_ms: 115720\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115720\n end_ms: 118370\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118370\n end_ms: 121280\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121280\n end_ms: 123800\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123800\n end_ms: 126640\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126640\n end_ms: 130300\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130300\n end_ms: 132170\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132170\n end_ms: 135260\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135260\n end_ms: 137570\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137570\n end_ms: 140680\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140680\n end_ms: 142930\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142930\n end_ms: 146000\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146000\n end_ms: 148330\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148330\n end_ms: 150610\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150610\n end_ms: 152820\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152820\n end_ms: 155530\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155530\n end_ms: 158140\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158140\n end_ms: 161240\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161240\n end_ms: 163870\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 163870\n end_ms: 198810\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198810\n end_ms: 199440\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 199440\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":20001135,"name":"Potholderz (Instrumental)","trackName":"Potholderz (Instrumental)","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"Hoe Cakes ／ Potholderz","duration":224.088,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.95] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.44] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.45] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.17] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.87] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.84] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.77] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.47] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.28] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.13] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.54] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.08] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.12] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.87] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.02] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.56] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.20] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.17] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.93] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.26] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.37] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.72] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.89] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.63] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.72] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.87] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.82] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.23] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.04] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.93] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.89] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.59] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.69] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.46] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.36] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.83] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.24] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.64] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.72] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.37] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.28] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.80] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.64] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.30] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.17] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.26] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.57] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.68] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.93] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.00] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.33] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.61] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.82] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.53] (More hot-)\n[02:38.14] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.24] (More hot shit)\n[02:43.87] \n[03:18.81] (A short time later)\n[03:19.44] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz (Instrumental)\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: Hoe Cakes ／ Potholderz\n duration_ms: 224088\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 950\n end_ms: 6440\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6440\n end_ms: 11450\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11450\n end_ms: 17170\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17170\n end_ms: 19870\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19870\n end_ms: 21840\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21840\n end_ms: 24770\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24770\n end_ms: 27470\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27470\n end_ms: 30280\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30280\n end_ms: 33130\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33130\n end_ms: 37540\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37540\n end_ms: 38080\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38080\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44120\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44120\n end_ms: 46870\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46870\n end_ms: 50020\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50020\n end_ms: 52560\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52560\n end_ms: 55200\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55200\n end_ms: 58170\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58170\n end_ms: 60930\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60930\n end_ms: 63260\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63260\n end_ms: 66370\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66370\n end_ms: 68720\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68720\n end_ms: 71890\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71890\n end_ms: 74630\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74630\n end_ms: 77720\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77720\n end_ms: 79870\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79870\n end_ms: 82820\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82820\n end_ms: 85230\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85230\n end_ms: 88040\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88040\n end_ms: 90930\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90930\n end_ms: 93890\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93890\n end_ms: 96590\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96590\n end_ms: 98690\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98690\n end_ms: 101460\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101460\n end_ms: 104360\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104360\n end_ms: 106830\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106830\n end_ms: 110240\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110240\n end_ms: 112640\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112640\n end_ms: 115720\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115720\n end_ms: 118370\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118370\n end_ms: 121280\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121280\n end_ms: 123800\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123800\n end_ms: 126640\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126640\n end_ms: 130300\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130300\n end_ms: 132170\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132170\n end_ms: 135260\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135260\n end_ms: 137570\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137570\n end_ms: 140680\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140680\n end_ms: 142930\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142930\n end_ms: 146000\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146000\n end_ms: 148330\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148330\n end_ms: 150610\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150610\n end_ms: 152820\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152820\n end_ms: 155530\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155530\n end_ms: 158140\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158140\n end_ms: 161240\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161240\n end_ms: 163870\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 163870\n end_ms: 198810\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198810\n end_ms: 199440\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 199440\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":19056977,"name":"Potholderz (Dirty)","trackName":"Potholderz (Dirty)","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"Hoe Cakes / Potholderz","duration":204.303673,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.94] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.44] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.49] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.19] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.85] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.84] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.71] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.43] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.26] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.15] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.56] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.00] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.10] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.89] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.06] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.58] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.27] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.12] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.92] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.27] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.37] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.75] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.86] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.61] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.76] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.88] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.86] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.25] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.03] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.94] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.80] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.58] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.64] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.49] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.33] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.88] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.21] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.66] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.75] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.36] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.22] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.85] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.63] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.32] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.14] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.20] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.50] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.62] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.92] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.03] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.39] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.69] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.87] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.55] (More hot-)\n[02:38.10] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.23] (More hot shit)\n[02:42.83] \n[03:18.84] (A short time later)\n[03:20.17] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz (Dirty)\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: Hoe Cakes / Potholderz\n duration_ms: 204304\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 940\n end_ms: 6440\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6440\n end_ms: 11490\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11490\n end_ms: 17190\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17190\n end_ms: 19850\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19850\n end_ms: 21840\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21840\n end_ms: 24710\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24710\n end_ms: 27430\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27430\n end_ms: 30260\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30260\n end_ms: 33150\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33150\n end_ms: 37560\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37560\n end_ms: 38000\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38000\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44100\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44100\n end_ms: 46890\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46890\n end_ms: 50060\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50060\n end_ms: 52580\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52580\n end_ms: 55270\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55270\n end_ms: 58120\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58120\n end_ms: 60920\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60920\n end_ms: 63270\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63270\n end_ms: 66370\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66370\n end_ms: 68750\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68750\n end_ms: 71860\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71860\n end_ms: 74610\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74610\n end_ms: 77760\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77760\n end_ms: 79880\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79880\n end_ms: 82860\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82860\n end_ms: 85250\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85250\n end_ms: 88030\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88030\n end_ms: 90940\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90940\n end_ms: 93800\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93800\n end_ms: 96580\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96580\n end_ms: 98640\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98640\n end_ms: 101490\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101490\n end_ms: 104330\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104330\n end_ms: 106880\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106880\n end_ms: 110210\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110210\n end_ms: 112660\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112660\n end_ms: 115750\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115750\n end_ms: 118360\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118360\n end_ms: 121220\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121220\n end_ms: 123850\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123850\n end_ms: 126630\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126630\n end_ms: 130320\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130320\n end_ms: 132140\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132140\n end_ms: 135200\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135200\n end_ms: 137500\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137500\n end_ms: 140620\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140620\n end_ms: 142920\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142920\n end_ms: 146030\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146030\n end_ms: 148390\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148390\n end_ms: 150690\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150690\n end_ms: 152870\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152870\n end_ms: 155550\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155550\n end_ms: 158100\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158100\n end_ms: 161230\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161230\n end_ms: 162830\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 162830\n end_ms: 198840\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198840\n end_ms: 200170\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 200170\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":17498388,"name":"Potholderz (Clean)","trackName":"Potholderz (Clean)","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"Hoe Cakes ／ Potholderz","duration":202.344,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.92] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.49] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.43] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.12] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.87] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.89] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.70] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.41] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.22] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.12] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.51] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.09] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.16] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.84] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.01] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.57] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.21] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.12] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.94] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.24] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.32] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.76] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.88] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.63] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.76] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.85] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.89] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.22] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.06] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.97] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.85] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.56] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.60] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.47] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.33] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.80] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.27] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.65] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.72] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.30] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.25] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.81] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.67] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.31] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.16] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.28] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.59] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.68] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.90] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.03] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.31] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.62] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.88] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.50] (More hot-)\n[02:38.15] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.25] (More hot shit)\n[02:43.88] \n[03:18.85] (A short time later)\n[03:19.48] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz (Clean)\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: Hoe Cakes ／ Potholderz\n duration_ms: 202344\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 920\n end_ms: 