[{"id":31950838,"name":"ny minute","trackName":"ny minute","artistName":"jim jones stack bundles max b","albumName":"DJ Teknikz and DJ Diggz - Byrds Fly South","duration":225.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"You know, it's Jones, we only speak that way, man\nWhat's up, man?\nWe only gon' tell you what the fuck goes on in our city\nThe shit that we gotta go through to live this life of\nBeing rock stars, motherfucker\nRepresent this God's place, you dig?\n\nShit, so now I'm walking through the tombs\nSeven hours passed, but I'm out so soon\nDamn, it's something about full moons\nMake me cop cars, peel them out like prunes\nSeen pops leaning on the couch with the spoons\nMeanwhile, I was out and about with the goons\nTearing up the city, styling out in saloons\nWhips a buck sixty, price higher than the moon\n\nMotherfuck falling back, my niggas gon' try trouble\nWith the goonies, motherfucker, invading your triborough\nThought you had something with your candy cane gang\nI'll bang the ratchet, nigga, till my finger feels sprained\nAll this snitching going on, niggas fucking up the game\nCop a lot of Maserati, be walking in the lane\nAs for me, comrade, I'm still cooking up the 'caine\nOn the first of the month, nigga, drop and make it rain, motherfucker\n\nNigga, the dirt had my hands all in it\nEverybody around me guilty, the fam all in it\nThe Pyrex got them grams all in it\nAll them O's gotta come back, my plan's all in it\nThe next flip will get a nigga out of housing\nThe one after that will have me duPont browsing\nGorgeous gangster, they don't wanna see me styling\nGetting facial when the blicka blocka pound me\n\nYeah, I tell a bitch to come and get me, I'm still on the block\nDon't give a fuck about federales, I peel on the cop\nAnd get away in the mist, probably getting lip\nFrom a bitch in the passenger seat, nigga, I'm the shit\nYou ain't never seen a nigga no speeder than the boy\nSmack the cheddar out of your hand and eat it off the floor\nI be heated to the core, leaving off the tour\nMi amor, three and four, baby, is she a whore?\n\nI pop shit by the dozen (I back it up, though)\nCop Cris' by the buckets (Get twisted)\nI hit the dealer, cop whips out the luggage\nTwin hard top drops, always switching the colors\nCops wishing to cuff us\n'Cause we show our ass off so the bitches'll fuck us\nAnd all my niggas is thugging\nGetting drunk on the strip or I'm pimping in public\n\nI'm giving it up, I'm giving a fuck\nGot the blicka off my waist, now my shit ain't tucked, nigga\nI give a fuck about the pigs\nGive one, take one, I bleed for my nigs\nThat's just the way I was brought up\nAnd talking all brazy, homie, get your clique caught up\nWe gang banging, no gimmicks\nI'll give it to your ass in a New York minute\n\nI was rocking eight balls, y'all was copping eight balls\nCame up too fast, sorry, I can't relate y'all\nTry and wean out the hate y'all\nBut I hate y'all shit with a passion\nWhips, cop them and crash them\nCan't even imagine how aggy\nHands sticky from burning tips on the baggies\nNo license, I'm known to try and bag me\nFeeling like a Simpson, the Jag sitting on Maggie\n\nNigga, the snitching is getting ugly\nThey wonder how I do it, I tell them\nI only listen to niggas getting money\nEmpty a clip at your tummy, I know what you ate\nI was digging out your accountant, I know what you can't\nUnder 30 and hood rich, my own crib, mami\nShe cook and she clean, smack and stay home, she a good bitch\nYou rap niggas so sweet, so tender\nI could beat you in my sleep, no retreat, no surrender\n\nAnd you can catch this native New Yorker\nTearing down highways, 80 in a Porsche\nI mean I'm flying like a UFO