[{"id":3677629,"name":"4 Seasons","trackName":"4 Seasons","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":261.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch\nBrick City, yo\n\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nAt 8 paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\n\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\nDoc serve to you to liquor in the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWest side highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\nLike they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\nPlatinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\nHoneys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\nThat's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarrots shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\nThink Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one, blaze one)\nBlaze one, blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow four corners, 4 seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\n\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\nSing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\nJa the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n(Hataz)\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\n\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWe ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\nYo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nThe clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.24] Bitch!\n[00:04.85] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:09.94] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:13.58] Brick City, yo\n[00:14.84] (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n[00:20.01] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:20.67] Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n[00:23.82] The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n[00:26.32] I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n[00:29.04] For money, to your house arrest anklet\n[00:31.46] I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n[00:34.27] Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n[00:36.89] I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n[00:38.88] Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n[00:41.32] Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n[00:43.52] Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n[00:46.78] Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n[00:49.18] Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n[00:52.20] Down South, the 44 feela\n[00:54.10] I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n[00:56.76] I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n[00:59.63] Westside highway running, homo nigga\n[01:01.66] I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n[01:05.12] I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n[01:07.45] When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n[01:09.85] I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n[01:12.48] I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n[01:14.87] I know my longevity confuse ya\n[01:17.26] Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n[01:19.77] Recognize the power of the royal King James\n[01:22.06] Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n[01:25.52] When they realize I'm not finished\n[01:27.41] I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n[01:30.05] Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n[01:32.44] Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n[01:34.98] Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n[01:36.55] Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n[01:39.49] Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n[01:42.02] That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n[01:44.78] The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n[01:47.53] Carats shine, the world all mine\n[01:49.68] Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n[01:52.15] Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n[01:54.93] Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n[01:57.87] Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n[01:59.97] We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n[02:02.45] The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n[02:04.76] Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n[02:07.56] Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n[02:10.05] Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n[02:12.46] Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n[02:14.62] What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n[02:16.89] (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n[02:19.43] Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n[02:21.75] Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n[02:24.44] Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n[02:27.18] And while you down there, suck my dick\n[02:29.23] My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n[02:32.72] MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n[02:35.44] I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n[02:37.70] Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n[02:39.68] Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n[02:42.27] I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n[02:44.82] Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n[02:47.63] I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n[02:50.42] Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n[02:53.01] Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n[02:55.39] Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n[02:57.91] Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n[03:00.33] Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n[03:02.77] Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n[03:05.25] Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n[03:07.82] Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n[03:10.22] \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n[03:12.68] Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n[03:16.19] Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n[03:19.00] Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n[03:21.83] Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n[03:23.96] You gon' get yours to the heart\n[03:25.96] Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n[03:29.59] Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n[03:33.12] I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n[03:35.68] When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n[03:38.28] But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n[03:40.76] Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n[03:44.03] \n[04:04.13] Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n[04:07.13] Where all the ladies at?\n[04:11.74] All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n[04:13.77] Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n[04:16.45] Make some noise\n[04:20.49] Check this shit out\n[04:21.38] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 261000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch!\n  start_ms: 240\n  end_ms: 4850\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 4850\n  end_ms: 9940\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 9940\n  end_ms: 13580\n- text: Brick City, yo\n  start_ms: 13580\n  end_ms: 14840\n- text: (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  start_ms: 14840\n  end_ms: 20010\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 20010\n  end_ms: 20670\n- text: Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  start_ms: 20670\n  end_ms: 23820\n- text: The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  start_ms: 23820\n  end_ms: 26320\n- text: I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  start_ms: 26320\n  end_ms: 29040\n- text: For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  start_ms: 29040\n  end_ms: 31460\n- text: I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  start_ms: 31460\n  end_ms: 34270\n- text: Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  start_ms: 34270\n  end_ms: 36890\n- text: I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  start_ms: 36890\n  end_ms: 38880\n- text: Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  start_ms: 38880\n  end_ms: 41320\n- text: Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  start_ms: 41320\n  end_ms: 43520\n- text: Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  start_ms: 43520\n  end_ms: 46780\n- text: Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  start_ms: 46780\n  end_ms: 49180\n- text: Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  start_ms: 49180\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Down South, the 44 feela\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 54100\n- text: I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  start_ms: 54100\n  end_ms: 56760\n- text: I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  start_ms: 56760\n  end_ms: 59630\n- text: Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  start_ms: 59630\n  end_ms: 61660\n- text: I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  start_ms: 61660\n  end_ms: 65120\n- text: I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  start_ms: 65120\n  end_ms: 67450\n- text: When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  start_ms: 67450\n  end_ms: 69850\n- text: I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  start_ms: 69850\n  end_ms: 72480\n- text: I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  start_ms: 72480\n  end_ms: 74870\n- text: I know my longevity confuse ya\n  start_ms: 74870\n  end_ms: 77260\n- text: Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  start_ms: 77260\n  end_ms: 79770\n- text: Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  start_ms: 79770\n  end_ms: 82060\n- text: Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  start_ms: 82060\n  end_ms: 85520\n- text: When they realize I'm not finished\n  start_ms: 85520\n  end_ms: 87410\n- text: I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  start_ms: 87410\n  end_ms: 90050\n- text: Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  start_ms: 90050\n  end_ms: 92440\n- text: Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  start_ms: 92440\n  end_ms: 94980\n- text: Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  start_ms: 94980\n  end_ms: 96550\n- text: Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  start_ms: 96550\n  end_ms: 99490\n- text: Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n  start_ms: 99490\n  end_ms: 102020\n- text: That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  start_ms: 102020\n  end_ms: 104780\n- text: The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  start_ms: 104780\n  end_ms: 107530\n- text: Carats shine, the world all mine\n  start_ms: 107530\n  end_ms: 109680\n- text: Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  start_ms: 109680\n  end_ms: 112150\n- text: Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  start_ms: 112150\n  end_ms: 114930\n- text: Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  start_ms: 114930\n  end_ms: 117870\n- text: Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  start_ms: 117870\n  end_ms: 119970\n- text: We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  start_ms: 119970\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127560\n- text: Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  start_ms: 127560\n  end_ms: 130050\n- text: Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  start_ms: 130050\n  end_ms: 132460\n- text: Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  start_ms: 132460\n  end_ms: 134620\n- text: What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  start_ms: 134620\n  end_ms: 136890\n- text: (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  start_ms: 136890\n  end_ms: 139430\n- text: Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  start_ms: 139430\n  end_ms: 141750\n- text: Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  start_ms: 141750\n  end_ms: 144440\n- text: Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  start_ms: 144440\n  end_ms: 147180\n- text: And while you down there, suck my dick\n  start_ms: 147180\n  end_ms: 149230\n- text: My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  start_ms: 149230\n  end_ms: 152720\n- text: MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  start_ms: 152720\n  end_ms: 155440\n- text: I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  start_ms: 155440\n  end_ms: 157700\n- text: Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  start_ms: 157700\n  end_ms: 159680\n- text: Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  start_ms: 159680\n  end_ms: 162270\n- text: I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  start_ms: 162270\n  end_ms: 164820\n- text: Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  start_ms: 164820\n  end_ms: 167630\n- text: I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  start_ms: 167630\n  end_ms: 170420\n- text: Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  start_ms: 170420\n  end_ms: 173010\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  start_ms: 173010\n  end_ms: 175390\n- text: Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  start_ms: 175390\n  end_ms: 177910\n- text: Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  start_ms: 177910\n  end_ms: 180330\n- text: Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n  start_ms: 180330\n  end_ms: 182770\n- text: Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  start_ms: 182770\n  end_ms: 185250\n- text: Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  start_ms: 185250\n  end_ms: 187820\n- text: Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  start_ms: 187820\n  end_ms: 190220\n- text: '\"Are y''all really holdin'' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"'\n  start_ms: 190220\n  end_ms: 192680\n- text: Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  start_ms: 192680\n  end_ms: 196190\n- text: Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  start_ms: 196190\n  end_ms: 199000\n- text: Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  start_ms: 199000\n  end_ms: 201830\n- text: Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  start_ms: 201830\n  end_ms: 203960\n- text: You gon' get yours to the heart\n  start_ms: 203960\n  end_ms: 205960\n- text: Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n  start_ms: 205960\n  end_ms: 209590\n- text: Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  start_ms: 209590\n  end_ms: 213120\n- text: I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  start_ms: 213120\n  end_ms: 215680\n- text: When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  start_ms: 215680\n  end_ms: 218280\n- text: But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  start_ms: 218280\n  end_ms: 220760\n- text: Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 220760\n  end_ms: 224030\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 224030\n  end_ms: 244130\n- text: Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 244130\n  end_ms: 247130\n- text: Where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 247130\n  end_ms: 251740\n- text: All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  start_ms: 251740\n  end_ms: 253770\n- text: Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  start_ms: 253770\n  end_ms: 256450\n- text: Make some noise\n  start_ms: 256450\n  end_ms: 260490\n- text: Check this shit out\n  start_ms: 260490\n  end_ms: 261380\nplain: |-\n  Bitch\n  Brick City, yo\n\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  At 8 paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\n  Doc serve to you to liquor in the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  West side highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\n  Like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\n  Platinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\n  Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\n  That's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carrots shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\n  Think Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one, blaze one)\n  Blaze one, blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now four corners, 4 seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\n  Sing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\n  Ja the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n  (Hataz)\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  We ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\n  Yo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  The clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":19797015,"name":"4 Seasons","trackName":"4 Seasons","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":273.63905,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch\nBrick City, yo\n\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nAt 8 paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\n\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\nDoc serve to you to liquor in the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWest side highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\nLike they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\nPlatinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\nHoneys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\nThat's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarrots shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\nThink Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one, blaze one)\nBlaze one, blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow four corners, 4 seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\n\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\nSing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\nJa the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n(Hataz)\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\n\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWe ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\nYo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nThe clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 273639\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch\n  Brick City, yo\n\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  At 8 paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\n  Doc serve to you to liquor in the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  West side highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\n  Like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\n  Platinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\n  Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\n  That's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carrots shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\n  Think Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one, blaze one)\n  Blaze one, blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now four corners, 4 seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\n  Sing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\n  Ja the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n  (Hataz)\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  We ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\n  Yo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  The clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":19477462,"name":"4 Seasons","trackName":"4 Seasons","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":263.472,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch\nBrick City, yo\n\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nAt 8 paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\n\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\nDoc serve to you to liquor in the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWest side highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\nLike they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\nPlatinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\nHoneys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\nThat's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarrots shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\nThink Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one, blaze one)\nBlaze one, blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow four corners, 4 seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\n\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\nSing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\nJa the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n(Hataz)\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\n\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWe ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\nYo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nThe clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 263472\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch\n  Brick City, yo\n\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  At 8 paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\n  Doc serve to you to liquor in the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  West side highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\n  Like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\n  Platinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\n  Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\n  That's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carrots shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\n  Think Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one, blaze one)\n  Blaze one, blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now four corners, 4 seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\n  Sing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\n  Ja the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n  (Hataz)\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  We ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\n  Yo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  The clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":20462883,"name":"4 Seasons","trackName":"4 Seasons","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":265.85955,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch\nBrick City, yo\n\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nAt 8 paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\n\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\nDoc serve to you to liquor in the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWest side highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\nLike they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\nPlatinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\nHoneys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\nThat's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarrots shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\nThink Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one, blaze one)\nBlaze one, blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow four corners, 4 seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\n\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\nSing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\nJa the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n(Hataz)\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\n\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWe ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\nYo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nThe clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 265860\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch\n  Brick City, yo\n\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  At 8 paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\n  Doc serve to you to liquor in the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  West side highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\n  Like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\n  Platinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\n  Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\n  That's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carrots shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\n  Think Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one, blaze one)\n  Blaze one, blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now four corners, 4 seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\n  Sing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\n  Ja the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n  (Hataz)\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  We ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\n  Yo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  The clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":23949303,"name":"4 Seasons","trackName":"4 Seasons","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout [Bonus Track]","duration":261.3631232,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch\nBrick City, yo\n\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nAt 8 paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\n\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\nDoc serve to you to liquor in the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWest side highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\nLike they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\nPlatinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\nHoneys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\nThat's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarrots shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\nThink Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one, blaze one)\nBlaze one, blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow four corners, 4 seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\n\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\nSing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\nJa the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n(Hataz)\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\n\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWe ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\nYo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nThe clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout [Bonus Track]\n  duration_ms: 261363\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch\n  Brick City, yo\n\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  At 8 paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\n  Doc serve to you to liquor in the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  West side highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\n  Like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\n  Platinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\n  Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\n  That's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carrots shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\n  Think Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one, blaze one)\n  Blaze one, blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now four corners, 4 seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\n  Sing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\n  Ja the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n  (Hataz)\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  We ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\n  Yo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  The clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":37056530,"name":"4 Seasons","trackName":"4 Seasons","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":161.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch\nBrick City, yo\n\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nAt 8 paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\n\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\nDoc serve to you to liquor in the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWest side highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\nLike they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\nPlatinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\nHoneys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\nThat's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarrots shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\nThink Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one, blaze one)\nBlaze one, blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow four corners, 4 seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\n\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\nSing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\nJa the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n(Hataz)\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\n\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWe ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\nYo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nThe clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 161000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch\n  Brick City, yo\n\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  At 8 paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\n  Doc serve to you to liquor in the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  West side highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\n  Like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\n  Platinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\n  Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\n  That's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carrots shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\n  Think Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one, blaze one)\n  Blaze one, blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now four corners, 4 seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\n  Sing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\n  Ja the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n  (Hataz)\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  We ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\n  Yo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  The clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":28979337,"name":"4 Seasons","trackName":"4 Seasons","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":255.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch\nBrick City, yo\n\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nAt 8 paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\n\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\nDoc serve to you to liquor in the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWest side highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\nLike they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\nPlatinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\nHoneys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\nThat's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarrots shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\nThink Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one, blaze one)\nBlaze one, blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow four corners, 4 seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\n\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\nSing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\nJa the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n(Hataz)\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\n\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWe ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\nYo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nThe clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 255000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch\n  Brick City, yo\n\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  At 8 paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\n  Doc serve to you to liquor in the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  West side highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\n  Like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\n  Platinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\n  Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\n  That's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carrots shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\n  Think Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one, blaze one)\n  Blaze one, blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now four corners, 4 seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\n  Sing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\n  Ja the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n  (Hataz)\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  We ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\n  Yo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  The clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":31028478,"name":"4 Seasons (Instrumental)","trackName":"4 Seasons (Instrumental)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Y.O.U. VLS","duration":244.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch!\n(This all gonna pass)\n(This all gonna pass)\nBrick City, yo\n(This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n(This all gonna pass)\n\nFunk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\nThe rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\nDoc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\nFire thrown to the roof of your apartment\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\nDown South, the 44 feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWestside highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\nWhen I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\nI'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\nI know my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper games, come on, run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\nBeen eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\nPlatinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\nSippin' rainbow-colored drinks\nBlack thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\nThat's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\nCarats shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\nThem gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\nThink Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow, four corners, four seasons (uh)\nFour MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\nDeep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\nStill foul, crimi-niminal, individual\nSing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\nToo many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\nPut that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\nBe easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\nNor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\nNiggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n\"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\nJa the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\nMaybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\nAmongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\nNiggas can't deal with, try it (players)\nYou gon' get yours to the heart\nLesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\nHot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\nI'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\nWhen they ride dick so well, head game from hell\nBut I love makin' 'em yell, my name\nRule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\nYo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nClean underwear and she don't need welfare\nMake some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons (Instrumental)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Y.O.U. VLS\n  duration_ms: 244000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch!\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  Brick City, yo\n  (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  (This all gonna pass)\n\n  Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\n  Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  Down South, the 44 feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  Westside highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  I know my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\n  That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  Carats shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\n  Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n  Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  You gon' get yours to the heart\n  Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\n  Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\n  Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  Make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":15408100,"name":"4 Seasons (Album Version Explicit)","trackName":"4 Seasons (Album Version Explicit)","artistName":"Method Man\u0000Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":261.3812239,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Smoke More Grass\nBitch!\nBrick City, yo\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nI ate paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\nDoc serve til you lickin' the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\nDown South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWestside highway running, homo nigga\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto\nThe homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\nPlatinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\nThat's why ya niggas freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarats shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\nThe Alize swigger, I clock twelve figgas\nThink Giuliani's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one) Blaze one (Blaze one) Blaze One\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\nNow four corners, four seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to its knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical\nStill gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\nSing a song of sixpence\nPocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second, and hip-hop first\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody gas me?\nJa be the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it (Hataz) you gonna get yours to the heart\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWho ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby, and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh","syncedLyrics":"[00:14.76] Smoke More Grass\n[00:18.58] Bitch!