6490\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6490\n end_ms: 11430\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11430\n end_ms: 17120\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17120\n end_ms: 19870\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19870\n end_ms: 21890\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21890\n end_ms: 24700\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24700\n end_ms: 27410\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27410\n end_ms: 30220\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30220\n end_ms: 33120\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33120\n end_ms: 37510\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37510\n end_ms: 38090\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38090\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44160\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44160\n end_ms: 46840\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46840\n end_ms: 50010\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50010\n end_ms: 52570\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52570\n end_ms: 55210\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55210\n end_ms: 58120\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58120\n end_ms: 60940\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60940\n end_ms: 63240\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63240\n end_ms: 66320\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66320\n end_ms: 68760\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68760\n end_ms: 71880\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71880\n end_ms: 74630\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74630\n end_ms: 77760\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77760\n end_ms: 79850\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79850\n end_ms: 82890\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82890\n end_ms: 85220\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85220\n end_ms: 88060\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88060\n end_ms: 90970\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90970\n end_ms: 93850\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93850\n end_ms: 96560\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96560\n end_ms: 98600\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98600\n end_ms: 101470\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101470\n end_ms: 104330\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104330\n end_ms: 106800\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106800\n end_ms: 110270\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110270\n end_ms: 112650\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112650\n end_ms: 115720\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115720\n end_ms: 118300\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118300\n end_ms: 121250\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121250\n end_ms: 123810\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123810\n end_ms: 126670\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126670\n end_ms: 130310\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130310\n end_ms: 132160\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132160\n end_ms: 135280\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135280\n end_ms: 137590\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137590\n end_ms: 140680\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140680\n end_ms: 142900\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142900\n end_ms: 146030\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146030\n end_ms: 148310\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148310\n end_ms: 150620\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150620\n end_ms: 152880\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152880\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 158150\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158150\n end_ms: 161250\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161250\n end_ms: 163880\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 163880\n end_ms: 198850\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198850\n end_ms: 199480\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 199480\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":13107636,"name":"Potholderz (Clean)","trackName":"Potholderz (Clean)","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"Hoe Cakes / Potholderz","duration":202.34449,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.94] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.44] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.49] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.19] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.85] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.84] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.71] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.43] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.26] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.15] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.56] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.00] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.10] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.89] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.06] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.58] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.27] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.12] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.92] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.27] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.37] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.75] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.86] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.61] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.76] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.88] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.86] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.25] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.03] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.94] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.80] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.58] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.64] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.49] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.33] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.88] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.21] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.66] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.75] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.36] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.22] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.85] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.63] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.32] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.14] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.20] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.50] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.62] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.92] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.03] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.39] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.69] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.87] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.55] (More hot-)\n[02:38.10] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.23] (More hot shit)\n[02:42.83] \n[03:18.84] (A short time later)\n[03:20.17] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz (Clean)\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: Hoe Cakes / Potholderz\n duration_ms: 202344\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 940\n end_ms: 6440\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6440\n end_ms: 11490\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11490\n end_ms: 17190\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17190\n end_ms: 19850\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19850\n end_ms: 21840\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21840\n end_ms: 24710\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24710\n end_ms: 27430\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27430\n end_ms: 30260\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30260\n end_ms: 33150\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33150\n end_ms: 37560\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37560\n end_ms: 38000\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38000\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44100\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44100\n end_ms: 46890\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46890\n end_ms: 50060\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50060\n end_ms: 52580\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52580\n end_ms: 55270\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55270\n end_ms: 58120\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58120\n end_ms: 60920\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60920\n end_ms: 63270\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63270\n end_ms: 66370\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66370\n end_ms: 68750\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68750\n end_ms: 71860\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71860\n end_ms: 74610\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74610\n end_ms: 77760\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77760\n end_ms: 79880\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79880\n end_ms: 82860\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82860\n end_ms: 85250\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85250\n end_ms: 88030\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88030\n end_ms: 90940\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90940\n end_ms: 93800\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93800\n end_ms: 96580\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96580\n end_ms: 98640\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98640\n end_ms: 101490\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101490\n end_ms: 104330\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104330\n end_ms: 106880\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106880\n end_ms: 110210\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110210\n end_ms: 112660\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112660\n end_ms: 115750\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115750\n end_ms: 118360\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118360\n end_ms: 121220\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121220\n end_ms: 123850\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123850\n end_ms: 126630\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126630\n end_ms: 130320\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130320\n end_ms: 132140\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132140\n end_ms: 135200\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135200\n end_ms: 137500\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137500\n end_ms: 140620\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140620\n end_ms: 142920\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142920\n end_ms: 146030\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146030\n end_ms: 148390\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148390\n end_ms: 150690\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150690\n end_ms: 152870\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152870\n end_ms: 155550\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155550\n end_ms: 158100\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158100\n end_ms: 161230\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161230\n end_ms: 162830\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 162830\n end_ms: 198840\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198840\n end_ms: 200170\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 200170\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":14676406,"name":"Potholderz (feat. Count Bass D)","trackName":"Potholderz (feat. Count Bass D)","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"MF DOOM Videos","duration":201.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.92] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.49] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.43] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.12] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.87] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.89] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.70] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.41] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.22] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.12] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.51] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.09] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.16] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.84] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.01] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.57] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.21] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.12] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.94] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.24] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.32] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.76] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.88] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.63] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.76] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.85] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.89] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.22] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.06] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.97] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.85] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.56] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.60] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.47] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.33] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.80] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.27] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.65] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.72] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.30] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.25] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.81] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.67] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.31] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.16] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.28] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.59] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.68] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.90] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.03] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.31] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.62] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.88] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.50] (More hot-)\n[02:38.15] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.25] (More hot shit)\n[02:43.88] \n[03:18.85] (A short time later)\n[03:19.48] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz (feat. Count Bass D)\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: MF DOOM Videos\n duration_ms: 201000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 920\n end_ms: 6490\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6490\n end_ms: 11430\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11430\n end_ms: 17120\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17120\n end_ms: 19870\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19870\n end_ms: 21890\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21890\n end_ms: 24700\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24700\n end_ms: 27410\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27410\n end_ms: 30220\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30220\n end_ms: 33120\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33120\n end_ms: 37510\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37510\n end_ms: 38090\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38090\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44160\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44160\n end_ms: 46840\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46840\n end_ms: 50010\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50010\n end_ms: 52570\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52570\n end_ms: 55210\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55210\n end_ms: 58120\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58120\n end_ms: 60940\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60940\n end_ms: 63240\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63240\n end_ms: 66320\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66320\n end_ms: 68760\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68760\n end_ms: 71880\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71880\n end_ms: 74630\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74630\n end_ms: 77760\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77760\n end_ms: 79850\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79850\n end_ms: 82890\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82890\n end_ms: 85220\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85220\n end_ms: 88060\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88060\n end_ms: 90970\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90970\n end_ms: 93850\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93850\n end_ms: 96560\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96560\n end_ms: 98600\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98600\n end_ms: 101470\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101470\n end_ms: 104330\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104330\n end_ms: 106800\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106800\n end_ms: 110270\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110270\n end_ms: 112650\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112650\n end_ms: 115720\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115720\n end_ms: 118300\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118300\n end_ms: 121250\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121250\n end_ms: 123810\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123810\n end_ms: 126670\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126670\n end_ms: 130310\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130310\n end_ms: 132160\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132160\n end_ms: 135280\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135280\n end_ms: 137590\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137590\n end_ms: 140680\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140680\n end_ms: 142900\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142900\n end_ms: 146030\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146030\n end_ms: 148310\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148310\n end_ms: 150620\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150620\n end_ms: 152880\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152880\n end_ms: 155500\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155500\n end_ms: 158150\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158150\n end_ms: 161250\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161250\n end_ms: 163880\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 163880\n end_ms: 198850\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198850\n end_ms: 199480\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 199480\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":2009352,"name":"Potholderz","trackName":"Potholderz","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"Ugly Mac Beer Invasion: The Unofficial MF Doom Mixtape","duration":102.