saucer\nThey sure to take my license if the troopers would've caught you\n\nNow I'm dipping down side blocks\nGotta get low 'cause I gotta stash five shots\nI see a space and I'm on it\nI gotta get low, motherfucker, for always\n\nThe dice game's like Vegas, still trying my luck\nWhen it comes to pulling cards, you better watch who you pluck\nGracos with the lasers, when I fire, you duck\nGotta give you a set of wings so you can fly like us\n\nNiggas are kidnapping kids out of the school\nMa, take her marijuana and good perico is all I move\nYou don't want it with the blues, nigga, we quick to draw\nByrd Gang, they ain't think they predicted the call, holla","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.78] You know, it's Jones, we only speak that way, man\n[00:09.81] What's up, man?\n[00:10.84] We only gon' tell you what the fuck goes on in our city\n[00:13.22] The shit that we gotta go through to live this life of\n[00:16.21] Being rock stars, motherfucker\n[00:18.27] Represent this God's place, you dig?\n[00:21.26] Shit, so now I'm walking through the tombs\n[00:22.95] Seven hours passed, but I'm out so soon\n[00:25.31] Damn, it's something about full moons\n[00:28.27] Make me cop cars, peel them out like prunes\n[00:30.82] Seen pops leaning on the couch with the spoons\n[00:33.49] Meanwhile, I was out and about with the goons\n[00:35.93] Tearing up the city, styling out in saloons\n[00:38.22] Whips a buck sixty, price higher than the moon\n[00:40.98] Motherfuck falling back, my niggas gon' try trouble\n[00:43.29] With the goonies, motherfucker, invading your triborough\n[00:46.00] Thought you had something with your candy cane gang\n[00:48.31] I'll bang the ratchet, nigga, till my finger feels sprained\n[00:50.92] All this snitching going on, niggas fucking up the game\n[00:53.42] Cop a lot of Maserati, be walking in the lane\n[00:56.00] As for me, comrade, I'm still cooking up the 'caine\n[00:58.69] On the first of the month, nigga, drop and make it rain, motherfucker\n[01:01.56] Nigga, the dirt had my hands all in it\n[01:03.76] Everybody around me guilty, the fam all in it\n[01:06.64] The Pyrex got them grams all in it\n[01:08.81] All them O's gotta come back, my plan's all in it\n[01:11.77] The next flip will get a nigga out of housing\n[01:14.32] The one after that will have me duPont browsing\n[01:16.82] Gorgeous gangster, they don't wanna see me styling\n[01:19.34] Getting facial when the blicka blocka pound me\n[01:20.44] Yeah, I tell a bitch to come and get me, I'm still on the block\n[01:23.81] Don't give a fuck about federales, I peel on the cop\n[01:26.45] And get away in the mist, probably getting lip\n[01:28.98] From a bitch in the passenger seat, nigga, I'm the shit\n[01:31.63] You ain't never seen a nigga no speeder than the boy\n[01:34.16] Smack the cheddar out of your hand and eat it off the floor\n[01:36.85] I be heated to the core, leaving off the tour\n[01:39.39] Mi amor, three and four, baby, is she a whore?\n[01:43.02] I pop shit by the dozen (I back it up, though)\n[01:45.16] Cop Cris' by the buckets (Get twisted)\n[01:47.57] I hit the dealer, cop whips out the luggage\n[01:49.75] Twin hard top drops, always switching the colors\n[01:52.76] Cops wishing to cuff us\n[01:54.50] 'Cause we show our ass off so the bitches'll fuck us\n[01:57.67] And all my niggas is thugging\n[01:59.73] Getting drunk on the strip or I'm pimping in public\n[02:02.80] I'm giving it up, I'm giving a fuck\n[02:04.87] Got the blicka off my waist, now my shit ain't tucked, nigga\n[02:08.55] I give a fuck about the pigs\n[02:10.42] Give one, take one, I bleed for my nigs\n[02:13.60] That's just the way I was brought up\n[02:15.25] And