\n[00:19.36] Brick City, yo\n[00:19.56] Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n[00:23.53] I ate paint chips the rare moon\n[00:24.74] That pair mics, my maintenance\n[00:26.90] I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n[00:28.88] For money, to your house arrest anklet\n[00:31.54] I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n[00:34.30] Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n[00:36.33] I'm constant, on that paper chase\n[00:39.28] Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n[00:41.51] Doc serve til you lickin' the plate\n[00:43.66] Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n[00:46.15] Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n[00:49.46] Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n[00:52.02] Down South, the forty-four feela\n[00:54.55] I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n[00:57.23] I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n[00:59.32] Westside highway running, homo nigga\n[01:01.84] I'm the sultan of the ghetto\n[01:03.40] The homicidal aficionado\n[01:05.10] I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n[01:07.01] When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n[01:09.92] I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n[01:12.43] I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n[01:15.49] I knew my longevity confuse ya\n[01:17.78] Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n[01:19.57] Recognize the power of the royal King James\n[01:22.35] Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinking Guinness\n[01:25.40] When they realize I'm not finished\n[01:27.53] I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n[01:30.64] Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n[01:32.76] Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n[01:36.79] Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n[01:39.48] Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n[01:42.70] That's why ya niggas freeze when I step up in the building\n[01:44.89] The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n[01:47.56] Carats shine, the world all mine\n[01:49.64] Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n[01:52.69] Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n[01:54.99] Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n[01:57.43] Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n[01:59.90] We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n[02:03.06] The Alize swigger, I clock twelve figgas\n[02:04.99] Think Giuliani's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n[02:07.87] Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n[02:09.99] Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n[02:12.44] Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n[02:14.70] What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n[02:17.42] (Blaze one) Blaze one (Blaze one) Blaze One\n[02:20.20] Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n[02:22.91] Now four corners, four seasons\n[02:24.72] Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to its knees\n[02:27.90] And while you down there, suck my dick\n[02:30.03] My whole motto is fuck it\n[02:31.25] Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n[02:32.70] MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n[02:35.22] I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n[02:37.52] Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n[02:39.85] Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n[02:42.52] I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n[02:45.26] Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n[02:47.70] I'm still wild, still Tical\n[02:50.09] Still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n[02:53.25] Sing a song of sixpence\n[02:55.18] Pocket full of chits\n[02:56.39] Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n[02:58.25] Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n[03:00.54] Put that rap shit second, and hip-hop first\n[03:02.84] Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n[03:05.54] Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n[03:08.04] Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n[03:11.28] Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody gas me?\n[03:13.04] Ja be the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain\n[03:15.41] Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n[03:17.57] So you ridin' with gangstas\n[03:19.62] I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n[03:21.12] Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n[03:23.44] Try it (Hataz) you gonna get yours to the heart\n[03:26.36] Lesson tonight by the four-four\n[03:28.07] Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n[03:30.79] L.L. an Red\n[03:32.28] Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n[03:34.72] So bitches explain this\n[03:36.22] Who ride dick so well, head game from hell\n[03:38.58] I love making them yell, my name\n[03:40.38] Rule baby, and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n[03:45.60] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons (Album Version Explicit)\n  artist: \"Method Man\\0Redman\"\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 261381\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Smoke More Grass\n  start_ms: 14760\n  end_ms: 18580\n- text: Bitch!\n  start_ms: 18580\n  end_ms: 19360\n- text: Brick City, yo\n  start_ms: 19360\n  end_ms: 19560\n- text: Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  start_ms: 19560\n  end_ms: 23530\n- text: I ate paint chips the rare moon\n  start_ms: 23530\n  end_ms: 24740\n- text: That pair mics, my maintenance\n  start_ms: 24740\n  end_ms: 26900\n- text: I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  start_ms: 26900\n  end_ms: 28880\n- text: For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  start_ms: 28880\n  end_ms: 31540\n- text: I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  start_ms: 31540\n  end_ms: 34300\n- text: Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  start_ms: 34300\n  end_ms: 36330\n- text: I'm constant, on that paper chase\n  start_ms: 36330\n  end_ms: 39280\n- text: Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  start_ms: 39280\n  end_ms: 41510\n- text: Doc serve til you lickin' the plate\n  start_ms: 41510\n  end_ms: 43660\n- text: Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  start_ms: 43660\n  end_ms: 46150\n- text: Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n  start_ms: 46150\n  end_ms: 49460\n- text: Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  start_ms: 49460\n  end_ms: 52020\n- text: Down South, the forty-four feela\n  start_ms: 52020\n  end_ms: 54550\n- text: I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  start_ms: 54550\n  end_ms: 57230\n- text: I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  start_ms: 57230\n  end_ms: 59320\n- text: Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  start_ms: 59320\n  end_ms: 61840\n- text: I'm the sultan of the ghetto\n  start_ms: 61840\n  end_ms: 63400\n- text: The homicidal aficionado\n  start_ms: 63400\n  end_ms: 65100\n- text: I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  start_ms: 65100\n  end_ms: 67010\n- text: When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  start_ms: 67010\n  end_ms: 69920\n- text: I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  start_ms: 69920\n  end_ms: 72430\n- text: I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  start_ms: 72430\n  end_ms: 75490\n- text: I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  start_ms: 75490\n  end_ms: 77780\n- text: Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  start_ms: 77780\n  end_ms: 79570\n- text: Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  start_ms: 79570\n  end_ms: 82350\n- text: Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinking Guinness\n  start_ms: 82350\n  end_ms: 85400\n- text: When they realize I'm not finished\n  start_ms: 85400\n  end_ms: 87530\n- text: I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  start_ms: 87530\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 92760\n- text: Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  start_ms: 92760\n  end_ms: 96790\n- text: Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  start_ms: 96790\n  end_ms: 99480\n- text: Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n  start_ms: 99480\n  end_ms: 102700\n- text: That's why ya niggas freeze when I step up in the building\n  start_ms: 102700\n  end_ms: 104890\n- text: The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  start_ms: 104890\n  end_ms: 107560\n- text: Carats shine, the world all mine\n  start_ms: 107560\n  end_ms: 109640\n- text: Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n  start_ms: 109640\n  end_ms: 112690\n- text: Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  start_ms: 112690\n  end_ms: 114990\n- text: Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  start_ms: 114990\n  end_ms: 117430\n- text: Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  start_ms: 117430\n  end_ms: 119900\n- text: We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  start_ms: 119900\n  end_ms: 123060\n- text: The Alize swigger, I clock twelve figgas\n  start_ms: 123060\n  end_ms: 124990\n- text: Think Giuliani's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  start_ms: 124990\n  end_ms: 127870\n- text: Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  start_ms: 127870\n  end_ms: 129990\n- text: Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n  start_ms: 129990\n  end_ms: 132440\n- text: Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  start_ms: 132440\n  end_ms: 134700\n- text: What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  start_ms: 134700\n  end_ms: 137420\n- text: (Blaze one) Blaze one (Blaze one) Blaze One\n  start_ms: 137420\n  end_ms: 140200\n- text: Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  start_ms: 140200\n  end_ms: 142910\n- text: Now four corners, four seasons\n  start_ms: 142910\n  end_ms: 144720\n- text: Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to its knees\n  start_ms: 144720\n  end_ms: 147900\n- text: And while you down there, suck my dick\n  start_ms: 147900\n  end_ms: 150030\n- text: My whole motto is fuck it\n  start_ms: 150030\n  end_ms: 151250\n- text: Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  start_ms: 151250\n  end_ms: 152700\n- text: MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  start_ms: 152700\n  end_ms: 155220\n- text: I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  start_ms: 155220\n  end_ms: 157520\n- text: Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n  start_ms: 157520\n  end_ms: 159850\n- text: Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  start_ms: 159850\n  end_ms: 162520\n- text: I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  start_ms: 162520\n  end_ms: 165260\n- text: Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  start_ms: 165260\n  end_ms: 167700\n- text: I'm still wild, still Tical\n  start_ms: 167700\n  end_ms: 170090\n- text: Still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  start_ms: 170090\n  end_ms: 173250\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence\n  start_ms: 173250\n  end_ms: 175180\n- text: Pocket full of chits\n  start_ms: 175180\n  end_ms: 176390\n- text: Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  start_ms: 176390\n  end_ms: 178250\n- text: Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  start_ms: 178250\n  end_ms: 180540\n- text: Put that rap shit second, and hip-hop first\n  start_ms: 180540\n  end_ms: 182840\n- text: Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  start_ms: 182840\n  end_ms: 185540\n- text: Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  start_ms: 185540\n  end_ms: 188040\n- text: Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  start_ms: 188040\n  end_ms: 191280\n- text: Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody gas me?\n  start_ms: 191280\n  end_ms: 193040\n- text: Ja be the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain\n  start_ms: 193040\n  end_ms: 195410\n- text: Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  start_ms: 195410\n  end_ms: 197570\n- text: So you ridin' with gangstas\n  start_ms: 197570\n  end_ms: 199620\n- text: I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n  start_ms: 199620\n  end_ms: 201120\n- text: Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  start_ms: 201120\n  end_ms: 203440\n- text: Try it (Hataz) you gonna get yours to the heart\n  start_ms: 203440\n  end_ms: 206360\n- text: Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  start_ms: 206360\n  end_ms: 208070\n- text: Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  start_ms: 208070\n  end_ms: 210790\n- text: L.L. an Red\n  start_ms: 210790\n  end_ms: 212280\n- text: Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  start_ms: 212280\n  end_ms: 214720\n- text: So bitches explain this\n  start_ms: 214720\n  end_ms: 216220\n- text: Who ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  start_ms: 216220\n  end_ms: 218580\n- text: I love making them yell, my name\n  start_ms: 218580\n  end_ms: 220380\n- text: Rule baby, and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n  start_ms: 220380\n  end_ms: 225600\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 225600\nplain: |-\n  Smoke More Grass\n  Bitch!\n  Brick City, yo\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  I ate paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  Doc serve til you lickin' the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto\n  The homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n  Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n  That's why ya niggas freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carats shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  The Alize swigger, I clock twelve figgas\n  Think Giuliani's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one) Blaze one (Blaze one) Blaze One\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  Now four corners, four seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to its knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical\n  Still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  Sing a song of sixpence\n  Pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second, and hip-hop first\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody gas me?\n  Ja be the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it (Hataz) you gonna get yours to the heart\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  Who ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby, and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n"},{"id":9501944,"name":"4 Seasons (featuring Ja Rule..","trackName":"4 Seasons (featuring Ja Rule..","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":260.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch\nBrick City, yo\n\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nAt 8 paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\n\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\nDoc serve to you to liquor in the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWest side highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\nLike they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\nPlatinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\nHoneys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\nThat's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarrots shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\nThink Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one, blaze one)\nBlaze one, blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow four corners, 4 seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\n\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\nSing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\nJa the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n(Hataz)\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\n\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWe ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\nYo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nThe clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.24] Bitch!\n[00:04.85] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:09.94] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:13.58] Brick City, yo\n[00:14.84] (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n[00:20.01] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:20.67] Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n[00:23.82] The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n[00:26.32] I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n[00:29.04] For money, to your house arrest anklet\n[00:31.46] I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n[00:34.27] Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n[00:36.89] I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n[00:38.88] Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n[00:41.32] Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n[00:43.52] Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n[00:46.78] Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n[00:49.18] Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n[00:52.20] Down South, the 44 feela\n[00:54.10] I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n[00:56.76] I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n[00:59.63] Westside highway running, homo nigga\n[01:01.66] I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n[01:05.12] I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n[01:07.45] When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n[01:09.85] I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n[01:12.48] I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n[01:14.87] I know my longevity confuse ya\n[01:17.26] Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n[01:19.77] Recognize the power of the royal King James\n[01:22.06] Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n[01:25.52] When they realize I'm not finished\n[01:27.41] I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n[01:30.05] Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n[01:32.44] Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n[01:34.98] Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n[01:36.55] Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n[01:39.49] Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n[01:42.02] That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n[01:44.78] The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n[01:47.53] Carats shine, the world all mine\n[01:49.68] Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n[01:52.15] Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n[01:54.93] Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n[01:57.87] Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n[01:59.97] We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n[02:02.45] The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n[02:04.76] Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n[02:07.56] Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n[02:10.05] Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n[02:12.46] Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n[02:14.62] What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n[02:16.89] (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n[02:19.43] Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n[02:21.75] Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n[02:24.44] Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n[02:27.18] And while you down there, suck my dick\n[02:29.23] My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n[02:32.72] MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n[02:35.44] I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n[02:37.70] Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n[02:39.68] Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n[02:42.27] I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n[02:44.82] Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n[02:47.63] I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n[02:50.42] Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n[02:53.01] Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n[02:55.39] Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n[02:57.91] Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n[03:00.33] Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n[03:02.77] Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n[03:05.25] Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n[03:07.82] Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n[03:10.22] \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n[03:12.68] Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n[03:16.19] Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n[03:19.00] Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n[03:21.83] Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n[03:23.96] You gon' get yours to the heart\n[03:25.96] Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n[03:29.59] Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n[03:33.12] I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n[03:35.68] When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n[03:38.28] But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n[03:40.76] Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n[03:44.03] \n[04:04.13] Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n[04:07.13] Where all the ladies at?