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[DWIGHT SPITS]\nI strive to be humble lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\nTyson is a Fowl holocaust\nFill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bluh\nStand up get up\nLunge for your knife\nDon't forget your potholders\n\n[MF DOOM]\nWhat\nThese old things\nAbout to throw them away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\nUsually I take them off with oil of ole\nMC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day in it\nWorking on a way that we roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holdin heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n[Never too busy]\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[Swear to god]\nA lot of niggaz wish to die\nNeed to hold they horses\nThere's bigger fish to fry\nYour on the list\nIf not hit the number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\nCould have had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\nDwight pass da dutchie\nSo I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fire side it wont get blistered\nGot it\nWhat happened oh it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\n[DWIGHT SPITS]\nWhen I was four I pen god was born in new york\nBack in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescent of gods presence is thick\nUnlike vapor\nEscarole\nExtra roll\nWord to the baker\nPeace to the hard working ginger bread makers\nLooked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\nPoor music taste\nTen years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up heads do\n[Awwwww shit]\nMy name is Dwight Spits\nI'ma sonic addict\nI use to think it was merely a dangling habit\nBorn under a bad sign\nI'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it in the fine wine\nBarely born a virgin is what the stars said\nBlack not white red all over doe like elmo\nTwenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\nIt's a chore\nA fact of life\nA labor of love\nI get mad love but I can test the labor\nAnd it's wages\nYou know death\nI serving life from this gift of god\nDon't forget your potholders my niggaz","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.50] [DWIGHT SPITS]\n[00:20.73] I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n[00:21.67] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n[00:24.36] Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n[00:27.06] Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n[00:29.71] Ignore cordon bluh\n[00:30.74] Stand up get up\n[00:32.52] Lunge for your knife\n[00:33.48] Don't forget your potholders\n[00:35.21] [MF DOOM]\n[00:37.95] What\n[00:38.88] These old things\n[00:39.73] About to throw them away\n[00:40.69] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n[00:43.35] Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n[00:46.06] MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n[00:48.71] Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n[00:51.48] Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n[00:54.17] Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n[00:57.79] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[00:59.51] The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n[01:02.20] [Never too busy]\n[01:03.22] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:05.09] [Swear to god]\n[01:05.96] A lot of niggaz wish to die\n[01:07.73] Need to hold they horses\n[01:09.53] There's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.36] Your on the list\n[01:12.20] If not hit the number spot\n[01:14.01] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n[01:16.74] Could have had a V-8\n[01:19.40] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.14] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n[01:26.72] Dwight pass da dutchie\n[01:27.67] So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.31] Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n[01:33.03] Got it\n[01:33.92] What happened oh it's not lit\n[01:35.73] These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n[01:38.41] [DWIGHT SPITS]\n[01:39.34] When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n[01:40.28] Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n[01:43.80] The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n[01:46.58] Unlike vapor\n[01:47.48] Escarole\n[01:48.35] Extra roll\n[01:49.24] Word to the baker\n[01:50.19] Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n[01:51.94] Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n[01:54.61] Poor music taste\n[01:56.49] Ten years from being grown up\n[01:57.35] Rappers don't blow up heads do\n[01:59.22] [Awwwww shit]\n[02:01.02] My name is Dwight Spits\n[02:01.94] I'ma sonic addict\n[02:02.88] I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n[02:05.54] Born under a bad sign\n[02:07.38] I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.04] I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n[02:11.84] Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n[02:14.59] Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n[02:17.29] Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n[02:19.95] I make music every weekend\n[02:21.74] It's a chore\n[02:23.51] A fact of life\n[02:24.44] A labor of love\n[02:25.36] I get mad love but I can test the labor\n[02:28.05] And it's wages\n[02:28.95] You know death\n[02:29.90] I serving life from this gift of god\n[02:31.67] Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n[02:34.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: 'Ugly Mac Beer Invasion: The Unofficial MF Doom Mixtape'\n duration_ms: 102000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: '[DWIGHT SPITS]'\n start_ms: 3500\n end_ms: 20730\n- text: I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n start_ms: 20730\n end_ms: 21670\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n start_ms: 21670\n end_ms: 24360\n- text: Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24360\n end_ms: 27060\n- text: Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27060\n end_ms: 29710\n- text: Ignore cordon bluh\n start_ms: 29710\n end_ms: 30740\n- text: Stand up get up\n start_ms: 30740\n end_ms: 32520\n- text: Lunge for your knife\n start_ms: 32520\n end_ms: 33480\n- text: Don't forget your potholders\n start_ms: 33480\n end_ms: 35210\n- text: '[MF DOOM]'\n start_ms: 35210\n end_ms: 37950\n- text: What\n start_ms: 37950\n end_ms: 38880\n- text: These old things\n start_ms: 38880\n end_ms: 39730\n- text: About to throw them away\n start_ms: 39730\n end_ms: 40690\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n start_ms: 40690\n end_ms: 43350\n- text: Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n start_ms: 43350\n end_ms: 46060\n- text: MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n start_ms: 46060\n end_ms: 48710\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n start_ms: 48710\n end_ms: 51480\n- text: Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n start_ms: 51480\n end_ms: 54170\n- text: Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n start_ms: 54170\n end_ms: 57790\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 57790\n end_ms: 59510\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n start_ms: 59510\n end_ms: 62200\n- text: '[Never too busy]'\n start_ms: 62200\n end_ms: 63220\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63220\n end_ms: 65090\n- text: '[Swear to god]'\n start_ms: 65090\n end_ms: 65960\n- text: A lot of niggaz wish to die\n start_ms: 65960\n end_ms: 67730\n- text: Need to hold they horses\n start_ms: 67730\n end_ms: 69530\n- text: There's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 69530\n end_ms: 71360\n- text: Your on the list\n start_ms: 71360\n end_ms: 72200\n- text: If not hit the number spot\n start_ms: 72200\n end_ms: 74010\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n start_ms: 74010\n end_ms: 76740\n- text: Could have had a V-8\n start_ms: 76740\n end_ms: 79400\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79400\n end_ms: 82140\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n start_ms: 82140\n end_ms: 86720\n- text: Dwight pass da dutchie\n start_ms: 86720\n end_ms: 87670\n- text: So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 87670\n end_ms: 90310\n- text: Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n start_ms: 90310\n end_ms: 93030\n- text: Got it\n start_ms: 93030\n end_ms: 93920\n- text: What happened oh it's not lit\n start_ms: 93920\n end_ms: 95730\n- text: These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n start_ms: 95730\n end_ms: 98410\n- text: '[DWIGHT SPITS]'\n start_ms: 98410\n end_ms: 99340\n- text: When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n start_ms: 99340\n end_ms: 100280\n- text: Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 100280\n end_ms: 103800\n- text: The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n start_ms: 103800\n end_ms: 106580\n- text: Unlike vapor\n start_ms: 106580\n end_ms: 107480\n- text: Escarole\n start_ms: 107480\n end_ms: 108350\n- text: Extra roll\n start_ms: 108350\n end_ms: 109240\n- text: Word to the baker\n start_ms: 109240\n end_ms: 110190\n- text: Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n start_ms: 110190\n end_ms: 111940\n- text: Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n start_ms: 111940\n end_ms: 114610\n- text: Poor music taste\n start_ms: 114610\n end_ms: 116490\n- text: Ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 116490\n end_ms: 117350\n- text: Rappers don't blow up heads do\n start_ms: 117350\n end_ms: 119220\n- text: '[Awwwww shit]'\n start_ms: 119220\n end_ms: 121020\n- text: My name is Dwight Spits\n start_ms: 121020\n end_ms: 121940\n- text: I'ma sonic addict\n start_ms: 121940\n end_ms: 122880\n- text: I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n start_ms: 122880\n end_ms: 125540\n- text: Born under a bad sign\n start_ms: 125540\n end_ms: 127380\n- text: I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 127380\n end_ms: 130040\n- text: I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n start_ms: 130040\n end_ms: 131840\n- text: Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n start_ms: 131840\n end_ms: 134590\n- text: Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n start_ms: 134590\n end_ms: 137290\n- text: Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137290\n end_ms: 139950\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 139950\n end_ms: 141740\n- text: It's a chore\n start_ms: 141740\n end_ms: 143510\n- text: A fact of life\n start_ms: 143510\n end_ms: 144440\n- text: A labor of love\n start_ms: 144440\n end_ms: 145360\n- text: I get mad love but I can test the labor\n start_ms: 145360\n end_ms: 148050\n- text: And it's wages\n start_ms: 148050\n end_ms: 148950\n- text: You know death\n start_ms: 148950\n end_ms: 149900\n- text: I serving life from this gift of god\n start_ms: 149900\n end_ms: 151670\n- text: Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n start_ms: 151670\n end_ms: 154400\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 154400\nplain: |-\n [DWIGHT SPITS]\n I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bluh\n Stand up get up\n Lunge for your knife\n Don't forget your potholders\n\n [MF DOOM]\n What\n These old things\n About to throw them away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n [Never too busy]\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n [Swear to god]\n A lot of niggaz wish to die\n Need to hold they horses\n There's bigger fish to fry\n Your on the list\n If not hit the number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n Could have had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n Dwight pass da dutchie\n So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n Got it\n What happened oh it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\n [DWIGHT SPITS]\n When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n Unlike vapor\n Escarole\n Extra roll\n Word to the baker\n Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n Poor music taste\n Ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up heads do\n [Awwwww shit]\n My name is Dwight Spits\n I'ma sonic addict\n I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n Born under a bad sign\n I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n It's a chore\n A fact of life\n A labor of love\n I get mad love but I can test the labor\n And it's wages\n You know death\n I serving life from this gift of god\n Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n"},{"id":19119391,"name":"Potholderz","trackName":"Potholderz","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"DOOM!","duration":308.27102,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[DWIGHT SPITS]\nI strive to be humble lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\nTyson is a Fowl holocaust\nFill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bluh\nStand up get up\nLunge for your knife\nDon't forget your potholders\n\n[MF DOOM]\nWhat\nThese old things\nAbout to throw them away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\nUsually I take them off with oil of ole\nMC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day in it\nWorking on a way that we roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holdin heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n[Never too busy]\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[Swear to god]\nA lot of niggaz wish to die\nNeed to hold they horses\nThere's bigger fish to fry\nYour on the list\nIf not hit the number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\nCould have had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\nDwight pass da dutchie\nSo I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fire side it wont get blistered\nGot it\nWhat happened oh it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\n[DWIGHT SPITS]\nWhen I was four I pen god was born in new york\nBack in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescent of gods presence is thick\nUnlike vapor\nEscarole\nExtra roll\nWord to the baker\nPeace to the hard working ginger bread makers\nLooked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\nPoor music taste\nTen years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up heads do\n[Awwwww shit]\nMy name is Dwight Spits\nI'ma sonic addict\nI use to think it was merely a dangling habit\nBorn under a bad sign\nI'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it in the fine wine\nBarely born a virgin is what the stars said\nBlack not white red all over doe like elmo\nTwenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\nIt's a chore\nA fact of life\nA labor of love\nI get mad love but I can test the labor\nAnd it's wages\nYou know death\nI serving life from this gift of god\nDon't forget your potholders my niggaz","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.50] [DWIGHT SPITS]\n[00:20.73] I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n[00:21.67] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n[00:24.36] Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n[00:27.06] Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n[00:29.71] Ignore cordon bluh\n[00:30.74] Stand up get up\n[00:32.52] Lunge for your knife\n[00:33.48] Don't forget your potholders\n[00:35.21] [MF DOOM]\n[00:37.95] What\n[00:38.88] These old things\n[00:39.73] About to throw them away\n[00:40.69] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n[00:43.35] Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n[00:46.06] MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n[00:48.71] Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n[00:51.48] Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n[00:54.17] Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n[00:57.79] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[00:59.51] The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n[01:02.20] [Never too busy]\n[01:03.22] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:05.09] [Swear to god]\n[01:05.96] A lot of niggaz wish to die\n[01:07.73] Need to hold they horses\n[01:09.53] There's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.36] Your on the list\n[01:12.20] If not hit the number spot\n[01:14.01] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n[01:16.74] Could have had a V-8\n[01:19.40] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.14] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n[01:26.72] Dwight pass da dutchie\n[01:27.67] So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.31] Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n[01:33.03] Got it\n[01:33.92] What happened oh it's not lit\n[01:35.73] These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n[01:38.41] [DWIGHT SPITS]\n[01:39.34] When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n[01:40.28] Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n[01:43.80] The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n[01:46.58] Unlike vapor\n[01:47.48] Escarole\n[01:48.35] Extra roll\n[01:49.24] Word to the baker\n[01:50.19] Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n[01:51.94] Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n[01:54.61] Poor music taste\n[01:56.49] Ten years from being grown up\n[01:57.35] Rappers don't blow up heads do\n[01:59.22] [Awwwww shit]\n[02:01.02] My name is Dwight Spits\n[02:01.94] I'ma sonic addict\n[02:02.88] I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n[02:05.54] Born under a bad sign\n[02:07.38] I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.04] I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n[02:11.84] Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n[02:14.59] Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n[02:17.29] Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n[02:19.95] I make music every weekend\n[02:21.74] It's a chore\n[02:23.51] A fact of life\n[02:24.44] A labor of love\n[02:25.36] I get mad love but I can test the labor\n[02:28.05] And it's wages\n[02:28.95] You know death\n[02:29.90] I serving life from this gift of god\n[02:31.67] Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n[02:34.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: DOOM!\n duration_ms: 308271\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: '[DWIGHT SPITS]'\n start_ms: 3500\n end_ms: 20730\n- text: I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n start_ms: 20730\n end_ms: 21670\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n start_ms: 21670\n end_ms: 24360\n- text: Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24360\n end_ms: 27060\n- text: Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27060\n end_ms: 29710\n- text: Ignore cordon bluh\n start_ms: 29710\n end_ms: 30740\n- text: Stand up get up\n start_ms: 30740\n end_ms: 32520\n- text: Lunge for your knife\n start_ms: 32520\n end_ms: 33480\n- text: Don't forget your potholders\n start_ms: 33480\n end_ms: 35210\n- text: '[MF DOOM]'\n start_ms: 35210\n end_ms: 37950\n- text: What\n start_ms: 37950\n end_ms: 38880\n- text: These old things\n start_ms: 38880\n end_ms: 39730\n- text: About to throw them away\n start_ms: 39730\n end_ms: 40690\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n start_ms: 40690\n end_ms: 43350\n- text: Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n start_ms: 43350\n end_ms: 46060\n- text: MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n start_ms: 46060\n end_ms: 48710\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n start_ms: 48710\n end_ms: 51480\n- text: Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n start_ms: 51480\n end_ms: 54170\n- text: Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n start_ms: 54170\n end_ms: 57790\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 57790\n end_ms: 59510\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n start_ms: 59510\n end_ms: 62200\n- text: '[Never too busy]'\n start_ms: 62200\n end_ms: 63220\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63220\n end_ms: 65090\n- text: '[Swear to god]'\n start_ms: 65090\n end_ms: 65960\n- text: A lot of niggaz wish to die\n start_ms: 65960\n end_ms: 67730\n- text: Need to hold they horses\n start_ms: 67730\n end_ms: 69530\n- text: There's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 69530\n end_ms: 71360\n- text: Your on the list\n start_ms: 71360\n end_ms: 72200\n- text: If not hit the number spot\n start_ms: 72200\n end_ms: 74010\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n start_ms: 74010\n end_ms: 76740\n- text: Could have had a V-8\n start_ms: 76740\n end_ms: 79400\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79400\n end_ms: 82140\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n start_ms: 82140\n end_ms: 86720\n- text: Dwight pass da dutchie\n start_ms: 86720\n end_ms: 87670\n- text: So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 87670\n end_ms: 90310\n- text: Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n start_ms: 90310\n end_ms: 93030\n- text: Got it\n start_ms: 93030\n end_ms: 93920\n- text: What happened oh it's not lit\n start_ms: 93920\n end_ms: 95730\n- text: These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n start_ms: 95730\n end_ms: 98410\n- text: '[DWIGHT SPITS]'\n start_ms: 98410\n end_ms: 99340\n- text: When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n start_ms: 99340\n end_ms: 100280\n- text: Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 100280\n end_ms: 103800\n- text: The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n start_ms: 103800\n end_ms: 106580\n- text: Unlike vapor\n start_ms: 106580\n end_ms: 107480\n- text: Escarole\n start_ms: 107480\n end_ms: 108350\n- text: Extra roll\n start_ms: 108350\n end_ms: 109240\n- text: Word to the baker\n start_ms: 109240\n end_ms: 110190\n- text: Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n start_ms: 110190\n end_ms: 111940\n- text: Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n start_ms: 111940\n end_ms: 114610\n- text: Poor music taste\n start_ms: 114610\n end_ms: 116490\n- text: Ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 116490\n end_ms: 117350\n- text: Rappers don't blow up heads do\n start_ms: 117350\n end_ms: 119220\n- text: '[Awwwww shit]'\n start_ms: 119220\n end_ms: 121020\n- text: My name is Dwight Spits\n start_ms: 121020\n end_ms: 121940\n- text: I'ma sonic addict\n start_ms: 121940\n end_ms: 122880\n- text: I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n start_ms: 122880\n end_ms: 125540\n- text: Born under a bad sign\n start_ms: 125540\n end_ms: 127380\n- text: I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 127380\n end_ms: 130040\n- text: I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n start_ms: 130040\n end_ms: 131840\n- text: Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n start_ms: 131840\n end_ms: 134590\n- text: Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n start_ms: 134590\n end_ms: 137290\n- text: Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137290\n end_ms: 139950\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 139950\n end_ms: 141740\n- text: It's a chore\n start_ms: 141740\n end_ms: 143510\n- text: A fact of life\n start_ms: 143510\n end_ms: 144440\n- text: A labor of love\n start_ms: 144440\n end_ms: 145360\n- text: I get mad love but I can test the labor\n start_ms: 145360\n end_ms: 148050\n- text: And it's wages\n start_ms: 148050\n end_ms: 148950\n- text: You know death\n start_ms: 148950\n end_ms: 149900\n- text: I serving life from this gift of god\n start_ms: 149900\n end_ms: 151670\n- text: Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n start_ms: 151670\n end_ms: 154400\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 154400\nplain: |-\n [DWIGHT SPITS]\n I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bluh\n Stand up get up\n Lunge for your knife\n Don't forget your potholders\n\n [MF DOOM]\n What\n These old things\n About to throw them away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n [Never too busy]\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n [Swear to god]\n A lot of niggaz wish to die\n Need to hold they horses\n There's bigger fish to fry\n Your on the list\n If not hit the number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n Could have had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n Dwight pass da dutchie\n So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n Got it\n What happened oh it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\n [DWIGHT SPITS]\n When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n Unlike vapor\n Escarole\n Extra roll\n Word to the baker\n Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n Poor music taste\n Ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up heads do\n [Awwwww shit]\n My name is Dwight Spits\n I'ma sonic addict\n I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n Born under a bad sign\n I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n It's a chore\n A fact of life\n A labor of love\n I get mad love but I can test the labor\n And it's wages\n You know death\n I serving life from this gift of god\n Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n"},{"id":10894054,"name":"Potholderz","trackName":"Potholderz","artistName":"MF Doom","albumName":"Doom","duration":201.