talking all brazy, homie, get your clique caught up\n[02:18.71] We gang banging, no gimmicks\n[02:20.47] I'll give it to your ass in a New York minute\n[02:23.11] I was rocking eight balls, y'all was copping eight balls\n[02:25.76] Came up too fast, sorry, I can't relate y'all\n[02:28.08] Try and wean out the hate y'all\n[02:29.99] But I hate y'all shit with a passion\n[02:31.87] Whips, cop them and crash them\n[02:33.90] Can't even imagine how aggy\n[02:36.13] Hands sticky from burning tips on the baggies\n[02:38.71] No license, I'm known to try and bag me\n[02:40.92] Feeling like a Simpson, the Jag sitting on Maggie\n[02:43.28] Nigga, the snitching is getting ugly\n[02:44.60] They wonder how I do it, I tell them\n[02:46.25] I only listen to niggas getting money\n[02:48.25] Empty a clip at your tummy, I know what you ate\n[02:50.85] I was digging out your accountant, I know what you can't\n[02:53.25] Under 30 and hood rich, my own crib, mami\n[02:55.98] She cook and she clean, smack and stay home, she a good bitch\n[02:59.02] You rap niggas so sweet, so tender\n[03:01.12] I could beat you in my sleep, no retreat, no surrender\n[03:04.43] And you can catch this native New Yorker\n[03:06.58] Tearing down highways, 80 in a Porsche\n[03:09.23] I mean I'm flying like a UFO saucer\n[03:11.40] They sure to take my license if the troopers would've caught you\n[03:15.02] Now I'm dipping down side blocks\n[03:16.83] Gotta get low 'cause I gotta stash five shots\n[03:20.08] I see a space and I'm on it\n[03:21.77] I gotta get low, motherfucker, for always\n[03:24.25] The dice game's like Vegas, still trying my luck\n[03:26.79] When it comes to pulling cards, you better watch who you pluck\n[03:29.23] Gracos with the lasers, when I fire, you duck\n[03:31.67] Gotta give you a set of wings so you can fly like us\n[03:34.06] Niggas are kidnapping kids out of the school\n[03:36.45] Ma, take her marijuana and good perico is all I move\n[03:39.33] You don't want it with the blues, nigga, we quick to draw\n[03:41.95] Byrd Gang, they ain't think they predicted the call, holla\n[03:45.99] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: ny minute\n  artist: jim jones stack bundles max b\n  album: DJ Teknikz and DJ Diggz - Byrds Fly South\n  duration_ms: 225000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: You know, it's Jones, we only speak that way, man\n  start_ms: 1780\n  end_ms: 9810\n- text: What's up, man?\n  start_ms: 9810\n  end_ms: 10840\n- text: We only gon' tell you what the fuck goes on in our city\n  start_ms: 10840\n  end_ms: 13220\n- text: The shit that we gotta go through to live this life of\n  start_ms: 13220\n  end_ms: 16210\n- text: Being rock stars, motherfucker\n  start_ms: 16210\n  end_ms: 18270\n- text: Represent this God's place, you dig?\n  start_ms: 18270\n  end_ms: 21260\n- text: Shit, so now I'm walking through the tombs\n  start_ms: 21260\n  end_ms: 22950\n- text: Seven hours passed, but I'm out so soon\n  start_ms: 22950\n  end_ms: 25310\n- text: Damn, it's something about full moons\n  start_ms: 25310\n  end_ms: 28270\n- text: Make me cop cars, peel them out like prunes\n  start_ms: 28270\n  end_ms: 30820\n- text: Seen pops leaning on the couch with the spoons\n  start_ms: 30820\n  end_ms: 33490\n- text: Meanwhile, I was out and about with the goons\n  start_ms: 33490\n  end_ms: 35930\n- text: Tearing up the city, styling out in saloons\n  start_ms: 35930\n  end_ms: 38220\n- text: Whips a buck sixty, price higher than the moon\n  start_ms: 38220\n  end_ms: 40980\n- text: Motherfuck falling back, my niggas gon' try trouble\n  start_ms: 40980\n  end_ms: 43290\n- text: With the goonies, motherfucker, invading your