\n[04:11.74] All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n[04:13.77] Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n[04:16.45] Make some noise\n[04:20.49] Check this shit out\n[04:21.38] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons (featuring Ja Rule..\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 260000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch!\n  start_ms: 240\n  end_ms: 4850\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 4850\n  end_ms: 9940\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 9940\n  end_ms: 13580\n- text: Brick City, yo\n  start_ms: 13580\n  end_ms: 14840\n- text: (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  start_ms: 14840\n  end_ms: 20010\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 20010\n  end_ms: 20670\n- text: Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  start_ms: 20670\n  end_ms: 23820\n- text: The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  start_ms: 23820\n  end_ms: 26320\n- text: I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  start_ms: 26320\n  end_ms: 29040\n- text: For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  start_ms: 29040\n  end_ms: 31460\n- text: I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  start_ms: 31460\n  end_ms: 34270\n- text: Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  start_ms: 34270\n  end_ms: 36890\n- text: I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  start_ms: 36890\n  end_ms: 38880\n- text: Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  start_ms: 38880\n  end_ms: 41320\n- text: Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  start_ms: 41320\n  end_ms: 43520\n- text: Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  start_ms: 43520\n  end_ms: 46780\n- text: Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  start_ms: 46780\n  end_ms: 49180\n- text: Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  start_ms: 49180\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Down South, the 44 feela\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 54100\n- text: I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  start_ms: 54100\n  end_ms: 56760\n- text: I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  start_ms: 56760\n  end_ms: 59630\n- text: Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  start_ms: 59630\n  end_ms: 61660\n- text: I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  start_ms: 61660\n  end_ms: 65120\n- text: I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  start_ms: 65120\n  end_ms: 67450\n- text: When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  start_ms: 67450\n  end_ms: 69850\n- text: I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  start_ms: 69850\n  end_ms: 72480\n- text: I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  start_ms: 72480\n  end_ms: 74870\n- text: I know my longevity confuse ya\n  start_ms: 74870\n  end_ms: 77260\n- text: Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  start_ms: 77260\n  end_ms: 79770\n- text: Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  start_ms: 79770\n  end_ms: 82060\n- text: Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  start_ms: 82060\n  end_ms: 85520\n- text: When they realize I'm not finished\n  start_ms: 85520\n  end_ms: 87410\n- text: I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  start_ms: 87410\n  end_ms: 90050\n- text: Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  start_ms: 90050\n  end_ms: 92440\n- text: Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  start_ms: 92440\n  end_ms: 94980\n- text: Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  start_ms: 94980\n  end_ms: 96550\n- text: Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  start_ms: 96550\n  end_ms: 99490\n- text: Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n  start_ms: 99490\n  end_ms: 102020\n- text: That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  start_ms: 102020\n  end_ms: 104780\n- text: The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  start_ms: 104780\n  end_ms: 107530\n- text: Carats shine, the world all mine\n  start_ms: 107530\n  end_ms: 109680\n- text: Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  start_ms: 109680\n  end_ms: 112150\n- text: Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  start_ms: 112150\n  end_ms: 114930\n- text: Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  start_ms: 114930\n  end_ms: 117870\n- text: Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  start_ms: 117870\n  end_ms: 119970\n- text: We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  start_ms: 119970\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127560\n- text: Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  start_ms: 127560\n  end_ms: 130050\n- text: Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  start_ms: 130050\n  end_ms: 132460\n- text: Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  start_ms: 132460\n  end_ms: 134620\n- text: What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  start_ms: 134620\n  end_ms: 136890\n- text: (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  start_ms: 136890\n  end_ms: 139430\n- text: Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  start_ms: 139430\n  end_ms: 141750\n- text: Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  start_ms: 141750\n  end_ms: 144440\n- text: Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  start_ms: 144440\n  end_ms: 147180\n- text: And while you down there, suck my dick\n  start_ms: 147180\n  end_ms: 149230\n- text: My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  start_ms: 149230\n  end_ms: 152720\n- text: MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  start_ms: 152720\n  end_ms: 155440\n- text: I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  start_ms: 155440\n  end_ms: 157700\n- text: Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  start_ms: 157700\n  end_ms: 159680\n- text: Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  start_ms: 159680\n  end_ms: 162270\n- text: I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  start_ms: 162270\n  end_ms: 164820\n- text: Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  start_ms: 164820\n  end_ms: 167630\n- text: I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  start_ms: 167630\n  end_ms: 170420\n- text: Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  start_ms: 170420\n  end_ms: 173010\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  start_ms: 173010\n  end_ms: 175390\n- text: Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  start_ms: 175390\n  end_ms: 177910\n- text: Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  start_ms: 177910\n  end_ms: 180330\n- text: Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n  start_ms: 180330\n  end_ms: 182770\n- text: Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  start_ms: 182770\n  end_ms: 185250\n- text: Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  start_ms: 185250\n  end_ms: 187820\n- text: Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  start_ms: 187820\n  end_ms: 190220\n- text: '\"Are y''all really holdin'' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"'\n  start_ms: 190220\n  end_ms: 192680\n- text: Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  start_ms: 192680\n  end_ms: 196190\n- text: Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  start_ms: 196190\n  end_ms: 199000\n- text: Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  start_ms: 199000\n  end_ms: 201830\n- text: Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  start_ms: 201830\n  end_ms: 203960\n- text: You gon' get yours to the heart\n  start_ms: 203960\n  end_ms: 205960\n- text: Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n  start_ms: 205960\n  end_ms: 209590\n- text: Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  start_ms: 209590\n  end_ms: 213120\n- text: I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  start_ms: 213120\n  end_ms: 215680\n- text: When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  start_ms: 215680\n  end_ms: 218280\n- text: But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  start_ms: 218280\n  end_ms: 220760\n- text: Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 220760\n  end_ms: 224030\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 224030\n  end_ms: 244130\n- text: Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 244130\n  end_ms: 247130\n- text: Where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 247130\n  end_ms: 251740\n- text: All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  start_ms: 251740\n  end_ms: 253770\n- text: Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  start_ms: 253770\n  end_ms: 256450\n- text: Make some noise\n  start_ms: 256450\n  end_ms: 260490\n- text: Check this shit out\n  start_ms: 260490\n  end_ms: 261380\nplain: |-\n  Bitch\n  Brick City, yo\n\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  At 8 paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\n  Doc serve to you to liquor in the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  West side highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\n  Like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\n  Platinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\n  Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\n  That's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carrots shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\n  Think Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one, blaze one)\n  Blaze one, blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now four corners, 4 seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\n  Sing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\n  Ja the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n  (Hataz)\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  We ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\n  Yo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  The clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":39338176,"name":"4 Seasons (Album Version (Explicit))","trackName":"4 Seasons (Album Version (Explicit))","artistName":"Method Man, Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":261.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch!\n(This all gonna pass)\n(This all gonna pass)\nBrick City, yo\n(This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n(This all gonna pass)\n\nFunk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\nThe rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\nDoc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\nFire thrown to the roof of your apartment\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\nDown South, the 44 feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWestside highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\nWhen I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\nI'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\nI know my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper games, come on, run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\nBeen eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\nPlatinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\nSippin' rainbow-colored drinks\nBlack thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\nThat's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\nCarats shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\nThem gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\nThink Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow, four corners, four seasons (uh)\nFour MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\nDeep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\nStill foul, crimi-niminal, individual\nSing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\nToo many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\nPut that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\nBe easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\nNor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\nNiggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n\"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\nJa the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\nMaybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\nAmongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\nNiggas can't deal with, try it (players)\nYou gon' get yours to the heart\nLesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\nHot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\nI'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\nWhen they ride dick so well, head game from hell\nBut I love makin' 'em yell, my name\nRule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\nYo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nClean underwear and she don't need welfare\nMake some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.24] Bitch!\n[00:04.85] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:09.94] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:13.58] Brick City, yo\n[00:14.84] (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n[00:20.01] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:20.67] Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n[00:23.82] The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n[00:26.32] I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n[00:29.04] For money, to your house arrest anklet\n[00:31.46] I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n[00:34.27] Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n[00:36.89] I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n[00:38.88] Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n[00:41.32] Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n[00:43.52] Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n[00:46.78] Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n[00:49.18] Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n[00:52.20] Down South, the 44 feela\n[00:54.10] I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n[00:56.76] I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n[00:59.63] Westside highway running, homo nigga\n[01:01.66] I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n[01:05.12] I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n[01:07.45] When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n[01:09.85] I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n[01:12.48] I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n[01:14.87] I know my longevity confuse ya\n[01:17.26] Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n[01:19.77] Recognize the power of the royal King James\n[01:22.06] Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n[01:25.52] When they realize I'm not finished\n[01:27.41] I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n[01:30.05] Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n[01:32.44] Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n[01:34.98] Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n[01:36.55] Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n[01:39.49] Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n[01:42.02] That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n[01:44.78] The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n[01:47.53] Carats shine, the world all mine\n[01:49.68] Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n[01:52.15] Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n[01:54.93] Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n[01:57.87] Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n[01:59.97] We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n[02:02.45] The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n[02:04.76] Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n[02:07.56] Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n[02:10.05] Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n[02:12.46] Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n[02:14.62] What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n[02:16.89] (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n[02:19.43] Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n[02:21.75] Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n[02:24.44] Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n[02:27.18] And while you down there, suck my dick\n[02:29.23] My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n[02:32.72] MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n[02:35.44] I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n[02:37.70] Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n[02:39.68] Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n[02:42.27] I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n[02:44.82] Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n[02:47.63] I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n[02:50.42] Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n[02:53.01] Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n[02:55.39] Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n[02:57.91] Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n[03:00.33] Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n[03:02.77] Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n[03:05.25] Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n[03:07.82] Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n[03:10.22] \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n[03:12.68] Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n[03:16.19] Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n[03:19.00] Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n[03:21.83] Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n[03:23.96] You gon' get yours to the heart\n[03:25.96] Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n[03:29.59] Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n[03:33.12] I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n[03:35.68] When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n[03:38.28] But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n[03:40.76] Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n[03:44.03] \n[04:04.13] Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n[04:07.13] Where all the ladies at?\n[04:11.74] All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n[04:13.77] Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n[04:16.45] Make some noise\n[04:20.49] Check this shit out\n[04:21.38] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons (Album Version (Explicit))\n  artist: Method Man, Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 261341\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch!\n  start_ms: 240\n  end_ms: 4850\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 4850\n  end_ms: 9940\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 9940\n  end_ms: 13580\n- text: Brick City, yo\n  start_ms: 13580\n  end_ms: 14840\n- text: (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  start_ms: 14840\n  end_ms: 20010\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 20010\n  end_ms: 20670\n- text: Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  start_ms: 20670\n  end_ms: 23820\n- text: The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  start_ms: 23820\n  end_ms: 26320\n- text: I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  start_ms: 26320\n  end_ms: 29040\n- text: For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  start_ms: 29040\n  end_ms: 31460\n- text: I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  start_ms: 31460\n  end_ms: 34270\n- text: Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  start_ms: 34270\n  end_ms: 36890\n- text: I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  start_ms: 36890\n  end_ms: 38880\n- text: Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  start_ms: 38880\n  end_ms: 41320\n- text: Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  start_ms: 41320\n  end_ms: 43520\n- text: Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  start_ms: 43520\n  end_ms: 46780\n- text: Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  start_ms: 46780\n  end_ms: 49180\n- text: Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  start_ms: 49180\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Down South, the 44 feela\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 54100\n- text: I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  start_ms: 54100\n  end_ms: 56760\n- text: I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  start_ms: 56760\n  end_ms: 59630\n- text: Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  start_ms: 59630\n  end_ms: 61660\n- text: I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  start_ms: 61660\n  end_ms: 65120\n- text: I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  start_ms: 65120\n  end_ms: 67450\n- text: When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  start_ms: 67450\n  end_ms: 69850\n- text: I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  start_ms: 69850\n  end_ms: 72480\n- text: I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  start_ms: 72480\n  end_ms: 74870\n- text: I know my longevity confuse ya\n  start_ms: 74870\n  end_ms: 77260\n- text: Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  start_ms: 77260\n  end_ms: 79770\n- text: Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  start_ms: 79770\n  end_ms: 82060\n- text: Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  start_ms: 82060\n  end_ms: 85520\n- text: When they realize I'm not finished\n  start_ms: 85520\n  end_ms: 87410\n- text: I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  start_ms: 87410\n  end_ms: 90050\n- text: Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  start_ms: 90050\n  end_ms: 92440\n- text: Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  start_ms: 92440\n  end_ms: 94980\n- text: Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  start_ms: 94980\n  end_ms: 96550\n- text: Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  start_ms: 96550\n  end_ms: 99490\n- text: Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n  start_ms: 99490\n  end_ms: 102020\n- text: That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  start_ms: 102020\n  end_ms: 104780\n- text: The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  start_ms: 104780\n  end_ms: 107530\n- text: Carats shine, the world all mine\n  start_ms: 107530\n  end_ms: 109680\n- text: Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  start_ms: 109680\n  end_ms: 112150\n- text: Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  start_ms: 112150\n  end_ms: 114930\n- text: Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  start_ms: 114930\n  end_ms: 117870\n- text: Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  start_ms: 117870\n  end_ms: 119970\n- text: We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  start_ms: 119970\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127560\n- text: Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  start_ms: 127560\n  end_ms: 130050\n- text: Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  start_ms: 130050\n  end_ms: 132460\n- text: Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  start_ms: 132460\n  end_ms: 134620\n- text: What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  start_ms: 134620\n  end_ms: 136890\n- text: (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  start_ms: 136890\n  end_ms: 139430\n- text: Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  start_ms: 139430\n  end_ms: 141750\n- text: Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  start_ms: 141750\n  end_ms: 144440\n- text: Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  start_ms: 144440\n  end_ms: 147180\n- text: And while you down there, suck my dick\n  start_ms: 147180\n  end_ms: 149230\n- text: My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  start_ms: 149230\n  end_ms: 152720\n- text: MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  start_ms: 152720\n  end_ms: 155440\n- text: I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  start_ms: 155440\n  end_ms: 157700\n- text: Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  start_ms: 157700\n  end_ms: 159680\n- text: Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  start_ms: 159680\n  end_ms: 162270\n- text: I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  start_ms: 162270\n  end_ms: 164820\n- text: Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  start_ms: 164820\n  end_ms: 167630\n- text: I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  start_ms: 167630\n  end_ms: 170420\n- text: Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  start_ms: 170420\n  end_ms: 173010\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  start_ms: 173010\n  end_ms: 175390\n- text: Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  start_ms: 175390\n  end_ms: 177910\n- text: Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  start_ms: 177910\n  end_ms: 180330\n- text: Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n  start_ms: 180330\n  end_ms: 182770\n- text: Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  start_ms: 182770\n  end_ms: 185250\n- text: Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  start_ms: 185250\n  end_ms: 187820\n- text: Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  start_ms: 187820\n  end_ms: 190220\n- text: '\"Are y''all really holdin'' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"'\n  start_ms: 190220\n  end_ms: 192680\n- text: Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  start_ms: 192680\n  end_ms: 196190\n- text: Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  start_ms: 196190\n  end_ms: 199000\n- text: Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  start_ms: 199000\n  end_ms: 201830\n- text: Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  start_ms: 201830\n  end_ms: 203960\n- text: You gon' get yours to the heart\n  start_ms: 203960\n  end_ms: 205960\n- text: Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n  start_ms: 205960\n  end_ms: 209590\n- text: Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  start_ms: 209590\n  end_ms: 213120\n- text: I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  start_ms: 213120\n  end_ms: 215680\n- text: When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  start_ms: 215680\n  end_ms: 218280\n- text: But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  start_ms: 218280\n  end_ms: 220760\n- text: Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 220760\n  end_ms: 224030\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 224030\n  end_ms: 244130\n- text: Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 244130\n  end_ms: 247130\n- text: Where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 247130\n  end_ms: 251740\n- text: All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  start_ms: 251740\n  end_ms: 253770\n- text: Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  start_ms: 253770\n  end_ms: 256450\n- text: Make some noise\n  start_ms: 256450\n  end_ms: 260490\n- text: Check this shit out\n  start_ms: 260490\n  end_ms: 261380\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 261380\nplain: |-\n  Bitch!\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  Brick City, yo\n  (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  (This all gonna pass)\n\n  Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\n  Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  Down South, the 44 feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  Westside highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  I know my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\n  That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  Carats shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\n  Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n  Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  You gon' get yours to the heart\n  Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\n  Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\n  Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  Make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":40160281,"name":"4 Seasons (Album Version (Explicit))","trackName":"4 Seasons (Album Version (Explicit))","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout! [Explicit]","duration":261.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch!\n(This all gonna pass)\n(This all gonna pass)\nBrick City, yo\n(This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n(This all gonna pass)\n\nFunk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\nThe rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\nDoc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\nFire thrown to the roof of your apartment\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\nDown South, the 44 feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWestside highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\nWhen I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\nI'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\nI know my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper games, come on, run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\nBeen eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\nPlatinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\nSippin' rainbow-colored drinks\nBlack thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\nThat's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\nCarats shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\nThem gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\nThink Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow, four corners, four seasons (uh)\nFour MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\nDeep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\nStill foul, crimi-niminal, individual\nSing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\nToo many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\nPut that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\nBe easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\nNor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\nNiggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n\"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\nJa the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\nMaybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\nAmongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\nNiggas can't deal with, try it (players)\nYou gon' get yours to the heart\nLesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\nHot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\nI'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\nWhen they ride dick so well, head game from hell\nBut I love makin' 'em yell, my name\nRule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\nYo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nClean underwear and she don't need welfare\nMake some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.24] Bitch!\n[00:04.85] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:09.94] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:13.58] Brick City, yo\n[00:14.84] (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n[00:20.01] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:20.67] Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n[00:23.82] The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n[00:26.32] I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n[00:29.04] For money, to your house arrest anklet\n[00:31.46] I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n[00:34.27] Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n[00:36.89] I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n[00:38.88] Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n[00:41.32] Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n[00:43.52] Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n[00:46.78] Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n[00:49.18] Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n[00:52.20] Down South, the 44 feela\n[00:54.10] I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n[00:56.76] I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n[00:59.63] Westside highway running, homo nigga\n[01:01.66] I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n[01:05.12] I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n[01:07.45] When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n[01:09.85] I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n[01:12.48] I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n[01:14.87] I know my longevity confuse ya\n[01:17.26] Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n[01:19.77] Recognize the power of the royal King James\n[01:22.06] Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n[01:25.52] When they realize I'm not finished\n[01:27.41] I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n[01:30.05] Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n[01:32.44] Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n[01:34.98] Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n[01:36.55] Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n[01:39.49] Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n[01:42.02] That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n[01:44.78] The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n[01:47.53] Carats shine, the world all mine\n[01:49.68] Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n[01:52.15] Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n[01:54.93] Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n[01:57.87] Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n[01:59.97] We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n[02:02.45] The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n[02:04.76] Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n[02:07.56] Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n[02:10.05] Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n[02:12.46] Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n[02:14.62] What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n[02:16.89] (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n[02:19.43] Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n[02:21.75] Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n[02:24.44] Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n[02:27.18] And while you down there, suck my dick\n[02:29.23] My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n[02:32.72] MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n[02:35.44] I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n[02:37.70] Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n[02:39.68] Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n[02:42.27] I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n[02:44.82] Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n[02:47.63] I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n[02:50.42] Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n[02:53.01] Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n[02:55.39] Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n[02:57.91] Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n[03:00.33] Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n[03:02.77] Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n[03:05.25] Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n[03:07.82] Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n[03:10.22] \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n[03:12.68] Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n[03:16.19] Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n[03:19.00] Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n[03:21.83] Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n[03:23.96] You gon' get yours to the heart\n[03:25.96] Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n[03:29.59] Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n[03:33.12] I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n[03:35.68] When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n[03:38.28] But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n[03:40.76] Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n[03:44.03] \n[04:04.13] Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n[04:07.13] Where all the ladies at?\n[04:11.74] All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n[04:13.77] Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n[04:16.45] Make some noise\n[04:20.49] Check this shit out\n[04:21.38] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons (Album Version (Explicit))\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout! [Explicit]\n  duration_ms: 261387\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch!\n  start_ms: 240\n  end_ms: 4850\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 4850\n  end_ms: 9940\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 9940\n  end_ms: 13580\n- text: Brick City, yo\n  start_ms: 13580\n  end_ms: 14840\n- text: (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  start_ms: 14840\n  end_ms: 20010\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 20010\n  end_ms: 20670\n- text: Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  start_ms: 20670\n  end_ms: 23820\n- text: The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  start_ms: 23820\n  end_ms: 26320\n- text: I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  start_ms: 26320\n  end_ms: 29040\n- text: For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  start_ms: 29040\n  end_ms: 31460\n- text: I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  start_ms: 31460\n  end_ms: 34270\n- text: Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  start_ms: 34270\n  end_ms: 36890\n- text: I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  start_ms: 36890\n  end_ms: 38880\n- text: Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  start_ms: 38880\n  end_ms: 41320\n- text: Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  start_ms: 41320\n  end_ms: 43520\n- text: Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  start_ms: 43520\n  end_ms: 46780\n- text: Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  start_ms: 46780\n  end_ms: 49180\n- text: Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  start_ms: 49180\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Down South, the 44 feela\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 54100\n- text: I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  start_ms: 54100\n  end_ms: 56760\n- text: I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  start_ms: 56760\n  end_ms: 59630\n- text: Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  start_ms: 59630\n  end_ms: 61660\n- text: I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  start_ms: 61660\n  end_ms: 65120\n- text: I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  start_ms: 65120\n  end_ms: 67450\n- text: When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  start_ms: 67450\n  end_ms: 69850\n- text: I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  start_ms: 69850\n  end_ms: 72480\n- text: I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  start_ms: 72480\n  end_ms: 74870\n- text: I know my longevity confuse ya\n  start_ms: 74870\n  end_ms: 77260\n- text: Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  start_ms: 77260\n  end_ms: 79770\n- text: Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  start_ms: 79770\n  end_ms: 82060\n- text: Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  start_ms: 82060\n  end_ms: 85520\n- text: When they realize I'm not finished\n  start_ms: 85520\n  end_ms: 87410\n- text: I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  start_ms: 87410\n  end_ms: 90050\n- text: Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  start_ms: 90050\n  end_ms: 92440\n- text: Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  start_ms: 92440\n  end_ms: 94980\n- text: Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  start_ms: 94980\n  end_ms: 96550\n- text: Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  start_ms: 96550\n  end_ms: 99490\n- text: Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n  start_ms: 99490\n  end_ms: 102020\n- text: That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  start_ms: 102020\n  end_ms: 104780\n- text: The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  start_ms: 104780\n  end_ms: 107530\n- text: Carats shine, the world all mine\n  start_ms: 107530\n  end_ms: 109680\n- text: Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  start_ms: 109680\n  end_ms: 112150\n- text: Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  start_ms: 112150\n  end_ms: 114930\n- text: Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  start_ms: 114930\n  end_ms: 117870\n- text: Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  start_ms: 117870\n  end_ms: 119970\n- text: We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  start_ms: 119970\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127560\n- text: Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  start_ms: 127560\n  end_ms: 130050\n- text: Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  start_ms: 130050\n  end_ms: 132460\n- text: Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  start_ms: 132460\n  end_ms: 134620\n- text: What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  start_ms: 134620\n  end_ms: 136890\n- text: (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  start_ms: 136890\n  end_ms: 139430\n- text: Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  start_ms: 139430\n  end_ms: 141750\n- text: Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  start_ms: 141750\n  end_ms: 144440\n- text: Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  start_ms: 144440\n  end_ms: 147180\n- text: And while you down there, suck my dick\n  start_ms: 147180\n  end_ms: 149230\n- text: My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  start_ms: 149230\n  end_ms: 152720\n- text: MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  start_ms: 152720\n  end_ms: 155440\n- text: I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  start_ms: 155440\n  end_ms: 157700\n- text: Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  start_ms: 157700\n  end_ms: 159680\n- text: Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  start_ms: 159680\n  end_ms: 162270\n- text: I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  start_ms: 162270\n  end_ms: 164820\n- text: Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  start_ms: 164820\n  end_ms: 167630\n- text: I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  start_ms: 167630\n  end_ms: 170420\n- text: Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  start_ms: 170420\n  end_ms: 173010\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  start_ms: 173010\n  end_ms: 175390\n- text: Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  start_ms: 175390\n  end_ms: 177910\n- text: Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  start_ms: 177910\n  end_ms: 180330\n- text: Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n  start_ms: 180330\n  end_ms: 182770\n- text: Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  start_ms: 182770\n  end_ms: 185250\n- text: Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  start_ms: 185250\n  end_ms: 187820\n- text: Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  start_ms: 187820\n  end_ms: 190220\n- text: '\"Are y''all really holdin'' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"'\n  start_ms: 190220\n  end_ms: 192680\n- text: Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  start_ms: 192680\n  end_ms: 196190\n- text: Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  start_ms: 196190\n  end_ms: 199000\n- text: Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  start_ms: 199000\n  end_ms: 201830\n- text: Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  start_ms: 201830\n  end_ms: 203960\n- text: You gon' get yours to the heart\n  start_ms: 203960\n  end_ms: 205960\n- text: Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n  start_ms: 205960\n  end_ms: 209590\n- text: Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  start_ms: 209590\n  end_ms: 213120\n- text: I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  start_ms: 213120\n  end_ms: 215680\n- text: When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  start_ms: 215680\n  end_ms: 218280\n- text: But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  start_ms: 218280\n  end_ms: 220760\n- text: Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 220760\n  end_ms: 224030\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 224030\n  end_ms: 244130\n- text: Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 244130\n  end_ms: 247130\n- text: Where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 247130\n  end_ms: 251740\n- text: All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  start_ms: 251740\n  end_ms: 253770\n- text: Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  start_ms: 253770\n  end_ms: 256450\n- text: Make some noise\n  start_ms: 256450\n  end_ms: 260490\n- text: Check this shit out\n  start_ms: 260490\n  end_ms: 261380\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 261380\nplain: |-\n  Bitch!\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  Brick City, yo\n  (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  (This all gonna pass)\n\n  Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\n  Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  Down South, the 44 feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  Westside highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  I know my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\n  That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  Carats shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\n  Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n  Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  You gon' get yours to the heart\n  Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\n  Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\n  Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  Make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":14079064,"name":"5.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - 4 Seasons feat. Ja Rule & L.L. Cool J.","trackName":"5.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - 4 Seasons feat. Ja Rule & L.L. Cool J.","artistName":"Method Man","albumName":"Blackout","duration":261.2380999,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch\nBrick City, yo\n\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nAt 8 paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\n\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\nDoc serve to you to liquor in the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWest side highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\nLike they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\nPlatinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\nHoneys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\nThat's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarrots shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\nThink Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one, blaze one)\nBlaze one, blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow four corners, 4 seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\n\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\nSing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\nJa the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n(Hataz)\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\n\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWe ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\nYo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nThe clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 5.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - 4 Seasons feat. Ja Rule & L.L. Cool J.\n  artist: Method Man\n  album: Blackout\n  duration_ms: 261238\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch\n  Brick City, yo\n\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  At 8 paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\n  Doc serve to you to liquor in the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  West side highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\n  Like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\n  Platinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\n  Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\n  That's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carrots shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\n  Think Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one, blaze one)\n  Blaze one, blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now four corners, 4 seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\n  Sing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\n  Ja the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n  (Hataz)\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  We ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\n  Yo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  The clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":17198300,"name":"4 Seasons (featuring Ja Rule a","trackName":"4 Seasons (featuring Ja Rule a","artistName":"Method Man Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":261.363063,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch!\n(This all gonna pass)\n(This all gonna pass)\nBrick City, yo\n(This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n(This all gonna pass)\n\nFunk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\nThe rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\nDoc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\nFire thrown to the roof of your apartment\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\nDown South, the 44 feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWestside highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\nWhen I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\nI'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\nI know my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper games, come on, run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\nBeen eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\nPlatinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\nSippin' rainbow-colored drinks\nBlack thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\nThat's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\nCarats shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\nThem gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\nThink Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow, four corners, four seasons (uh)\nFour MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\nDeep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\nStill foul, crimi-niminal, individual\nSing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\nToo many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\nPut that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\nBe easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\nNor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\nNiggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n\"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\nJa the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\nMaybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\nAmongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\nNiggas can't deal with, try it (players)\nYou gon' get yours to the heart\nLesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\nHot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\nI'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\nWhen they ride dick so well, head game from hell\nBut I love makin' 'em yell, my name\nRule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\nYo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nClean underwear and she don't need welfare\nMake some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.22] Bitch!\n[00:04.83] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:09.93] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:13.51] Brick City, yo\n[00:14.88] (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n[00:20.03] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:20.63] Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n[00:23.84] The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n[00:26.38] I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n[00:29.06] For money, to your house arrest anklet\n[00:31.50] I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n[00:34.25] Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n[00:36.89] I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n[00:38.87] Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n[00:41.39] Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n[00:43.59] Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n[00:46.70] Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n[00:49.13] Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n[00:52.27] Down South, the 44 feela\n[00:54.17] I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n[00:56.76] I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n[00:59.62] Westside highway running, homo nigga\n[01:01.64] I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n[01:05.12] I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n[01:07.47] When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n[01:09.81] I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n[01:12.45] I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n[01:14.88] I know my longevity confuse ya\n[01:17.24] Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n[01:19.80] Recognize the power of the royal King James\n[01:22.06] Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n[01:25.56] When they realize I'm not finished\n[01:27.42] I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n[01:30.08] Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n[01:32.48] Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n[01:34.99] Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n[01:36.52] Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n[01:39.41] Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n[01:42.03] That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n[01:44.79] The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n[01:47.56] Carats shine, the world all mine\n[01:49.63] Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n[01:52.13] Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n[01:54.96] Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n[01:57.71] Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n[01:59.91] We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n[02:02.45] The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n[02:04.71] Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n[02:07.54] Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n[02:09.62] Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n[02:12.47] Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n[02:14.62] What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n[02:16.84] (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n[02:19.43] Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n[02:21.73] Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n[02:24.41] Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n[02:27.15] And while you down there, suck my dick\n[02:29.29] My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n[02:32.71] MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n[02:35.48] I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n[02:37.79] Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n[02:39.66] Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n[02:42.25] I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n[02:44.89] Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n[02:47.65] I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n[02:50.41] Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n[02:53.10] Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n[02:55.35] Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n[02:57.93] Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n[03:00.32] Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n[03:02.74] Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n[03:05.28] Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n[03:07.84] Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n[03:10.29] \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n[03:12.65] Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n[03:16.15] Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n[03:19.09] Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n[03:21.90] Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n[03:23.96] You gon' get yours to the heart\n[03:25.95] Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n[03:29.52] Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n[03:33.13] I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n[03:35.67] When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n[03:38.25] But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n[03:40.75] Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n[03:44.03] \n[04:04.10] Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n[04:07.17] Where all the ladies at?\n[04:11.71] All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n[04:13.79] Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n[04:16.46] Make some noise\n[04:20.19] Check this shit out\n[04:20.78] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons (featuring Ja Rule a\n  artist: Method Man Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 261363\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch!\n  start_ms: 220\n  end_ms: 4830\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 4830\n  end_ms: 9930\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 9930\n  end_ms: 13510\n- text: Brick City, yo\n  start_ms: 13510\n  end_ms: 14880\n- text: (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  start_ms: 14880\n  end_ms: 20030\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 20030\n  end_ms: 20630\n- text: Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  start_ms: 20630\n  end_ms: 23840\n- text: The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  start_ms: 23840\n  end_ms: 26380\n- text: I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  start_ms: 26380\n  end_ms: 29060\n- text: For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  start_ms: 29060\n  end_ms: 31500\n- text: I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  start_ms: 31500\n  end_ms: 34250\n- text: Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  start_ms: 34250\n  end_ms: 36890\n- text: I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  start_ms: 36890\n  end_ms: 38870\n- text: Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  start_ms: 38870\n  end_ms: 41390\n- text: Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  start_ms: 41390\n  end_ms: 43590\n- text: Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  start_ms: 43590\n  end_ms: 46700\n- text: Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  start_ms: 46700\n  end_ms: 49130\n- text: Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  start_ms: 49130\n  end_ms: 52270\n- text: Down South, the 44 feela\n  start_ms: 52270\n  end_ms: 54170\n- text: I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  start_ms: 54170\n  end_ms: 56760\n- text: I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  start_ms: 56760\n  end_ms: 59620\n- text: Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  start_ms: 59620\n  end_ms: 61640\n- text: I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  start_ms: 61640\n  end_ms: 65120\n- text: I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  start_ms: 65120\n  end_ms: 67470\n- text: When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  start_ms: 67470\n  end_ms: 69810\n- text: I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  start_ms: 69810\n  end_ms: 72450\n- text: I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  start_ms: 72450\n  end_ms: 74880\n- text: I know my longevity confuse ya\n  start_ms: 74880\n  end_ms: 77240\n- text: Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  start_ms: 77240\n  end_ms: 79800\n- text: Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  start_ms: 79800\n  end_ms: 82060\n- text: Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  start_ms: 82060\n  end_ms: 85560\n- text: When they realize I'm not finished\n  start_ms: 85560\n  end_ms: 87420\n- text: I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  start_ms: 87420\n  end_ms: 90080\n- text: Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  start_ms: 90080\n  end_ms: 92480\n- text: Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  start_ms: 92480\n  end_ms: 94990\n- text: Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  start_ms: 94990\n  end_ms: 96520\n- text: Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  start_ms: 96520\n  end_ms: 99410\n- text: Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n  start_ms: 99410\n  end_ms: 102030\n- text: That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  start_ms: 102030\n  end_ms: 104790\n- text: The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  start_ms: 104790\n  end_ms: 107560\n- text: Carats shine, the world all mine\n  start_ms: 107560\n  end_ms: 109630\n- text: Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  start_ms: 109630\n  end_ms: 112130\n- text: Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  start_ms: 112130\n  end_ms: 114960\n- text: Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  start_ms: 114960\n  end_ms: 117710\n- text: Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  start_ms: 117710\n  end_ms: 119910\n- text: We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  start_ms: 119910\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124710\n- text: Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  start_ms: 124710\n  end_ms: 127540\n- text: Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  start_ms: 127540\n  end_ms: 129620\n- text: Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  start_ms: 129620\n  end_ms: 132470\n- text: Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  start_ms: 132470\n  end_ms: 134620\n- text: What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  start_ms: 134620\n  end_ms: 136840\n- text: (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  start_ms: 136840\n  end_ms: 139430\n- text: Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  start_ms: 139430\n  end_ms: 141730\n- text: Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  start_ms: 141730\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 147150\n- text: And while you down there, suck my dick\n  start_ms: 147150\n  end_ms: 149290\n- text: My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  start_ms: 149290\n  end_ms: 152710\n- text: MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  start_ms: 152710\n  end_ms: 155480\n- text: I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  start_ms: 155480\n  end_ms: 157790\n- text: Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  start_ms: 157790\n  end_ms: 159660\n- text: Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  start_ms: 159660\n  end_ms: 162250\n- text: I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  start_ms: 162250\n  end_ms: 164890\n- text: Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  start_ms: 164890\n  end_ms: 167650\n- text: I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  start_ms: 167650\n  end_ms: 170410\n- text: Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  start_ms: 170410\n  end_ms: 173100\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  start_ms: 173100\n  end_ms: 175350\n- text: Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  start_ms: 175350\n  end_ms: 177930\n- text: Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  start_ms: 177930\n  end_ms: 180320\n- text: Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n  start_ms: 180320\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 185280\n- text: Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  start_ms: 185280\n  end_ms: 187840\n- text: Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  start_ms: 187840\n  end_ms: 190290\n- text: '\"Are y''all really holdin'' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"'\n  start_ms: 190290\n  end_ms: 192650\n- text: Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  start_ms: 192650\n  end_ms: 196150\n- text: Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  start_ms: 196150\n  end_ms: 199090\n- text: Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  start_ms: 199090\n  end_ms: 201900\n- text: Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  start_ms: 201900\n  end_ms: 203960\n- text: You gon' get yours to the heart\n  start_ms: 203960\n  end_ms: 205950\n- text: Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n  start_ms: 205950\n  end_ms: 209520\n- text: Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  start_ms: 209520\n  end_ms: 213130\n- text: I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  start_ms: 213130\n  end_ms: 215670\n- text: When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  start_ms: 215670\n  end_ms: 218250\n- text: But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  start_ms: 218250\n  end_ms: 220750\n- text: Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 220750\n  end_ms: 224030\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 224030\n  end_ms: 244100\n- text: Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 244100\n  end_ms: 247170\n- text: Where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 247170\n  end_ms: 251710\n- text: All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  start_ms: 251710\n  end_ms: 253790\n- text: Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  start_ms: 253790\n  end_ms: 256460\n- text: Make some noise\n  start_ms: 256460\n  end_ms: 260190\n- text: Check this shit out\n  start_ms: 260190\n  end_ms: 260780\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 260780\nplain: |-\n  Bitch!\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  Brick City, yo\n  (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  (This all gonna pass)\n\n  Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\n  Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  Down South, the 44 feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  Westside highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  I know my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\n  That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  Carats shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\n  Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n  Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  You gon' get yours to the heart\n  Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\n  Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\n  Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  Make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":23629001,"name":"4 Seasons (Featuring Ja Rule A","trackName":"4 Seasons (Featuring Ja Rule A","artistName":"method man redman","albumName":"http://urbanmuzikfanatik.blogspot.com/","duration":261.642449,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch!\n(This all gonna pass)\n(This all gonna pass)\nBrick City, yo\n(This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n(This all gonna pass)\n\nFunk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\nThe rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\nDoc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\nFire thrown to the roof of your apartment\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\nDown South, the 44 feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWestside highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\nWhen I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\nI'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\nI know my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper games, come on, run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\nBeen eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\nPlatinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\nSippin' rainbow-colored drinks\nBlack thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\nThat's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\nCarats shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\nThem gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\nThink Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow, four corners, four seasons (uh)\nFour MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\nDeep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\nStill foul, crimi-niminal, individual\nSing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\nToo many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\nPut that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\nBe easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\nNor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\nNiggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n\"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\nJa the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\nMaybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\nAmongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\nNiggas can't deal with, try it (players)\nYou gon' get yours to the heart\nLesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\nHot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\nI'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\nWhen they ride dick so well, head game from hell\nBut I love makin' 'em yell, my name\nRule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\nYo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nClean underwear and she don't need welfare\nMake some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.22] Bitch!\n[00:04.83] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:09.93] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:13.51] Brick City, yo\n[00:14.88] (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n[00:20.03] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:20.63] Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n[00:23.84] The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n[00:26.38] I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n[00:29.06] For money, to your house arrest anklet\n[00:31.50] I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n[00:34.25] Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n[00:36.89] I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n[00:38.87] Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n[00:41.39] Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n[00:43.59] Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n[00:46.70] Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n[00:49.13] Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n[00:52.27] Down South, the 44 feela\n[00:54.17] I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n[00:56.76] I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n[00:59.62] Westside highway running, homo nigga\n[01:01.64] I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n[01:05.12] I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n[01:07.47] When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n[01:09.81] I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n[01:12.45] I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n[01:14.88] I know my longevity confuse ya\n[01:17.24] Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n[01:19.80] Recognize the power of the royal King James\n[01:22.06] Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n[01:25.56] When they realize I'm not finished\n[01:27.42] I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n[01:30.08] Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n[01:32.48] Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n[01:34.99] Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n[01:36.52] Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n[01:39.41] Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n[01:42.03] That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n[01:44.79] The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n[01:47.56] Carats shine, the world all mine\n[01:49.63] Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n[01:52.13] Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n[01:54.96] Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n[01:57.71] Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n[01:59.91] We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n[02:02.45] The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n[02:04.71] Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n[02:07.54] Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n[02:09.62] Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n[02:12.47] Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n[02:14.62] What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n[02:16.84] (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n[02:19.43] Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n[02:21.73] Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n[02:24.41] Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n[02:27.15] And while you down there, suck my dick\n[02:29.29] My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n[02:32.71] MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n[02:35.48] I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n[02:37.79] Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n[02:39.66] Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n[02:42.25] I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n[02:44.89] Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n[02:47.65] I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n[02:50.41] Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n[02:53.10] Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n[02:55.35] Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n[02:57.93] Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n[03:00.32] Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n[03:02.74] Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n[03:05.28] Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n[03:07.84] Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n[03:10.29] \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n[03:12.65] Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n[03:16.15] Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n[03:19.09] Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n[03:21.90] Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n[03:23.96] You gon' get yours to the heart\n[03:25.95] Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n[03:29.52] Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n[03:33.13] I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n[03:35.67] When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n[03:38.25] But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n[03:40.75] Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n[03:44.03] \n[04:04.10] Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n[04:07.17] Where all the ladies at?\n[04:11.71] All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n[04:13.79] Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n[04:16.46] Make some noise\n[04:20.19] Check this shit out\n[04:20.78] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons (Featuring Ja Rule A\n  artist: method man redman\n  album: http://urbanmuzikfanatik.blogspot.com/\n  duration_ms: 261642\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch!\n  start_ms: 220\n  end_ms: 4830\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 4830\n  end_ms: 9930\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 9930\n  end_ms: 13510\n- text: Brick City, yo\n  start_ms: 13510\n  end_ms: 14880\n- text: (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  start_ms: 14880\n  end_ms: 20030\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 20030\n  end_ms: 20630\n- text: Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  start_ms: 20630\n  end_ms: 23840\n- text: The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  start_ms: 23840\n  end_ms: 26380\n- text: I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  start_ms: 26380\n  end_ms: 29060\n- text: For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  start_ms: 29060\n  end_ms: 31500\n- text: I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  start_ms: 31500\n  end_ms: 34250\n- text: Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  start_ms: 34250\n  end_ms: 36890\n- text: I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  start_ms: 36890\n  end_ms: 38870\n- text: Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  start_ms: 38870\n  end_ms: 41390\n- text: Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  start_ms: 41390\n  end_ms: 43590\n- text: Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  start_ms: 43590\n  end_ms: 46700\n- text: Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  start_ms: 46700\n  end_ms: 49130\n- text: Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  start_ms: 49130\n  end_ms: 52270\n- text: Down South, the 44 feela\n  start_ms: 52270\n  end_ms: 54170\n- text: I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  start_ms: 54170\n  end_ms: 56760\n- text: I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  start_ms: 56760\n  end_ms: 59620\n- text: Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  start_ms: 59620\n  end_ms: 61640\n- text: I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  start_ms: 61640\n  end_ms: 65120\n- text: I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  start_ms: 65120\n  end_ms: 67470\n- text: When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  start_ms: 67470\n  end_ms: 69810\n- text: I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  start_ms: 69810\n  end_ms: 72450\n- text: I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  start_ms: 72450\n  end_ms: 74880\n- text: I know my longevity confuse ya\n  start_ms: 74880\n  end_ms: 77240\n- text: Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  start_ms: 77240\n  end_ms: 79800\n- text: Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  start_ms: 79800\n  end_ms: 82060\n- text: Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  start_ms: 82060\n  end_ms: 85560\n- text: When they realize I'm not finished\n  start_ms: 85560\n  end_ms: 87420\n- text: I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  start_ms: 87420\n  end_ms: 90080\n- text: Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  start_ms: 90080\n  end_ms: 92480\n- text: Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  start_ms: 92480\n  end_ms: 94990\n- text: Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  start_ms: 94990\n  end_ms: 96520\n- text: Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  start_ms: 96520\n  end_ms: 99410\n- text: Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n  start_ms: 99410\n  end_ms: 102030\n- text: That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  start_ms: 102030\n  