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.94] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.44] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.49] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.19] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.85] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.84] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.71] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.43] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.26] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.15] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.56] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.00] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.10] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.89] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.06] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.58] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.27] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.12] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.92] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.27] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.37] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.75] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.86] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.61] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.76] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.88] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.86] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.25] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.03] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.94] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.80] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.58] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.64] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.49] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.33] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.88] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.21] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.66] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.75] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.36] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.22] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.85] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.63] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.32] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.14] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.20] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.50] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.62] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.92] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.03] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.39] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.69] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.87] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.55] (More hot-)\n[02:38.10] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.23] (More hot shit)\n[02:42.83] \n[03:18.84] (A short time later)\n[03:20.17] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz\n artist: MF Doom\n album: Doom\n duration_ms: 201000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 940\n end_ms: 6440\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6440\n end_ms: 11490\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11490\n end_ms: 17190\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17190\n end_ms: 19850\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19850\n end_ms: 21840\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21840\n end_ms: 24710\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24710\n end_ms: 27430\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27430\n end_ms: 30260\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30260\n end_ms: 33150\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33150\n end_ms: 37560\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37560\n end_ms: 38000\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38000\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44100\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44100\n end_ms: 46890\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46890\n end_ms: 50060\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50060\n end_ms: 52580\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52580\n end_ms: 55270\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55270\n end_ms: 58120\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58120\n end_ms: 60920\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60920\n end_ms: 63270\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63270\n end_ms: 66370\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66370\n end_ms: 68750\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68750\n end_ms: 71860\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71860\n end_ms: 74610\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74610\n end_ms: 77760\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77760\n end_ms: 79880\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79880\n end_ms: 82860\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82860\n end_ms: 85250\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85250\n end_ms: 88030\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88030\n end_ms: 90940\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90940\n end_ms: 93800\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93800\n end_ms: 96580\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96580\n end_ms: 98640\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98640\n end_ms: 101490\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101490\n end_ms: 104330\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104330\n end_ms: 106880\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106880\n end_ms: 110210\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110210\n end_ms: 112660\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112660\n end_ms: 115750\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115750\n end_ms: 118360\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118360\n end_ms: 121220\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121220\n end_ms: 123850\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123850\n end_ms: 126630\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126630\n end_ms: 130320\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130320\n end_ms: 132140\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132140\n end_ms: 135200\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135200\n end_ms: 137500\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137500\n end_ms: 140620\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140620\n end_ms: 142920\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142920\n end_ms: 146030\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146030\n end_ms: 148390\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148390\n end_ms: 150690\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150690\n end_ms: 152870\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152870\n end_ms: 155550\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155550\n end_ms: 158100\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158100\n end_ms: 161230\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161230\n end_ms: 162830\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 162830\n end_ms: 198840\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198840\n end_ms: 200170\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 200170\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":26685284,"name":"Potholderz","trackName":"Potholderz","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"Doom!","duration":98.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[DWIGHT SPITS]\nI strive to be humble lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\nTyson is a Fowl holocaust\nFill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bluh\nStand up get up\nLunge for your knife\nDon't forget your potholders\n\n[MF DOOM]\nWhat\nThese old things\nAbout to throw them away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\nUsually I take them off with oil of ole\nMC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day in it\nWorking on a way that we roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holdin heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n[Never too busy]\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[Swear to god]\nA lot of niggaz wish to die\nNeed to hold they horses\nThere's bigger fish to fry\nYour on the list\nIf not hit the number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\nCould have had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\nDwight pass da dutchie\nSo I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fire side it wont get blistered\nGot it\nWhat happened oh it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\n[DWIGHT SPITS]\nWhen I was four I pen god was born in new york\nBack in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescent of gods presence is thick\nUnlike vapor\nEscarole\nExtra roll\nWord to the baker\nPeace to the hard working ginger bread makers\nLooked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\nPoor music taste\nTen years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up heads do\n[Awwwww shit]\nMy name is Dwight Spits\nI'ma sonic addict\nI use to think it was merely a dangling habit\nBorn under a bad sign\nI'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it in the fine wine\nBarely born a virgin is what the stars said\nBlack not white red all over doe like elmo\nTwenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\nIt's a chore\nA fact of life\nA labor of love\nI get mad love but I can test the labor\nAnd it's wages\nYou know death\nI serving life from this gift of god\nDon't forget your potholders my niggaz","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.50] [DWIGHT SPITS]\n[00:20.73] I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n[00:21.67] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n[00:24.36] Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n[00:27.06] Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n[00:29.71] Ignore cordon bluh\n[00:30.74] Stand up get up\n[00:32.52] Lunge for your knife\n[00:33.48] Don't forget your potholders\n[00:35.21] [MF DOOM]\n[00:37.95] What\n[00:38.88] These old things\n[00:39.73] About to throw them away\n[00:40.69] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n[00:43.35] Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n[00:46.06] MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n[00:48.71] Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n[00:51.48] Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n[00:54.17] Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n[00:57.79] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[00:59.51] The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n[01:02.20] [Never too busy]\n[01:03.22] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:05.09] [Swear to god]\n[01:05.96] A lot of niggaz wish to die\n[01:07.73] Need to hold they horses\n[01:09.53] There's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.36] Your on the list\n[01:12.20] If not hit the number spot\n[01:14.01] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n[01:16.74] Could have had a V-8\n[01:19.40] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.14] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n[01:26.72] Dwight pass da dutchie\n[01:27.67] So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.31] Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n[01:33.03] Got it\n[01:33.92] What happened oh it's not lit\n[01:35.73] These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n[01:38.41] [DWIGHT SPITS]\n[01:39.34] When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n[01:40.28] Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n[01:43.80] The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n[01:46.58] Unlike vapor\n[01:47.48] Escarole\n[01:48.35] Extra roll\n[01:49.24] Word to the baker\n[01:50.19] Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n[01:51.94] Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n[01:54.61] Poor music taste\n[01:56.49] Ten years from being grown up\n[01:57.35] Rappers don't blow up heads do\n[01:59.22] [Awwwww shit]\n[02:01.02] My name is Dwight Spits\n[02:01.94] I'ma sonic addict\n[02:02.88] I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n[02:05.54] Born under a bad sign\n[02:07.38] I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.04] I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n[02:11.84] Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n[02:14.59] Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n[02:17.29] Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n[02:19.95] I make music every weekend\n[02:21.74] It's a chore\n[02:23.51] A fact of life\n[02:24.44] A labor of love\n[02:25.36] I get mad love but I can test the labor\n[02:28.05] And it's wages\n[02:28.95] You know death\n[02:29.90] I serving life from this gift of god\n[02:31.67] Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n[02:34.40] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: Doom!\n duration_ms: 98000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: '[DWIGHT SPITS]'\n start_ms: 3500\n end_ms: 20730\n- text: I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n start_ms: 20730\n end_ms: 21670\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n start_ms: 21670\n end_ms: 24360\n- text: Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24360\n end_ms: 27060\n- text: Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27060\n end_ms: 29710\n- text: Ignore cordon bluh\n start_ms: 29710\n end_ms: 30740\n- text: Stand up get up\n start_ms: 30740\n end_ms: 32520\n- text: Lunge for your knife\n start_ms: 32520\n end_ms: 33480\n- text: Don't forget your potholders\n start_ms: 33480\n end_ms: 35210\n- text: '[MF DOOM]'\n start_ms: 35210\n end_ms: 37950\n- text: What\n start_ms: 37950\n end_ms: 38880\n- text: These old things\n start_ms: 38880\n end_ms: 39730\n- text: About to throw them away\n start_ms: 39730\n end_ms: 40690\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n start_ms: 40690\n end_ms: 43350\n- text: Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n start_ms: 43350\n end_ms: 46060\n- text: MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n start_ms: 46060\n end_ms: 48710\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n start_ms: 48710\n end_ms: 51480\n- text: Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n start_ms: 51480\n end_ms: 54170\n- text: Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n start_ms: 54170\n end_ms: 57790\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 57790\n end_ms: 59510\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n start_ms: 59510\n end_ms: 62200\n- text: '[Never too busy]'\n start_ms: 62200\n end_ms: 63220\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63220\n end_ms: 65090\n- text: '[Swear to god]'\n start_ms: 65090\n end_ms: 65960\n- text: A lot of niggaz wish to die\n start_ms: 65960\n end_ms: 67730\n- text: Need to hold they horses\n start_ms: 67730\n end_ms: 69530\n- text: There's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 69530\n end_ms: 71360\n- text: Your on the list\n start_ms: 71360\n end_ms: 72200\n- text: If not hit the number spot\n start_ms: 72200\n end_ms: 74010\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n start_ms: 74010\n end_ms: 76740\n- text: Could have had a V-8\n start_ms: 76740\n end_ms: 79400\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79400\n end_ms: 82140\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n start_ms: 82140\n end_ms: 86720\n- text: Dwight pass da dutchie\n start_ms: 86720\n end_ms: 87670\n- text: So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 87670\n end_ms: 90310\n- text: Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n start_ms: 90310\n end_ms: 93030\n- text: Got it\n start_ms: 93030\n end_ms: 93920\n- text: What happened oh it's not lit\n start_ms: 93920\n end_ms: 95730\n- text: These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n start_ms: 95730\n end_ms: 98410\n- text: '[DWIGHT SPITS]'\n start_ms: 98410\n end_ms: 99340\n- text: When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n start_ms: 99340\n end_ms: 100280\n- text: Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 100280\n end_ms: 103800\n- text: The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n start_ms: 103800\n end_ms: 106580\n- text: Unlike vapor\n start_ms: 106580\n end_ms: 107480\n- text: Escarole\n start_ms: 107480\n end_ms: 108350\n- text: Extra roll\n start_ms: 108350\n end_ms: 109240\n- text: Word to the baker\n start_ms: 109240\n end_ms: 110190\n- text: Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n start_ms: 110190\n end_ms: 111940\n- text: Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n start_ms: 111940\n end_ms: 114610\n- text: Poor music taste\n start_ms: 114610\n end_ms: 116490\n- text: Ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 116490\n end_ms: 117350\n- text: Rappers don't blow up heads do\n start_ms: 117350\n end_ms: 119220\n- text: '[Awwwww shit]'\n start_ms: 119220\n end_ms: 121020\n- text: My name is Dwight Spits\n start_ms: 121020\n end_ms: 121940\n- text: I'ma sonic addict\n start_ms: 121940\n end_ms: 122880\n- text: I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n start_ms: 122880\n end_ms: 125540\n- text: Born under a bad sign\n start_ms: 125540\n end_ms: 127380\n- text: I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 127380\n end_ms: 130040\n- text: I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n start_ms: 130040\n end_ms: 131840\n- text: Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n start_ms: 131840\n end_ms: 134590\n- text: Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n start_ms: 134590\n end_ms: 137290\n- text: Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137290\n end_ms: 139950\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 139950\n end_ms: 141740\n- text: It's a chore\n start_ms: 141740\n end_ms: 143510\n- text: A fact of life\n start_ms: 143510\n end_ms: 144440\n- text: A labor of love\n start_ms: 144440\n end_ms: 145360\n- text: I get mad love but I can test the labor\n start_ms: 145360\n end_ms: 148050\n- text: And it's wages\n start_ms: 148050\n end_ms: 148950\n- text: You know death\n start_ms: 148950\n end_ms: 149900\n- text: I serving life from this gift of god\n start_ms: 149900\n end_ms: 151670\n- text: Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n start_ms: 151670\n end_ms: 154400\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 154400\nplain: |-\n [DWIGHT SPITS]\n I strive to be humble lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with it's mumbo sauce\n Tyson is a Fowl holocaust\n Fill and gas your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bluh\n Stand up get up\n Lunge for your knife\n Don't forget your potholders\n\n [MF DOOM]\n What\n These old things\n About to throw them away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J\n Usually I take them off with oil of ole\n MC's is crabs in a barrel pass the old bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n Working on a way that we roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holdin heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie\n [Never too busy]\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n [Swear to god]\n A lot of niggaz wish to die\n Need to hold they horses\n There's bigger fish to fry\n Your on the list\n If not hit the number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumbaclot\n Could have had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy that night that tried to rush me\n Dwight pass da dutchie\n So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fire side it wont get blistered\n Got it\n What happened oh it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\n [DWIGHT SPITS]\n When I was four I pen god was born in new york\n Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescent of gods presence is thick\n Unlike vapor\n Escarole\n Extra roll\n Word to the baker\n Peace to the hard working ginger bread makers\n Looked her up and down said hmmmm too much make up\n Poor music taste\n Ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up heads do\n [Awwwww shit]\n My name is Dwight Spits\n I'ma sonic addict\n I use to think it was merely a dangling habit\n Born under a bad sign\n I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it in the fine wine\n Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n Black not white red all over doe like elmo\n Twenty eight years have passed I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n It's a chore\n A fact of life\n A labor of love\n I get mad love but I can test the labor\n And it's wages\n You know death\n I serving life from this gift of god\n Don't forget your potholders my niggaz\n"},{"id":12086937,"name":"Potholderz","trackName":"Potholderz","artistName":"MF Doom","albumName":"Best of Mf","duration":200.