triborough\n  start_ms: 43290\n  end_ms: 46000\n- text: Thought you had something with your candy cane gang\n  start_ms: 46000\n  end_ms: 48310\n- text: I'll bang the ratchet, nigga, till my finger feels sprained\n  start_ms: 48310\n  end_ms: 50920\n- text: All this snitching going on, niggas fucking up the game\n  start_ms: 50920\n  end_ms: 53420\n- text: Cop a lot of Maserati, be walking in the lane\n  start_ms: 53420\n  end_ms: 56000\n- text: As for me, comrade, I'm still cooking up the 'caine\n  start_ms: 56000\n  end_ms: 58690\n- text: On the first of the month, nigga, drop and make it rain, motherfucker\n  start_ms: 58690\n  end_ms: 61560\n- text: Nigga, the dirt had my hands all in it\n  start_ms: 61560\n  end_ms: 63760\n- text: Everybody around me guilty, the fam all in it\n  start_ms: 63760\n  end_ms: 66640\n- text: The Pyrex got them grams all in it\n  start_ms: 66640\n  end_ms: 68810\n- text: All them O's gotta come back, my plan's all in it\n  start_ms: 68810\n  end_ms: 71770\n- text: The next flip will get a nigga out of housing\n  start_ms: 71770\n  end_ms: 74320\n- text: The one after that will have me duPont browsing\n  start_ms: 74320\n  end_ms: 76820\n- text: Gorgeous gangster, they don't wanna see me styling\n  start_ms: 76820\n  end_ms: 79340\n- text: Getting facial when the blicka blocka pound me\n  start_ms: 79340\n  end_ms: 80440\n- text: Yeah, I tell a bitch to come and get me, I'm still on the block\n  start_ms: 80440\n  end_ms: 83810\n- text: Don't give a fuck about federales, I peel on the cop\n  start_ms: 83810\n  end_ms: 86450\n- text: And get away in the mist, probably getting lip\n  start_ms: 86450\n  end_ms: 88980\n- text: From a bitch in the passenger seat, nigga, I'm the shit\n  start_ms: 88980\n  end_ms: 91630\n- text: You ain't never seen a nigga no speeder than the boy\n  start_ms: 91630\n  end_ms: 94160\n- text: Smack the cheddar out of your hand and eat it off the floor\n  start_ms: 94160\n  end_ms: 96850\n- text: I be heated to the core, leaving off the tour\n  start_ms: 96850\n  end_ms: 99390\n- text: Mi amor, three and four, baby, is she a whore?\n  start_ms: 99390\n  end_ms: 103020\n- text: I pop shit by the dozen (I back it up, though)\n  start_ms: 103020\n  end_ms: 105160\n- text: Cop Cris' by the buckets (Get twisted)\n  start_ms: 105160\n  end_ms: 107570\n- text: I hit the dealer, cop whips out the luggage\n  start_ms: 107570\n  end_ms: 109750\n- text: Twin hard top drops, always switching the colors\n  start_ms: 109750\n  end_ms: 112760\n- text: Cops wishing to cuff us\n  start_ms: 112760\n  end_ms: 114500\n- text: '''Cause we show our ass off so the bitches''ll fuck us'\n  start_ms: 114500\n  end_ms: 117670\n- text: And all my niggas is thugging\n  start_ms: 117670\n  end_ms: 119730\n- text: Getting drunk on the strip or I'm pimping in public\n  start_ms: 119730\n  end_ms: 122800\n- text: I'm giving it up, I'm giving a fuck\n  start_ms: 122800\n  end_ms: 124870\n- text: Got the blicka off my waist, now my shit ain't tucked, nigga\n  start_ms: 124870\n  end_ms: 128550\n- text: I give a fuck about the pigs\n  start_ms: 128550\n  end_ms: 130420\n- text: Give one, take one, I bleed for my nigs\n  start_ms: 130420\n  end_ms: 133600\n- text: That's just the way I was brought up\n  start_ms: 133600\n  end_ms: 135250\n- text: And talking all brazy, homie, get your clique caught up\n  start_ms: 135250\n  end_ms: 138710\n- text: We gang banging, no gimmicks\n  start_ms: 138710\n  end_ms: 140470\n- text: I'll give it to your ass in a New York minute\n  start_ms: 140470\n  end_ms: 143110\n- text: I was rocking eight balls, y'all was copping eight balls\n  start_ms: 143110\n  end_ms: 145760\n- text: Came up too fast, sorry, I can't relate y'all\n  start_ms: 145760\n  end_ms: 148080\n- text: Try and wean out the hate y'all\n  start_ms: 148080\n  end_ms: 149990\n- text: But I hate y'all shit with a passion\n  start_ms: 149990\n  end_ms: 151870\n- text: Whips, cop them and crash them\n  start_ms: 151870\n  end_ms: 153900\n- text: Can't even imagine how aggy\n  start_ms: 153900\n  end_ms: 156130\n- text: Hands sticky from burning tips on the baggies\n  start_ms: 156130\n  end_ms: 158710\n- text: No license, I'm known to try and bag me\n  start_ms: 158710\n  end_ms: 160920\n- text: Feeling like a Simpson, the Jag sitting on Maggie\n  start_ms: 160920\n  end_ms: 163280\n- text: Nigga, the snitching is getting ugly\n  start_ms: 163280\n  end_ms: 164600\n- text: They wonder how I do it, I tell them\n  start_ms: 164600\n  end_ms: 166250\n- text: I only listen to niggas getting money\n  start_ms: 166250\n  end_ms: 168250\n- text: Empty a clip at your tummy, I know what you ate\n  start_ms: 168250\n  end_ms: 170850\n- text: I was digging out your accountant, I know what you can't\n  start_ms: 170850\n  end_ms: 173250\n- text: Under 30 and hood rich, my own crib, mami\n  start_ms: 173250\n  end_ms: 175980\n- text: She cook and she clean, smack and stay home, she a good bitch\n  start_ms: 175980\n  end_ms: 179020\n- text: You rap niggas so sweet, so tender\n  start_ms: 179020\n  end_ms: 181120\n- text: I could beat you in my sleep, no retreat, no surrender\n  start_ms: 181120\n  end_ms: 184430\n- text: And you can catch this native New Yorker\n  start_ms: 184430\n  end_ms: 186580\n- text: Tearing down highways, 80 in a Porsche\n  start_ms: 186580\n  end_ms: 189230\n- text: I mean I'm flying like a UFO saucer\n  start_ms: 189230\n  end_ms: 191400\n- text: They sure to take my license if the troopers would've caught you\n  start_ms: 191400\n  end_ms: 195020\n- text: Now I'm dipping down side blocks\n  start_ms: 195020\n  end_ms: 196830\n- text: Gotta get low 'cause I gotta stash five shots\n  start_ms: 196830\n  end_ms: 200080\n- text: I see a space and I'm on it\n  start_ms: 200080\n  end_ms: 201770\n- text: I gotta get low, motherfucker, for always\n  start_ms: 201770\n  end_ms: 204250\n- text: The dice game's like Vegas, still trying my luck\n  start_ms: 204250\n  end_ms: 206790\n- text: When it comes to pulling cards, you better watch who you pluck\n  start_ms: 206790\n  end_ms: 209230\n- text: Gracos with the lasers, when I fire, you duck\n  start_ms: 209230\n  end_ms: 211670\n- text: Gotta give you a set of wings so you can fly like us\n  start_ms: 211670\n  end_ms: 214060\n- text: Niggas are kidnapping kids out of the school\n  start_ms: 214060\n  end_ms: 216450\n- text: Ma, take her marijuana and good perico is all I move\n  start_ms: 216450\n  end_ms: 219330\n- text: You don't want it with the blues, nigga, we quick to draw\n  start_ms: 219330\n  end_ms: 221950\n- text: Byrd Gang, they ain't think they predicted the call, holla\n  start_ms: 221950\n  end_ms: 225990\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 225990\nplain: |-\n  You know, it's Jones, we only speak that way, man\n  What's up, man?\n  We only gon' tell you what the fuck goes on in our city\n  The shit that we gotta go through to live this life of\n  Being rock stars, motherfucker\n  Represent this God's place, you dig?