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.94] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.44] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.49] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.19] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.85] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.84] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.71] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.43] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.26] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.15] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.56] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.00] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.10] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.89] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.06] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.58] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.27] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.12] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.92] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.27] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.37] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.75] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.86] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.61] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.76] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.88] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.86] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.25] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.03] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.94] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.80] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.58] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.64] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.49] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.33] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.88] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.21] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.66] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.75] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.36] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.22] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.85] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.63] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.32] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.14] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.20] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.50] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.62] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.92] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.03] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.39] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.69] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.87] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.55] (More hot-)\n[02:38.10] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.23] (More hot shit)\n[02:42.83] \n[03:18.84] (A short time later)\n[03:20.17] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz\n artist: MF Doom\n album: Best of Mf\n duration_ms: 200000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 940\n end_ms: 6440\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6440\n end_ms: 11490\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11490\n end_ms: 17190\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17190\n end_ms: 19850\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19850\n end_ms: 21840\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21840\n end_ms: 24710\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24710\n end_ms: 27430\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27430\n end_ms: 30260\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30260\n end_ms: 33150\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33150\n end_ms: 37560\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37560\n end_ms: 38000\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38000\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44100\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44100\n end_ms: 46890\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46890\n end_ms: 50060\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50060\n end_ms: 52580\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52580\n end_ms: 55270\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55270\n end_ms: 58120\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58120\n end_ms: 60920\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60920\n end_ms: 63270\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63270\n end_ms: 66370\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66370\n end_ms: 68750\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68750\n end_ms: 71860\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71860\n end_ms: 74610\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74610\n end_ms: 77760\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77760\n end_ms: 79880\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79880\n end_ms: 82860\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82860\n end_ms: 85250\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85250\n end_ms: 88030\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88030\n end_ms: 90940\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90940\n end_ms: 93800\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93800\n end_ms: 96580\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96580\n end_ms: 98640\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98640\n end_ms: 101490\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101490\n end_ms: 104330\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104330\n end_ms: 106880\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106880\n end_ms: 110210\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110210\n end_ms: 112660\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112660\n end_ms: 115750\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115750\n end_ms: 118360\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118360\n end_ms: 121220\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121220\n end_ms: 123850\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123850\n end_ms: 126630\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126630\n end_ms: 130320\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130320\n end_ms: 132140\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132140\n end_ms: 135200\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135200\n end_ms: 137500\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137500\n end_ms: 140620\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140620\n end_ms: 142920\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142920\n end_ms: 146030\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146030\n end_ms: 148390\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148390\n end_ms: 150690\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150690\n end_ms: 152870\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152870\n end_ms: 155550\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155550\n end_ms: 158100\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158100\n end_ms: 161230\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161230\n end_ms: 162830\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 162830\n end_ms: 198840\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198840\n end_ms: 200170\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 200170\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":29681560,"name":"Potholderz","trackName":"Potholderz","artistName":"MF DOOM feat. Count Bass D","albumName":"Best of MF Doom","duration":121.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\nHot shit, aw shit, hot shit\nHot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\nHot shit, aw shit\n\nI strive to be humble lest I stumble, never sold a jumbo\nOr copped chicken with its mumbo sauce\nTyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\nIgnore Cordon Bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife; don't forget your potholderz\n\nHot shit, what? These old things? About to throw them away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J.\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMC's is crabs in a barrel, pass the old bay\n\nHot as hell and it's a cold day in it\nWorking on a way that we go roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holdin' heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoe pie, never too busy\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\nSwear to God, a lot of niggaz wish to die\nThey need to hold their horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n\nYou're on the list, if not pick a number spot\nTen and a half timbs is made to kick your bumbaclaat\nI could have had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fire side it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\nWhen I was four I pen God was born in New York\nBack in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, escarole, extra roll, word to the baker\nPeace to the hard workin' ginger bread makers\n\nLooked her up and down, said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up heads, do, aw shit\n\nMy name is Dwight Spits, I'm a Sonic addict\nI use to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\nBarely born a virgin is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over though like Elmo\nTwenty eight years have passed, I feel I'm peakin'\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know death\nI'm servin' life on this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggaz\n\nMo' hot\nMo' hot shit\nMo' hot shit","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.22] Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n[00:06.42] Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit\n[00:10.94] Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n[00:15.88] Hot shit, aw shit\n[00:20.14] I strive to be humble lest I stumble, never sold a jumbo\n[00:23.38] Or copped chicken with its mumbo sauce\n[00:25.74] Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.44] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n[00:30.49] Ignore Cordon Bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.39] Lunge for your knife; don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.75] Hot shit, what? These old things? About to throw them away\n[00:41.74] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J.\n[00:44.11] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:47.13] MC's is crabs in a barrel, pass the old bay\n[00:50.26] Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n[00:52.55] Working on a way that we go roll away tinted\n[00:55.45] Some say the price of holdin' heat is often too high\n[00:58.60] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.96] The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie, never too busy\n[01:04.50] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.60] Swear to God, a lot of niggaz wish to die\n[01:08.96] They need to hold their horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:12.09] You're on the list, if not pick a number spot\n[01:14.87] Ten and a half timbs is made to kick your bumbaclaat\n[01:17.72] I could have had a V-8\n[01:20.12] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:23.07] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.76] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.54] So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n[01:31.16] Take it from the fire side it won't get blistered\n[01:34.11] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.76] These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n[01:38.88] When I was four I pen God was born in New York\n[01:41.96] Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.85] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:47.33] Unlike vapor, escarole, extra roll, word to the baker\n[01:50.54] Peace to the hard workin' ginger bread makers\n[01:52.60] Looked her up and down, said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.78] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.64] Rappers don't blow up heads, do, aw shit\n[02:01.79] My name is Dwight Spits, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:04.13] I use to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.88] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.61] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.66] Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n[02:15.46] Black not white, red all over though like Elmo\n[02:18.06] Twenty eight years have passed, I feel I'm peakin'\n[02:20.92] I make music every weekend\n[02:23.15] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.53] I get mad love but I detest the labor\n[02:28.62] And its wages, you know death\n[02:31.14] I'm servin' life on this gift of God\n[02:33.30] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggaz\n[02:35.80] Mo' hot\n[02:38.61] Mo' hot shit\n[02:41.22] Mo' hot shit\n[02:42.93] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz\n artist: MF DOOM feat. Count Bass D\n album: Best of MF Doom\n duration_ms: 121000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n start_ms: 1220\n end_ms: 6420\n- text: Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit\n start_ms: 6420\n end_ms: 10940\n- text: Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n start_ms: 10940\n end_ms: 15880\n- text: Hot shit, aw shit\n start_ms: 15880\n end_ms: 20140\n- text: I strive to be humble lest I stumble, never sold a jumbo\n start_ms: 20140\n end_ms: 23380\n- text: Or copped chicken with its mumbo sauce\n start_ms: 23380\n end_ms: 25740\n- text: Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 25740\n end_ms: 27440\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27440\n end_ms: 30490\n- text: Ignore Cordon Bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30490\n end_ms: 33390\n- text: Lunge for your knife; don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33390\n end_ms: 37750\n- text: Hot shit, what? These old things? About to throw them away\n start_ms: 37750\n end_ms: 41740\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J.\n start_ms: 41740\n end_ms: 44110\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44110\n end_ms: 47130\n- text: MC's is crabs in a barrel, pass the old bay\n start_ms: 47130\n end_ms: 50260\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n start_ms: 50260\n end_ms: 52550\n- text: Working on a way that we go roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52550\n end_ms: 55450\n- text: Some say the price of holdin' heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55450\n end_ms: 58600\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58600\n end_ms: 60960\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie, never too busy\n start_ms: 60960\n end_ms: 64500\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 64500\n end_ms: 66600\n- text: Swear to God, a lot of niggaz wish to die\n start_ms: 66600\n end_ms: 68960\n- text: They need to hold their horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68960\n end_ms: 72090\n- text: You're on the list, if not pick a number spot\n start_ms: 72090\n end_ms: 74870\n- text: Ten and a half timbs is made to kick your bumbaclaat\n start_ms: 74870\n end_ms: 77720\n- text: I could have had a V-8\n start_ms: 77720\n end_ms: 80120\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 80120\n end_ms: 83070\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 83070\n end_ms: 85760\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85760\n end_ms: 88540\n- text: So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88540\n end_ms: 91160\n- text: Take it from the fire side it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 91160\n end_ms: 94110\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 94110\n end_ms: 96760\n- text: These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n start_ms: 96760\n end_ms: 98880\n- text: When I was four I pen God was born in New York\n start_ms: 98880\n end_ms: 101960\n- text: Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101960\n end_ms: 104850\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104850\n end_ms: 107330\n- text: Unlike vapor, escarole, extra roll, word to the baker\n start_ms: 107330\n end_ms: 110540\n- text: Peace to the hard workin' ginger bread makers\n start_ms: 110540\n end_ms: 112600\n- text: Looked her up and down, said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112600\n end_ms: 115780\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115780\n end_ms: 118640\n- text: Rappers don't blow up heads, do, aw shit\n start_ms: 118640\n end_ms: 121790\n- text: My name is Dwight Spits, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121790\n end_ms: 124130\n- text: I use to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 124130\n end_ms: 126880\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126880\n end_ms: 130610\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130610\n end_ms: 132660\n- text: Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n start_ms: 132660\n end_ms: 135460\n- text: Black not white, red all over though like Elmo\n start_ms: 135460\n end_ms: 138060\n- text: Twenty eight years have passed, I feel I'm peakin'\n start_ms: 138060\n end_ms: 140920\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140920\n end_ms: 143150\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 143150\n end_ms: 146530\n- text: I get mad love but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146530\n end_ms: 148620\n- text: And its wages, you know death\n start_ms: 148620\n end_ms: 151140\n- text: I'm servin' life on this gift of God\n start_ms: 151140\n end_ms: 153300\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggaz\n start_ms: 153300\n end_ms: 155800\n- text: Mo' hot\n start_ms: 155800\n end_ms: 158610\n- text: Mo' hot shit\n start_ms: 158610\n end_ms: 161220\n- text: Mo' hot shit\n start_ms: 161220\n end_ms: 162930\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 162930\nplain: |-\n Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit\n Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n Hot shit, aw shit\n\n I strive to be humble lest I stumble, never sold a jumbo\n Or copped chicken with its mumbo sauce\n Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n Ignore Cordon Bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife; don't forget your potholderz\n\n Hot shit, what? These old things? About to throw them away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J.\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MC's is crabs in a barrel, pass the old bay\n\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n Working on a way that we go roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holdin' heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie, never too busy\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n Swear to God, a lot of niggaz wish to die\n They need to hold their horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n\n You're on the list, if not pick a number spot\n Ten and a half timbs is made to kick your bumbaclaat\n I could have had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fire side it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\n When I was four I pen God was born in New York\n Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, escarole, extra roll, word to the baker\n Peace to the hard workin' ginger bread makers\n\n Looked her up and down, said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up heads, do, aw shit\n\n My name is Dwight Spits, I'm a Sonic addict\n I use to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n\n Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over though like Elmo\n Twenty eight years have passed, I feel I'm peakin'\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know death\n I'm servin' life on this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggaz\n\n Mo' hot\n Mo' hot shit\n Mo' hot shit\n"},{"id":34380222,"name":"Potholderz (feat. Count Bass D)","trackName":"Potholderz (feat. Count Bass D)","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"The Best of MF DOOM","duration":121.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\nHot shit, aw shit, hot shit\nHot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\nHot shit, aw shit\n\nI strive to be humble lest I stumble, never sold a jumbo\nOr copped chicken with its mumbo sauce\nTyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\nIgnore Cordon Bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife; don't forget your potholderz\n\nHot shit, what? These old things? About to throw them away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J.\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMC's is crabs in a barrel, pass the old bay\n\nHot as hell and it's a cold day in it\nWorking on a way that we go roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holdin' heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoe pie, never too busy\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\nSwear to God, a lot of niggaz wish to die\nThey need to hold their horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n\nYou're on the list, if not pick a number spot\nTen and a half timbs is made to kick your bumbaclaat\nI could have had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fire side it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\nWhen I was four I pen God was born in New York\nBack in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, escarole, extra roll, word to the baker\nPeace to the hard workin' ginger bread makers\n\nLooked her up and down, said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up heads, do, aw shit\n\nMy name is Dwight Spits, I'm a Sonic addict\nI use to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\nBarely born a virgin is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over though like Elmo\nTwenty eight years have passed, I feel I'm peakin'\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know death\nI'm servin' life on this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggaz\n\nMo' hot\nMo' hot shit\nMo' hot shit","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.22] Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n[00:06.42] Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit\n[00:10.94] Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n[00:15.88] Hot shit, aw shit\n[00:20.14] I strive to be humble lest I stumble, never sold a jumbo\n[00:23.38] Or copped chicken with its mumbo sauce\n[00:25.74] Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.44] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n[00:30.49] Ignore Cordon Bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.39] Lunge for your knife; don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.75] Hot shit, what? These old things? About to throw them away\n[00:41.74] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J.\n[00:44.11] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:47.13] MC's is crabs in a barrel, pass the old bay\n[00:50.26] Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n[00:52.55] Working on a way that we go roll away tinted\n[00:55.45] Some say the price of holdin' heat is often too high\n[00:58.60] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.96] The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie, never too busy\n[01:04.50] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.60] Swear to God, a lot of niggaz wish to die\n[01:08.96] They need to hold their horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:12.09] You're on the list, if not pick a number spot\n[01:14.87] Ten and a half timbs is made to kick your bumbaclaat\n[01:17.72] I could have had a V-8\n[01:20.12] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:23.07] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.76] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.54] So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n[01:31.16] Take it from the fire side it won't get blistered\n[01:34.11] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.76] These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n[01:38.88] When I was four I pen God was born in New York\n[01:41.96] Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.85] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:47.33] Unlike vapor, escarole, extra roll, word to the baker\n[01:50.54] Peace to the hard workin' ginger bread makers\n[01:52.60] Looked her up and down, said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.78] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.64] Rappers don't blow up heads, do, aw shit\n[02:01.79] My name is Dwight Spits, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:04.13] I use to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.88] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.61] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.66] Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n[02:15.46] Black not white, red all over though like Elmo\n[02:18.06] Twenty eight years have passed, I feel I'm peakin'\n[02:20.92] I make music every weekend\n[02:23.15] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.53] I get mad love but I detest the labor\n[02:28.62] And its wages, you know death\n[02:31.14] I'm servin' life on this gift of God\n[02:33.30] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggaz\n[02:35.80] Mo' hot\n[02:38.61] Mo' hot shit\n[02:41.22] Mo' hot shit\n[02:42.93] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz (feat. Count Bass D)\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: The Best of MF DOOM\n duration_ms: 121000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n start_ms: 1220\n end_ms: 6420\n- text: Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit\n start_ms: 6420\n end_ms: 10940\n- text: Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n start_ms: 10940\n end_ms: 15880\n- text: Hot shit, aw shit\n start_ms: 15880\n end_ms: 20140\n- text: I strive to be humble lest I stumble, never sold a jumbo\n start_ms: 20140\n end_ms: 23380\n- text: Or copped chicken with its mumbo sauce\n start_ms: 23380\n end_ms: 25740\n- text: Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 25740\n end_ms: 27440\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27440\n end_ms: 30490\n- text: Ignore Cordon Bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30490\n end_ms: 33390\n- text: Lunge for your knife; don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33390\n end_ms: 37750\n- text: Hot shit, what? These old things? About to throw them away\n start_ms: 37750\n end_ms: 41740\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J.\n start_ms: 41740\n end_ms: 44110\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44110\n end_ms: 47130\n- text: MC's is crabs in a barrel, pass the old bay\n start_ms: 47130\n end_ms: 50260\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n start_ms: 50260\n end_ms: 52550\n- text: Working on a way that we go roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52550\n end_ms: 55450\n- text: Some say the price of holdin' heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55450\n end_ms: 58600\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58600\n end_ms: 60960\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie, never too busy\n start_ms: 60960\n end_ms: 64500\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 64500\n end_ms: 66600\n- text: Swear to God, a lot of niggaz wish to die\n start_ms: 66600\n end_ms: 68960\n- text: They need to hold their horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68960\n end_ms: 72090\n- text: You're on the list, if not pick a number spot\n start_ms: 72090\n end_ms: 74870\n- text: Ten and a half timbs is made to kick your bumbaclaat\n start_ms: 74870\n end_ms: 77720\n- text: I could have had a V-8\n start_ms: 77720\n end_ms: 80120\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 80120\n end_ms: 83070\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 83070\n end_ms: 85760\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85760\n end_ms: 88540\n- text: So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88540\n end_ms: 91160\n- text: Take it from the fire side it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 91160\n end_ms: 94110\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 94110\n end_ms: 96760\n- text: These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n start_ms: 96760\n end_ms: 98880\n- text: When I was four I pen God was born in New York\n start_ms: 98880\n end_ms: 101960\n- text: Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101960\n end_ms: 104850\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104850\n end_ms: 107330\n- text: Unlike vapor, escarole, extra roll, word to the baker\n start_ms: 107330\n end_ms: 110540\n- text: Peace to the hard workin' ginger bread makers\n start_ms: 110540\n end_ms: 112600\n- text: Looked her up and down, said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112600\n end_ms: 115780\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115780\n end_ms: 118640\n- text: Rappers don't blow up heads, do, aw shit\n start_ms: 118640\n end_ms: 121790\n- text: My name is Dwight Spits, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121790\n end_ms: 124130\n- text: I use to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 124130\n end_ms: 126880\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126880\n end_ms: 130610\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130610\n end_ms: 132660\n- text: Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n start_ms: 132660\n end_ms: 135460\n- text: Black not white, red all over though like Elmo\n start_ms: 135460\n end_ms: 138060\n- text: Twenty eight years have passed, I feel I'm peakin'\n start_ms: 138060\n end_ms: 140920\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140920\n end_ms: 143150\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 143150\n end_ms: 146530\n- text: I get mad love but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146530\n end_ms: 148620\n- text: And its wages, you know death\n start_ms: 148620\n end_ms: 151140\n- text: I'm servin' life on this gift of God\n start_ms: 151140\n end_ms: 153300\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggaz\n start_ms: 153300\n end_ms: 155800\n- text: Mo' hot\n start_ms: 155800\n end_ms: 158610\n- text: Mo' hot shit\n start_ms: 158610\n end_ms: 161220\n- text: Mo' hot shit\n start_ms: 161220\n end_ms: 162930\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 162930\nplain: |-\n Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit\n Hot shit, aw shit, hot shit, aw shit\n Hot shit, aw shit\n\n I strive to be humble lest I stumble, never sold a jumbo\n Or copped chicken with its mumbo sauce\n Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poetry I'm fed up\n Ignore Cordon Bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife; don't forget your potholderz\n\n Hot shit, what? These old things? About to throw them away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like O.J.\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MC's is crabs in a barrel, pass the old bay\n\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day in it\n Working on a way that we go roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holdin' heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoe pie, never too busy\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n Swear to God, a lot of niggaz wish to die\n They need to hold their horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n\n You're on the list, if not pick a number spot\n Ten and a half timbs is made to kick your bumbaclaat\n I could have had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fire side it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\n When I was four I pen God was born in New York\n Back in seventy seven still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, escarole, extra roll, word to the baker\n Peace to the hard workin' ginger bread makers\n\n Looked her up and down, said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up heads, do, aw shit\n\n My name is Dwight Spits, I'm a Sonic addict\n I use to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n\n Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over though like Elmo\n Twenty eight years have passed, I feel I'm peakin'\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know death\n I'm servin' life on this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggaz\n\n Mo' hot\n Mo' hot shit\n Mo' hot shit\n"},{"id":24624063,"name":"Potholderz","trackName":"Potholderz","artistName":"MF Doom, MF Grimm","albumName":"Best of Mf","duration":200.672653,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.95] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.44] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.45] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.17] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.87] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.84] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.77] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.47] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.28] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.13] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.54] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.08] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.12] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.87] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.02] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.56] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.20] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.17] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.93] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.26] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.37] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.72] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.89] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.63] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.72] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.87] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.82] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.23] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.04] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.93] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.89] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.59] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.69] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.46] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.36] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.83] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.24] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.64] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.72] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.37] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.28] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.80] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.64] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.30] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.17] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.26] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.57] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.68] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.93] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.00] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.33] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.61] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.82] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.53] (More hot-)\n[02:38.14] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.24] (More hot shit)\n[02:43.87] \n[03:18.81] (A short time later)\n[03:19.44] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz\n artist: MF Doom, MF Grimm\n album: Best of Mf\n duration_ms: 200673\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 950\n end_ms: 6440\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6440\n end_ms: 11450\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11450\n end_ms: 17170\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17170\n end_ms: 19870\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19870\n end_ms: 21840\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21840\n end_ms: 24770\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24770\n end_ms: 27470\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27470\n end_ms: 30280\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30280\n end_ms: 33130\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33130\n end_ms: 37540\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37540\n end_ms: 38080\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38080\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44120\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44120\n end_ms: 46870\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46870\n end_ms: 50020\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50020\n end_ms: 52560\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52560\n end_ms: 55200\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55200\n end_ms: 58170\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58170\n end_ms: 60930\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60930\n end_ms: 63260\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63260\n end_ms: 66370\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66370\n end_ms: 68720\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68720\n end_ms: 71890\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71890\n end_ms: 74630\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74630\n end_ms: 77720\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77720\n end_ms: 79870\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79870\n end_ms: 82820\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82820\n end_ms: 85230\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85230\n end_ms: 88040\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88040\n end_ms: 90930\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90930\n end_ms: 93890\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93890\n end_ms: 96590\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96590\n end_ms: 98690\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98690\n end_ms: 101460\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101460\n end_ms: 104360\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104360\n end_ms: 106830\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106830\n end_ms: 110240\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110240\n end_ms: 112640\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112640\n end_ms: 115720\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115720\n end_ms: 118370\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118370\n end_ms: 121280\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121280\n end_ms: 123800\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123800\n end_ms: 126640\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126640\n end_ms: 130300\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130300\n end_ms: 132170\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132170\n end_ms: 135260\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135260\n end_ms: 137570\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137570\n end_ms: 140680\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140680\n end_ms: 142930\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142930\n end_ms: 146000\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146000\n end_ms: 148330\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148330\n end_ms: 150610\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150610\n end_ms: 152820\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152820\n end_ms: 155530\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155530\n end_ms: 158140\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158140\n end_ms: 161240\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161240\n end_ms: 163870\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 163870\n end_ms: 198810\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198810\n end_ms: 199440\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 199440\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":9001082,"name":"Potholderz (Exclusive)","trackName":"Potholderz (Exclusive)","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"Best of MF","duration":201.