\n\n  Shit, so now I'm walking through the tombs\n  Seven hours passed, but I'm out so soon\n  Damn, it's something about full moons\n  Make me cop cars, peel them out like prunes\n  Seen pops leaning on the couch with the spoons\n  Meanwhile, I was out and about with the goons\n  Tearing up the city, styling out in saloons\n  Whips a buck sixty, price higher than the moon\n\n  Motherfuck falling back, my niggas gon' try trouble\n  With the goonies, motherfucker, invading your triborough\n  Thought you had something with your candy cane gang\n  I'll bang the ratchet, nigga, till my finger feels sprained\n  All this snitching going on, niggas fucking up the game\n  Cop a lot of Maserati, be walking in the lane\n  As for me, comrade, I'm still cooking up the 'caine\n  On the first of the month, nigga, drop and make it rain, motherfucker\n\n  Nigga, the dirt had my hands all in it\n  Everybody around me guilty, the fam all in it\n  The Pyrex got them grams all in it\n  All them O's gotta come back, my plan's all in it\n  The next flip will get a nigga out of housing\n  The one after that will have me duPont browsing\n  Gorgeous gangster, they don't wanna see me styling\n  Getting facial when the blicka blocka pound me\n\n  Yeah, I tell a bitch to come and get me, I'm still on the block\n  Don't give a fuck about federales, I peel on the cop\n  And get away in the mist, probably getting lip\n  From a bitch in the passenger seat, nigga, I'm the shit\n  You ain't never seen a nigga no speeder than the boy\n  Smack the cheddar out of your hand and eat it off the floor\n  I be heated to the core, leaving off the tour\n  Mi amor, three and four, baby, is she a whore?\n\n  I pop shit by the dozen (I back it up, though)\n  Cop Cris' by the buckets (Get twisted)\n  I hit the dealer, cop whips out the luggage\n  Twin hard top drops, always switching the colors\n  Cops wishing to cuff us\n  'Cause we show our ass off so the bitches'll fuck us\n  And all my niggas is thugging\n  Getting drunk on the strip or I'm pimping in public\n\n  I'm giving it up, I'm giving a fuck\n  Got the blicka off my waist, now my shit ain't tucked, nigga\n  I give a fuck about the pigs\n  Give one, take one, I bleed for my nigs\n  That's just the way I was brought up\n  And talking all brazy, homie, get your clique caught up\n  We gang banging, no gimmicks\n  I'll give it to your ass in a New York minute\n\n  I was rocking eight balls, y'all was copping eight balls\n  Came up too fast, sorry, I can't relate y'all\n  Try and wean out the hate y'all\n  But I hate y'all shit with a passion\n  Whips, cop them and crash them\n  Can't even imagine how aggy\n  Hands sticky from burning tips on the baggies\n  No license, I'm known to try and bag me\n  Feeling like a Simpson, the Jag sitting on Maggie\n\n  Nigga, the snitching is getting ugly\n  They wonder how I do it, I tell them\n  I only listen to niggas getting money\n  Empty a clip at your tummy, I know what you ate\n  I was digging out your accountant, I know what you can't\n  Under 30 and hood rich, my own crib, mami\n  She cook and she clean, smack and stay home, she a good bitch\n  You rap niggas so sweet, so tender\n  I could beat you in my sleep, no retreat, no surrender\n\n  And you can catch this native New Yorker\n  Tearing down highways, 80 in a Porsche\n  I mean I'm flying like a UFO saucer\n  They sure to take my license if the troopers would've caught you\n\n  Now I'm dipping down side blocks\n  Gotta get low 'cause I gotta stash five shots\n  I see a space and I'm on it\n  I gotta get low, motherfucker, for always\n\n  The dice game's like Vegas, still trying my luck\n  When it comes to pulling cards, you better watch who you pluck\n  Gracos with the lasers, when I fire, you duck\n  Gotta give you a set of wings so you can fly like us\n\n  Niggas are kidnapping kids out of the school\n  Ma, take her marijuana and good perico is all I move\n  You don't want it with the blues, nigga, we quick to draw\n  Byrd Gang, they ain't think they predicted the call, holla\n"}]