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.94] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.44] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.49] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.19] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.85] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.84] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.71] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.43] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.26] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.15] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.56] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.00] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.10] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.89] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.06] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.58] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.27] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.12] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.92] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.27] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.37] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.75] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.86] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.61] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.76] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.88] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.86] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.25] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.03] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.94] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.80] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.58] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.64] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.49] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.33] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.88] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.21] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.66] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.75] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.36] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.22] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.85] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.63] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.32] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.14] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.20] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.50] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.62] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.92] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.03] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.39] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.69] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.87] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.55] (More hot-)\n[02:38.10] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.23] (More hot shit)\n[02:42.83] \n[03:18.84] (A short time later)\n[03:20.17] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz (Exclusive)\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: Best of MF\n duration_ms: 201000\n instrumental: false\n language: en\nlines:\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19970\n end_ms: 22030\n words:\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 19970\n - text: 'strive '\n start_ms: 20170\n - text: 'to '\n start_ms: 20430\n - text: 'be '\n start_ms: 20550\n - text: 'humble, '\n start_ms: 20690\n - text: 'lest '\n start_ms: 21210\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 21490\n - text: stumble\n start_ms: 21670\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or cop chick through a mumble\n start_ms: 22050\n end_ms: 24840\n words:\n - text: 'Never '\n start_ms: 22050\n - text: 'sold '\n start_ms: 22536\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 22769\n - text: 'jumbo '\n start_ms: 22905\n - text: 'or '\n start_ms: 23294\n - text: 'cop '\n start_ms: 23450\n - text: 'chick '\n start_ms: 23644\n - text: 'through '\n start_ms: 23839\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 23994\n - text: mumble\n start_ms: 24422\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a foul holocaust\n start_ms: 24840\n end_ms: 27610\n words:\n - text: 'Sauce, '\n start_ms: 24840\n - text: 'Tyson '\n start_ms: 25614\n - text: 'is '\n start_ms: 25992\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 26151\n - text: 'foul '\n start_ms: 26290\n - text: holocaust\n start_ms: 26587\n- text: Hitler gash your whole head up with poetry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27610\n end_ms: 30420\n words:\n - text: 'Hitler '\n start_ms: 27610\n - text: 'gash '\n start_ms: 27990\n - text: 'your '\n start_ms: 28210\n - text: 'whole '\n start_ms: 28330\n - text: 'head '\n start_ms: 28510\n - text: 'up '\n start_ms: 28730\n - text: 'with '\n start_ms: 28870\n - text: 'poetry, '\n start_ms: 29130\n - text: 'I''m '\n start_ms: 29610\n - text: 'fed '\n start_ms: 29830\n - text: up\n start_ms: 30050\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30450\n end_ms: 33100\n words:\n - text: 'Ignore '\n start_ms: 30450\n - text: 'cordon '\n start_ms: 30941\n - text: 'bleu, '\n start_ms: 31314\n - text: 'stand '\n start_ms: 31942\n - text: 'up, '\n start_ms: 32236\n - text: 'get '\n start_ms: 32472\n - text: up\n start_ms: 32707\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholders\n start_ms: 33100\n end_ms: 38060\n words:\n - text: 'Lunge '\n start_ms: 33100\n - text: 'for '\n start_ms: 33460\n - text: 'your '\n start_ms: 33620\n - text: 'knife, '\n start_ms: 33760\n - text: 'don''t '\n start_ms: 34540\n - text: 'forget '\n start_ms: 34720\n - text: 'your '\n start_ms: 35020\n - text: potholders\n start_ms: 35200\n- text: What, these old things? 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'\n start_ms: 39480\n - text: 'About '\n start_ms: 40120\n - text: 'to '\n start_ms: 40380\n - text: 'throw '\n start_ms: 40500\n - text: '''em '\n start_ms: 40680\n - text: away\n start_ms: 40860\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41460\n end_ms: 44480\n words:\n - text: 'With '\n start_ms: 41460\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 41699\n - text: 'gold '\n start_ms: 41859\n - text: 'rings '\n start_ms: 42158\n - text: 'that '\n start_ms: 42437\n - text: 'make '\n start_ms: 42596\n - text: '''em '\n start_ms: 42776\n - text: 'don''t '\n start_ms: 42955\n - text: 'fit '\n start_ms: 43234\n - text: 'like '\n start_ms: 43414\n - text: OJ\n start_ms: 43653\n- text: Usually I take 'em off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44480\n end_ms: 47540\n words:\n - text: 'Usually '\n start_ms: 44480\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 45078\n - text: 'take '\n start_ms: 45198\n - text: '''em '\n start_ms: 45377\n - text: 'off '\n start_ms: 45596\n - text: 'with '\n start_ms: 45796\n - text: 'Oil '\n start_ms: 45975\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 46214\n - text: Olay\n start_ms: 46374\n- text: MCs is crabs in the barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 47540\n end_ms: 50060\n words:\n - text: 'MCs '\n start_ms: 47540\n - text: 'is '\n start_ms: 47580\n - text: 'crabs '\n start_ms: 47760\n - text: 'in '\n start_ms: 48100\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 48220\n - text: 'barrel, '\n start_ms: 48360\n - text: 'pass '\n start_ms: 48760\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 49040\n - text: 'Old '\n start_ms: 49200\n - text: Bay\n start_ms: 49460\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50080\n end_ms: 52520\n words:\n - text: 'Hot '\n start_ms: 50080\n - text: 'as '\n start_ms: 50352\n - text: 'hell '\n start_ms: 50527\n - text: 'and '\n start_ms: 50702\n - text: 'it''s '\n start_ms: 50838\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 51013\n - text: 'cold '\n start_ms: 51149\n - text: 'day, '\n start_ms: 51577\n - text: innit?\n start_ms: 51927\n- text: Working on a way that we could roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52520\n end_ms: 55230\n words:\n - text: 'Working '\n start_ms: 52520\n - text: 'on '\n start_ms: 52960\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 53120\n - text: 'way '\n start_ms: 53220\n - text: 'that '\n start_ms: 53400\n - text: 'we '\n start_ms: 53580\n - text: 'could '\n start_ms: 53720\n - text: 'roll '\n start_ms: 53900\n - text: 'away '\n start_ms: 54160\n - text: tinted\n start_ms: 54560\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55250\n end_ms: 57950\n words:\n - text: 'Some '\n start_ms: 55250\n - text: 'say '\n start_ms: 55630\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 55810\n - text: 'price '\n start_ms: 55950\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 56230\n - text: 'holding '\n start_ms: 56330\n - text: 'heat '\n start_ms: 56710\n - text: 'is '\n start_ms: 56910\n - text: 'often '\n start_ms: 57070\n - text: 'too '\n start_ms: 57470\n - text: high\n start_ms: 57730\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 57960\n end_ms: 61210\n words:\n - text: 'You '\n start_ms: 57960\n - text: 'either '\n start_ms: 58258\n - 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text: 'comes '\n start_ms: 64841\n - text: 'down '\n start_ms: 65119\n - text: 'to '\n start_ms: 65377\n - text: 'you '\n start_ms: 65576\n - text: 'and '\n start_ms: 65715\n - text: I\n start_ms: 65933\n- text: Swear to God, a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66350\n end_ms: 68930\n words:\n - text: 'Swear '\n start_ms: 66350\n - text: 'to '\n start_ms: 66690\n - text: 'God, '\n start_ms: 66870\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 67150\n - text: 'lot '\n start_ms: 67230\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 67430\n - text: 'niggas '\n start_ms: 67550\n - text: 'wish '\n start_ms: 67870\n - text: 'to '\n start_ms: 68090\n - text: die\n start_ms: 68270\n- text: You need to hold your horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68940\n end_ms: 71880\n words:\n - text: 'You '\n start_ms: 68940\n - text: 'need '\n start_ms: 69040\n - text: 'to '\n start_ms: 69240\n - text: 'hold '\n start_ms: 69360\n - text: 'your '\n start_ms: 69560\n - text: 'horses, '\n start_ms: 69680\n - text: 'there''s '\n start_ms: 70240\n - 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text: 'your '\n start_ms: 76430\n - text: 'bumba '\n start_ms: 76610\n - text: clot\n start_ms: 76950\n- text: I coulda had a V8\n start_ms: 78590\n end_ms: 80020\n words:\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 78590\n - text: 'coulda '\n start_ms: 78741\n - text: 'had '\n start_ms: 78985\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 79154\n - text: V8\n start_ms: 79286\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I be straight\n start_ms: 80020\n end_ms: 82780\n words:\n - text: F-\n start_ms: 80020\n - text: '150 '\n start_ms: 80400\n - text: 'quad '\n start_ms: 80900\n - text: 'cab '\n start_ms: 81300\n - text: 'but '\n start_ms: 81620\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 81800\n - text: 'be '\n start_ms: 81940\n - text: straight\n start_ms: 82220\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two-bit hussy\n start_ms: 82840\n end_ms: 85220\n words:\n - text: 'Money '\n start_ms: 82840\n - text: 'comes '\n start_ms: 83160\n - text: 'and '\n start_ms: 83360\n - text: 'goes '\n start_ms: 83520\n - text: 'like '\n start_ms: 83840\n - text: 'that '\n start_ms: 84060\n - text: two-\n start_ms: 84300\n - text: 'bit '\n start_ms: 84580\n - text: hussy\n start_ms: 84960\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85280\n end_ms: 88250\n words:\n - text: 'That '\n start_ms: 85280\n - text: 'night '\n start_ms: 85597\n - text: 'that '\n start_ms: 85775\n - text: 'tried '\n start_ms: 85933\n - text: 'to '\n start_ms: 86112\n - text: 'rush '\n start_ms: 86250\n - text: 'me, '\n start_ms: 86527\n - text: 'Dwight '\n start_ms: 86983\n - text: 'pass '\n start_ms: 87300\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 87537\n - text: dutchie\n start_ms: 87696\n- text: So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88250\n end_ms: 90930\n words:\n - text: 'So '\n start_ms: 88250\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 88522\n - text: 'can '\n start_ms: 88619\n - text: 'calm '\n start_ms: 88774\n - text: 'down '\n start_ms: 89124\n - text: 'so '\n start_ms: 89396\n - text: 'they '\n start_ms: 89512\n - text: 'don''t '\n start_ms: 89668\n - text: 'get '\n start_ms: 89920\n - text: 'it '\n start_ms: 90076\n - text: twisted\n start_ms: 90231\n- text: Take it from the fireside and won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90930\n end_ms: 94020\n words:\n - text: 'Take '\n start_ms: 90930\n - text: 'it '\n start_ms: 91190\n - text: 'from '\n start_ms: 91310\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 91510\n - text: 'fireside '\n start_ms: 91670\n - text: 'and '\n start_ms: 92310\n - text: 'won''t '\n start_ms: 92450\n - text: 'get '\n start_ms: 92750\n - text: blistered\n start_ms: 93050\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 94030\n end_ms: 96500\n words:\n - text: 'Got '\n start_ms: 94030\n - text: 'it, '\n start_ms: 94310\n - text: 'what '\n start_ms: 94710\n - text: 'happened? '\n start_ms: 94850\n - text: 'Oh, '\n start_ms: 95310\n - text: 'it''s '\n start_ms: 95530\n - text: 'not '\n start_ms: 95730\n - text: lit\n start_ms: 96010\n- text: These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n start_ms: 96580\n end_ms: 98750\n words:\n - text: 'These '\n start_ms: 96580\n - text: 'metal '\n start_ms: 96932\n - text: 'fingers '\n start_ms: 97264\n - text: 'be '\n start_ms: 97616\n - text: 'holding '\n start_ms: 97773\n - text: 'hot '\n start_ms: 98164\n - text: shit\n start_ms: 98457\n- text: When I was four, Penn Guard was born in New York\n start_ms: 98750\n end_ms: 101640\n words:\n - text: 'When '\n start_ms: 98750\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 98950\n - text: 'was '\n start_ms: 99030\n - text: 'four, '\n start_ms: 99290\n - text: 'Penn '\n start_ms: 99690\n - text: 'Guard '\n start_ms: 99970\n - text: 'was '\n start_ms: 100350\n - text: 'born '\n start_ms: 100630\n - text: 'in '\n start_ms: 100830\n - text: 'New '\n start_ms: 100930\n - text: York\n start_ms: 101110\n- text: Back in '77, still got Nan in a crescent\n start_ms: 101650\n end_ms: 104340\n words:\n - text: 'Back '\n start_ms: 101650\n - text: 'in '\n start_ms: 101850\n - text: '''77, '\n start_ms: 101990\n - text: 'still '\n start_ms: 103030\n - text: 'got '\n start_ms: 103210\n - text: 'Nan '\n start_ms: 103450\n - text: 'in '\n start_ms: 103750\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 103850\n - text: crescent\n start_ms: 104010\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104370\n end_ms: 106820\n words:\n - text: 'The '\n start_ms: 104370\n - text: 'effervescence '\n start_ms: 104609\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 105306\n - text: 'God''s '\n start_ms: 105485\n - text: 'presence '\n start_ms: 105824\n - text: 'is '\n start_ms: 106183\n - text: thick\n start_ms: 106442\n- text: Unlike vapor, esterol, extra roll, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106820\n end_ms: 110410\n words:\n - text: 'Unlike '\n start_ms: 106820\n - text: 'vapor, '\n start_ms: 107330\n - text: 'esterol, '\n start_ms: 107879\n - text: 'extra '\n start_ms: 108546\n - text: 'roll, '\n start_ms: 108939\n - text: 'word '\n start_ms: 109253\n - text: 'to '\n start_ms: 109527\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 109684\n - text: baker\n start_ms: 109841\n- text: Peace to the hard-working gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110410\n end_ms: 112860\n words:\n - text: 'Peace '\n start_ms: 110410\n - text: 'to '\n start_ms: 110610\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 110770\n - text: hard-\n start_ms: 110930\n - text: 'working '\n start_ms: 111230\n - text: 'gingerbread '\n start_ms: 111590\n - text: makers\n start_ms: 112250\n- text: Looked her up and down, said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112910\n end_ms: 115840\n words:\n - text: 'Looked '\n start_ms: 112910\n - text: 'her '\n start_ms: 113227\n - text: 'up '\n start_ms: 113365\n - text: 'and '\n start_ms: 113524\n - text: 'down, '\n start_ms: 113702\n - text: 'said, '\n start_ms: 114078\n - text: '\"Hmm, '\n start_ms: 114375\n - text: 'too '\n start_ms: 114712\n - text: 'much '\n start_ms: 114850\n - text: makeup\"\n start_ms: 115127\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115840\n end_ms: 118400\n words:\n - text: 'Poor '\n start_ms: 115840\n - text: 'music '\n start_ms: 116080\n - text: 'taste, '\n start_ms: 116480\n - text: 'ten '\n start_ms: 116800\n - text: 'years '\n start_ms: 116980\n - text: 'from '\n start_ms: 117260\n - text: 'being '\n start_ms: 117440\n - text: 'grown '\n start_ms: 117780\n - text: up\n start_ms: 118080\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 118460\n end_ms: 121420\n words:\n - text: 'Rappers '\n start_ms: 118460\n - text: 'don''t '\n start_ms: 118945\n - text: 'blow '\n start_ms: 119198\n - text: 'up, '\n start_ms: 119508\n - text: 'heads '\n start_ms: 119702\n - text: 'do '\n start_ms: 120013\n - text: '(Hot '\n start_ms: 120226\n - text: shit)\n start_ms: 120867\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a sonic addict\n start_ms: 121420\n end_ms: 123850\n words:\n - text: 'My '\n start_ms: 121420\n - text: 'name '\n start_ms: 121520\n - text: 'is '\n start_ms: 121720\n - text: 'Dwight '\n start_ms: 121880\n - text: 'Spitz, '\n start_ms: 122180\n - text: 'I''m '\n start_ms: 122640\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 122800\n - text: 'sonic '\n start_ms: 122960\n - text: addict\n start_ms: 123420\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123920\n end_ms: 126730\n words:\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 123920\n - text: 'used '\n start_ms: 124119\n - text: 'to '\n start_ms: 124258\n - text: 'think '\n start_ms: 124397\n - text: 'it '\n start_ms: 124575\n - text: 'was '\n start_ms: 124694\n - text: 'merely '\n start_ms: 124893\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 125251\n - text: 'nagging '\n start_ms: 125390\n - text: habit\n start_ms: 125807\n- text: Born under a bad sign\n start_ms: 126730\n end_ms: 128610\n words:\n - text: 'Born '\n start_ms: 126730\n - text: 'under '\n start_ms: 127148\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 127446\n - text: 'bad '\n start_ms: 127625\n - text: sign\n start_ms: 128003\n- text: I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 128610\n end_ms: 130390\n words:\n - text: 'I''m '\n start_ms: 128610\n - text: 'serious '\n start_ms: 128870\n - text: 'about '\n start_ms: 129210\n - text: 'this '\n start_ms: 129470\n - text: 'curse '\n start_ms: 129670\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 129950\n - text: mine\n start_ms: 130150\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130470\n end_ms: 132220\n words:\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 130470\n - text: 'strive '\n start_ms: 130640\n - text: 'to '\n start_ms: 130886\n - text: 'flip '\n start_ms: 131019\n - text: 'it '\n start_ms: 131208\n - text: 'into '\n start_ms: 131321\n - text: 'fine '\n start_ms: 131586\n - text: wine\n start_ms: 131946\n- text: Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n start_ms: 132220\n end_ms: 135220\n words:\n - text: 'Barely '\n start_ms: 132220\n - text: 'born '\n start_ms: 132560\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 132780\n - text: 'virgin '\n start_ms: 132920\n - text: 'is '\n start_ms: 133280\n - text: 'what '\n start_ms: 133480\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 133740\n - text: 'stars '\n start_ms: 133960\n - text: said\n start_ms: 134420\n- text: Black, not white, red all over though like Elmo\n start_ms: 135230\n end_ms: 137820\n words:\n - text: 'Black, '\n start_ms: 135230\n - text: 'not '\n start_ms: 135570\n - text: 'white, '\n start_ms: 135790\n - text: 'red '\n start_ms: 136070\n - text: 'all '\n start_ms: 136230\n - text: 'over '\n start_ms: 136430\n - text: 'though '\n start_ms: 136690\n - text: 'like '\n start_ms: 136870\n - text: Elmo\n start_ms: 137130\n- text: Twenty-eight years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137830\n end_ms: 140790\n words:\n - text: Twenty-\n start_ms: 137830\n - text: 'eight '\n start_ms: 138170\n - text: 'years '\n start_ms: 138450\n - text: 'have '\n start_ms: 138750\n - text: 'passed, '\n start_ms: 139010\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 139390\n - text: 'feel '\n start_ms: 139510\n - text: 'I''m '\n start_ms: 139710\n - text: peaking\n start_ms: 139910\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140880\n end_ms: 142960\n words:\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 140880\n - text: 'make '\n start_ms: 141091\n - text: 'music '\n start_ms: 141321\n - text: 'every '\n start_ms: 141666\n - text: weekend\n start_ms: 141992\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life\n start_ms: 142960\n end_ms: 145210\n words:\n - text: 'It''s '\n start_ms: 142960\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 143140\n - text: 'chore, '\n start_ms: 143320\n - text: 'a '\n start_ms: 143860\n - text: 'fact '\n start_ms: 144040\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 144340\n - text: life\n start_ms: 144500\n- text: A labor of love, I get mad love but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 145300\n end_ms: 148350\n words:\n - text: 'A '\n start_ms: 145300\n - text: 'labor '\n start_ms: 145454\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 145763\n - text: 'love, '\n start_ms: 145956\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 146304\n - text: 'get '\n start_ms: 146400\n - text: 'mad '\n start_ms: 146574\n - text: 'love '\n start_ms: 146806\n - text: 'but '\n start_ms: 146979\n - text: 'I '\n start_ms: 147172\n - text: 'detest '\n start_ms: 147250\n - text: 'the '\n start_ms: 147752\n - text: labor\n start_ms: 147887\n- text: And its wages, you know def\n start_ms: 148350\n end_ms: 150590\n words:\n - text: 'And '\n start_ms: 148350\n - text: 'its '\n start_ms: 148590\n - text: 'wages, '\n start_ms: 148830\n - text: 'you '\n start_ms: 149650\n - text: 'know '\n start_ms: 149750\n - text: def\n start_ms: 149990\n- text: I'm serving life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150690\n end_ms: 152980\n words:\n - text: 'I''m '\n start_ms: 150690\n - text: 'serving '\n start_ms: 150990\n - text: 'life '\n start_ms: 151350\n - text: 'from '\n start_ms: 151570\n - text: 'this '\n start_ms: 151710\n - text: 'gift '\n start_ms: 151910\n - text: 'of '\n start_ms: 152150\n - text: God\n start_ms: 152350\n- text: Don't forget your potholders, my niggas\n start_ms: 152980\n end_ms: 154990\n words:\n - text: 'Don''t '\n start_ms: 152980\n - text: 'forget '\n start_ms: 153240\n - text: 'your '\n start_ms: 153540\n - text: 'potholders, '\n start_ms: 153780\n - text: 'my '\n start_ms: 154480\n - text: niggas\n start_ms: 154680\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":27670743,"name":"Potholderz (Exclusive)","trackName":"Potholderz (Exclusive)","artistName":"MF DOOM","albumName":"Best of MF","duration":206.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit\nHot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\nHot shit (aww shit)\n\nI strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\nSauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\nHitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n(Hot shit)\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\nUsually I take them off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\nWorking on a way that we can roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\nThe one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\n(Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\nThey need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\nI coulda had a V-8\nF-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\nMoney comes and goes like that two bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\nWhen I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\nBack in '77, still got nan in the crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\nPeace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\nLooked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\n\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\nBlack not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\nI get mad love, but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know, death?\nI'm servin' life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n(More hot-)\n(More hot shit)\n(More hot shit)\n\n(A short time later)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.94] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:06.44] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n[00:11.49] Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:17.19] Hot shit (aww shit)\n[00:19.85] I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n[00:21.84] Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n[00:24.71] Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n[00:27.43] Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n[00:30.26] Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n[00:33.15] Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n[00:37.56] (Hot shit)\n[00:38.00] What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n[00:41.26] With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n[00:44.10] Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n[00:46.89] MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n[00:50.06] Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n[00:52.58] Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n[00:55.27] Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n[00:58.12] You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n[01:00.92] The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n[01:03.27] Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n[01:06.37] (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n[01:08.75] They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n[01:11.86] You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n[01:14.61] Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n[01:17.76] I coulda had a V-8\n[01:19.88] F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n[01:22.86] Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n[01:25.25] That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n[01:28.03] So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n[01:30.94] Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n[01:33.80] Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n[01:36.58] These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n[01:38.64] When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n[01:41.49] Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n[01:44.33] The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n[01:46.88] Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n[01:50.21] Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n[01:52.66] Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n[01:55.75] Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n[01:58.36] Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n[02:01.22] My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n[02:03.85] I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n[02:06.63] Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n[02:10.32] I strive to flip it into fine wine\n[02:12.14] \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n[02:15.20] Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n[02:17.50] 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n[02:20.62] I make music every weekend\n[02:22.92] It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n[02:26.03] I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n[02:28.39] And its wages, you know, death?\n[02:30.69] I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n[02:32.87] Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n[02:35.55] (More hot-)\n[02:38.10] (More hot shit)\n[02:41.23] (More hot shit)\n[02:42.83] \n[03:18.84] (A short time later)\n[03:20.17] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz (Exclusive)\n artist: MF DOOM\n album: Best of MF\n duration_ms: 206000\n instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 940\n end_ms: 6440\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n start_ms: 6440\n end_ms: 11490\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 11490\n end_ms: 17190\n- text: Hot shit (aww shit)\n start_ms: 17190\n end_ms: 19850\n- text: I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n start_ms: 19850\n end_ms: 21840\n- text: Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n start_ms: 21840\n end_ms: 24710\n- text: Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n start_ms: 24710\n end_ms: 27430\n- text: Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n start_ms: 27430\n end_ms: 30260\n- text: Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n start_ms: 30260\n end_ms: 33150\n- text: Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n start_ms: 33150\n end_ms: 37560\n- text: (Hot shit)\n start_ms: 37560\n end_ms: 38000\n- text: What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n start_ms: 38000\n end_ms: 41260\n- text: With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n start_ms: 41260\n end_ms: 44100\n- text: Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n start_ms: 44100\n end_ms: 46890\n- text: MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n start_ms: 46890\n end_ms: 50060\n- text: Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n start_ms: 50060\n end_ms: 52580\n- text: Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n start_ms: 52580\n end_ms: 55270\n- text: Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n start_ms: 55270\n end_ms: 58120\n- text: You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n start_ms: 58120\n end_ms: 60920\n- text: The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n start_ms: 60920\n end_ms: 63270\n- text: Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n start_ms: 63270\n end_ms: 66370\n- text: (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n start_ms: 66370\n end_ms: 68750\n- text: They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n start_ms: 68750\n end_ms: 71860\n- text: You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n start_ms: 71860\n end_ms: 74610\n- text: Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n start_ms: 74610\n end_ms: 77760\n- text: I coulda had a V-8\n start_ms: 77760\n end_ms: 79880\n- text: F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n start_ms: 79880\n end_ms: 82860\n- text: Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n start_ms: 82860\n end_ms: 85250\n- text: That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n start_ms: 85250\n end_ms: 88030\n- text: So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n start_ms: 88030\n end_ms: 90940\n- text: Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n start_ms: 90940\n end_ms: 93800\n- text: Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n start_ms: 93800\n end_ms: 96580\n- text: These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n start_ms: 96580\n end_ms: 98640\n- text: When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n start_ms: 98640\n end_ms: 101490\n- text: Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n start_ms: 101490\n end_ms: 104330\n- text: The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n start_ms: 104330\n end_ms: 106880\n- text: Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n start_ms: 106880\n end_ms: 110210\n- text: Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n start_ms: 110210\n end_ms: 112660\n- text: Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n start_ms: 112660\n end_ms: 115750\n- text: Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n start_ms: 115750\n end_ms: 118360\n- text: Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n start_ms: 118360\n end_ms: 121220\n- text: My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n start_ms: 121220\n end_ms: 123850\n- text: I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n start_ms: 123850\n end_ms: 126630\n- text: Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n start_ms: 126630\n end_ms: 130320\n- text: I strive to flip it into fine wine\n start_ms: 130320\n end_ms: 132140\n- text: '\"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said'\n start_ms: 132140\n end_ms: 135200\n- text: Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n start_ms: 135200\n end_ms: 137500\n- text: 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n start_ms: 137500\n end_ms: 140620\n- text: I make music every weekend\n start_ms: 140620\n end_ms: 142920\n- text: It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n start_ms: 142920\n end_ms: 146030\n- text: I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n start_ms: 146030\n end_ms: 148390\n- text: And its wages, you know, death?\n start_ms: 148390\n end_ms: 150690\n- text: I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n start_ms: 150690\n end_ms: 152870\n- text: Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n start_ms: 152870\n end_ms: 155550\n- text: (More hot-)\n start_ms: 155550\n end_ms: 158100\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 158100\n end_ms: 161230\n- text: (More hot shit)\n start_ms: 161230\n end_ms: 162830\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 162830\n end_ms: 198840\n- text: (A short time later)\n start_ms: 198840\n end_ms: 200170\n- text: ''\n start_ms: 200170\nplain: |-\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit\n Hot shit (aww shit), hot shit (aww shit)\n Hot shit (aww shit)\n\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or copped chicken with its mumbo\n Sauce, Tyson is a fowl holocaust\n Hitler gassed your whole head up with poultry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholderz\n (Hot shit)\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n Usually I take them off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in a barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n Working on a way that we can roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n\n The one that's too fly to eat shoo pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n (Swear to God) a lot of niggas wish to die\n They need to hold they horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba claat\n I coulda had a V-8\n F-150 quad cab but I'll be straight\n\n Money comes and goes like that two bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight, pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down, so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside, it won't get blistered\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding (hot shit)\n\n When I was four, I penned \"God Was Born In New York\"\n Back in '77, still got nan in the crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, Esther Rolle, extra raw, word to the baker\n Peace to the hardworkin' gingerbread makers\n Looked her up and down; said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (aww, shit)\n\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a Sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign, I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n \"Barely born a virgin,\" is what the stars said\n Black not white, red all over, though, like Elmo\n 28 years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life, a labor of love\n I get mad love, but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know, death?\n I'm servin' life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholderz, my niggas\n\n (More hot-)\n (More hot shit)\n (More hot shit)\n\n (A short time later)\n"},{"id":32737315,"name":"Potholderz","trackName":"Potholderz","artistName":"Count Bass D, MF DOOM, MF Grimm","albumName":"Best of Mf","duration":200.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\nNever sold a jumbo or cop chick through a mumble\nSauce, Tyson is a foul holocaust\nHitler gash your whole head up with poetry, I'm fed up\nIgnore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\nLunge for your knife, don't forget your potholders\n\nWhat, these old things? About to throw 'em away\nWith the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n\nUsually I take 'em off with Oil of Olay\nMCs is crabs in the barrel, pass the Old Bay\nHot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n\nWorking on a way that we could roll away tinted\nSome say the price of holding heat is often too high\nYou either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\nThe one that's too fly to eat soup pie\nNever too busy when it comes down to you and I\nSwear to God, a lot of niggas wish to die\nYou need to hold your horses, there's bigger fish to fry\nYou're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\nTen and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba clot\n\nI coulda had a V8\nF-150 quad cab but I be straight\nMoney comes and goes like that two-bit hussy\nThat night that tried to rush me, Dwight pass the dutchie\nSo I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\nTake it from the fireside and won't get blistered\n\nGot it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\nThese metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\nWhen I was four, Penn Guard was born in New York\nBack in '77, still got Nan in a crescent\nThe effervescence of God's presence is thick\nUnlike vapor, esterol, extra roll, word to the baker\nPeace to the hard-working gingerbread makers\n\nLooked her up and down, said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\nPoor music taste, ten years from being grown up\nRappers don't blow up, heads do (Hot shit)\nMy name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a sonic addict\nI used to think it was merely a nagging habit\nBorn under a bad sign\nI'm serious about this curse of mine\nI strive to flip it into fine wine\nBarely born a virgin is what the stars said\n\nBlack, not white, red all over though like Elmo\nTwenty-eight years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n\nI make music every weekend\n\nIt's a chore, a fact of life\nA labor of love, I get mad love but I detest the labor\nAnd its wages, you know def\nI'm serving life from this gift of God\nDon't forget your potholders, my niggas","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n title: Potholderz\n artist: Count Bass D, MF DOOM, MF Grimm\n album: Best of Mf\n duration_ms: 200000\n instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n I strive to be humble, lest I stumble\n Never sold a jumbo or cop chick through a mumble\n Sauce, Tyson is a foul holocaust\n Hitler gash your whole head up with poetry, I'm fed up\n Ignore cordon bleu, stand up, get up\n Lunge for your knife, don't forget your potholders\n\n What, these old things? About to throw 'em away\n With the gold rings that make 'em don't fit like OJ\n\n Usually I take 'em off with Oil of Olay\n MCs is crabs in the barrel, pass the Old Bay\n Hot as hell and it's a cold day, innit?\n\n Working on a way that we could roll away tinted\n Some say the price of holding heat is often too high\n You either be in a coffin or you be the new guy\n The one that's too fly to eat soup pie\n Never too busy when it comes down to you and I\n Swear to God, a lot of niggas wish to die\n You need to hold your horses, there's bigger fish to fry\n You're on the list, if not, pick a number spot\n Ten and a half Timbs is made to kick your bumba clot\n\n I coulda had a V8\n F-150 quad cab but I be straight\n Money comes and goes like that two-bit hussy\n That night that tried to rush me, Dwight pass the dutchie\n So I can calm down so they don't get it twisted\n Take it from the fireside and won't get blistered\n\n Got it, what happened? Oh, it's not lit\n These metal fingers be holding hot shit\n\n When I was four, Penn Guard was born in New York\n Back in '77, still got Nan in a crescent\n The effervescence of God's presence is thick\n Unlike vapor, esterol, extra roll, word to the baker\n Peace to the hard-working gingerbread makers\n\n Looked her up and down, said, \"Hmm, too much makeup\"\n Poor music taste, ten years from being grown up\n Rappers don't blow up, heads do (Hot shit)\n My name is Dwight Spitz, I'm a sonic addict\n I used to think it was merely a nagging habit\n Born under a bad sign\n I'm serious about this curse of mine\n I strive to flip it into fine wine\n Barely born a virgin is what the stars said\n\n Black, not white, red all over though like Elmo\n Twenty-eight years have passed, I feel I'm peaking\n\n I make music every weekend\n\n It's a chore, a fact of life\n A labor of love, I get mad love but I detest the labor\n And its wages, you know def\n I'm serving life from this gift of God\n Don't forget your potholders, my niggas\n"}]