end_ms: 104790\n- text: The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  start_ms: 104790\n  end_ms: 107560\n- text: Carats shine, the world all mine\n  start_ms: 107560\n  end_ms: 109630\n- text: Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  start_ms: 109630\n  end_ms: 112130\n- text: Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  start_ms: 112130\n  end_ms: 114960\n- text: Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  start_ms: 114960\n  end_ms: 117710\n- text: Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  start_ms: 117710\n  end_ms: 119910\n- text: We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  start_ms: 119910\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124710\n- text: Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  start_ms: 124710\n  end_ms: 127540\n- text: Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  start_ms: 127540\n  end_ms: 129620\n- text: Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  start_ms: 129620\n  end_ms: 132470\n- text: Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  start_ms: 132470\n  end_ms: 134620\n- text: What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  start_ms: 134620\n  end_ms: 136840\n- text: (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  start_ms: 136840\n  end_ms: 139430\n- text: Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  start_ms: 139430\n  end_ms: 141730\n- text: Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  start_ms: 141730\n  end_ms: 144410\n- text: Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  start_ms: 144410\n  end_ms: 147150\n- text: And while you down there, suck my dick\n  start_ms: 147150\n  end_ms: 149290\n- text: My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  start_ms: 149290\n  end_ms: 152710\n- text: MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  start_ms: 152710\n  end_ms: 155480\n- text: I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  start_ms: 155480\n  end_ms: 157790\n- text: Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  start_ms: 157790\n  end_ms: 159660\n- text: Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  start_ms: 159660\n  end_ms: 162250\n- text: I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  start_ms: 162250\n  end_ms: 164890\n- text: Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  start_ms: 164890\n  end_ms: 167650\n- text: I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  start_ms: 167650\n  end_ms: 170410\n- text: Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  start_ms: 170410\n  end_ms: 173100\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  start_ms: 173100\n  end_ms: 175350\n- text: Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  start_ms: 175350\n  end_ms: 177930\n- text: Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  start_ms: 177930\n  end_ms: 180320\n- text: Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n  start_ms: 180320\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 185280\n- text: Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  start_ms: 185280\n  end_ms: 187840\n- text: Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  start_ms: 187840\n  end_ms: 190290\n- text: '\"Are y''all really holdin'' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"'\n  start_ms: 190290\n  end_ms: 192650\n- text: Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  start_ms: 192650\n  end_ms: 196150\n- text: Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  start_ms: 196150\n  end_ms: 199090\n- text: Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  start_ms: 199090\n  end_ms: 201900\n- text: Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  start_ms: 201900\n  end_ms: 203960\n- text: You gon' get yours to the heart\n  start_ms: 203960\n  end_ms: 205950\n- text: Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n  start_ms: 205950\n  end_ms: 209520\n- text: Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  start_ms: 209520\n  end_ms: 213130\n- text: I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  start_ms: 213130\n  end_ms: 215670\n- text: When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  start_ms: 215670\n  end_ms: 218250\n- text: But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  start_ms: 218250\n  end_ms: 220750\n- text: Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 220750\n  end_ms: 224030\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 224030\n  end_ms: 244100\n- text: Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 244100\n  end_ms: 247170\n- text: Where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 247170\n  end_ms: 251710\n- text: All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  start_ms: 251710\n  end_ms: 253790\n- text: Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  start_ms: 253790\n  end_ms: 256460\n- text: Make some noise\n  start_ms: 256460\n  end_ms: 260190\n- text: Check this shit out\n  start_ms: 260190\n  end_ms: 260780\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 260780\nplain: |-\n  Bitch!\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  Brick City, yo\n  (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  (This all gonna pass)\n\n  Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\n  Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  Down South, the 44 feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  Westside highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  I know my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\n  That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  Carats shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\n  Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n  Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  You gon' get yours to the heart\n  Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\n  Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\n  Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  Make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":24745225,"name":"4 Seasons (Feat Ja Rule And LL","trackName":"4 Seasons (Feat Ja Rule And LL","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout","duration":261.052208,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch!\n(This all gonna pass)\n(This all gonna pass)\nBrick City, yo\n(This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n(This all gonna pass)\n\nFunk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\nThe rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\nDoc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\nFire thrown to the roof of your apartment\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\nDown South, the 44 feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWestside highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\nWhen I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\nI'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\nI know my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper games, come on, run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\nBeen eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\nPlatinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\nSippin' rainbow-colored drinks\nBlack thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\nThat's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\nCarats shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\nThem gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\nThink Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow, four corners, four seasons (uh)\nFour MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\nDeep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\nStill foul, crimi-niminal, individual\nSing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\nToo many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\nPut that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\nBe easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\nNor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\nNiggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n\"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\nJa the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\nMaybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\nAmongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\nNiggas can't deal with, try it (players)\nYou gon' get yours to the heart\nLesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\nHot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\nI'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\nWhen they ride dick so well, head game from hell\nBut I love makin' 'em yell, my name\nRule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\nYo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nClean underwear and she don't need welfare\nMake some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.22] Bitch!\n[00:04.86] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:09.92] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:13.56] Brick City, yo\n[00:14.81] (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n[00:20.10] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:20.65] Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n[00:23.89] The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n[00:26.39] I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n[00:29.06] For money, to your house arrest anklet\n[00:31.45] I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n[00:34.25] Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n[00:36.84] I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n[00:38.84] Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n[00:41.39] Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n[00:43.55] Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n[00:46.71] Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n[00:49.17] Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n[00:52.22] Down South, the 44 feela\n[00:54.13] I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n[00:56.74] I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n[00:59.67] Westside highway running, homo nigga\n[01:01.67] I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n[01:05.19] I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n[01:07.48] When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n[01:09.82] I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n[01:12.42] I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n[01:14.88] I know my longevity confuse ya\n[01:17.29] Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n[01:19.71] Recognize the power of the royal King James\n[01:22.01] Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n[01:25.56] When they realize I'm not finished\n[01:27.44] I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n[01:30.06] Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n[01:32.43] Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n[01:34.96] Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n[01:36.56] Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n[01:39.49] Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n[01:42.08] That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n[01:44.76] The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n[01:47.57] Carats shine, the world all mine\n[01:49.67] Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n[01:52.12] Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n[01:54.92] Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n[01:57.76] Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n[01:59.94] We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n[02:02.49] The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n[02:04.76] Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n[02:07.59] Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n[02:09.62] Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n[02:12.48] Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n[02:14.64] What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n[02:16.89] (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n[02:19.46] Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n[02:21.73] Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n[02:24.47] Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n[02:27.18] And while you down there, suck my dick\n[02:29.26] My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n[02:32.77] MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n[02:35.46] I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n[02:37.76] Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n[02:39.67] Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n[02:42.23] I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n[02:44.89] Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n[02:47.64] I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n[02:50.45] Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n[02:53.05] Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n[02:55.38] Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n[02:57.94] Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n[03:00.32] Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n[03:02.74] Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n[03:05.20] Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n[03:07.88] Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n[03:10.28] \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n[03:12.63] Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n[03:16.14] Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n[03:19.02] Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n[03:21.82] Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n[03:23.99] You gon' get yours to the heart\n[03:25.92] Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n[03:29.54] Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n[03:33.17] I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n[03:35.66] When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n[03:38.22] But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n[03:40.72] Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n[03:44.03] \n[04:04.18] Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n[04:07.20] Where all the ladies at?\n[04:11.71] All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n[04:13.73] Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n[04:16.46] Make some noise\n[04:20.17] Check this shit out\n[04:20.80] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons (Feat Ja Rule And LL\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout\n  duration_ms: 261052\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch!\n  start_ms: 220\n  end_ms: 4860\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 4860\n  end_ms: 9920\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 9920\n  end_ms: 13560\n- text: Brick City, yo\n  start_ms: 13560\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 20100\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 20100\n  end_ms: 20650\n- text: Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  start_ms: 20650\n  end_ms: 23890\n- text: The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  start_ms: 23890\n  end_ms: 26390\n- text: I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  start_ms: 26390\n  end_ms: 29060\n- text: For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  start_ms: 29060\n  end_ms: 31450\n- text: I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  start_ms: 31450\n  end_ms: 34250\n- text: Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  start_ms: 34250\n  end_ms: 36840\n- text: I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  start_ms: 36840\n  end_ms: 38840\n- text: Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  start_ms: 38840\n  end_ms: 41390\n- text: Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  start_ms: 41390\n  end_ms: 43550\n- text: Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  start_ms: 43550\n  end_ms: 46710\n- text: Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  start_ms: 46710\n  end_ms: 49170\n- text: Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  start_ms: 49170\n  end_ms: 52220\n- text: Down South, the 44 feela\n  start_ms: 52220\n  end_ms: 54130\n- text: I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  start_ms: 54130\n  end_ms: 56740\n- text: I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  start_ms: 56740\n  end_ms: 59670\n- text: Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  start_ms: 59670\n  end_ms: 61670\n- text: I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  start_ms: 61670\n  end_ms: 65190\n- text: I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  start_ms: 65190\n  end_ms: 67480\n- text: When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  start_ms: 67480\n  end_ms: 69820\n- text: I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  start_ms: 69820\n  end_ms: 72420\n- text: I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  start_ms: 72420\n  end_ms: 74880\n- text: I know my longevity confuse ya\n  start_ms: 74880\n  end_ms: 77290\n- text: Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  start_ms: 77290\n  end_ms: 79710\n- text: Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  start_ms: 79710\n  end_ms: 82010\n- text: Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  start_ms: 82010\n  end_ms: 85560\n- text: When they realize I'm not finished\n  start_ms: 85560\n  end_ms: 87440\n- text: I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  start_ms: 87440\n  end_ms: 90060\n- text: Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  start_ms: 90060\n  end_ms: 92430\n- text: Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  start_ms: 92430\n  end_ms: 94960\n- text: Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  start_ms: 94960\n  end_ms: 96560\n- text: Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  start_ms: 96560\n  end_ms: 99490\n- text: Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n  start_ms: 99490\n  end_ms: 102080\n- text: That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  start_ms: 102080\n  end_ms: 104760\n- text: The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  start_ms: 104760\n  end_ms: 107570\n- text: Carats shine, the world all mine\n  start_ms: 107570\n  end_ms: 109670\n- text: Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  start_ms: 109670\n  end_ms: 112120\n- text: Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  start_ms: 112120\n  end_ms: 114920\n- text: Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  start_ms: 114920\n  end_ms: 117760\n- text: Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  start_ms: 117760\n  end_ms: 119940\n- text: We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  start_ms: 119940\n  end_ms: 122490\n- text: The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  start_ms: 122490\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127590\n- text: Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  start_ms: 127590\n  end_ms: 129620\n- text: Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  start_ms: 129620\n  end_ms: 132480\n- text: Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  start_ms: 132480\n  end_ms: 134640\n- text: What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  start_ms: 134640\n  end_ms: 136890\n- text: (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  start_ms: 136890\n  end_ms: 139460\n- text: Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  start_ms: 139460\n  end_ms: 141730\n- text: Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  start_ms: 141730\n  end_ms: 144470\n- text: Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  start_ms: 144470\n  end_ms: 147180\n- text: And while you down there, suck my dick\n  start_ms: 147180\n  end_ms: 149260\n- text: My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  start_ms: 149260\n  end_ms: 152770\n- text: MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  start_ms: 152770\n  end_ms: 155460\n- text: I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  start_ms: 155460\n  end_ms: 157760\n- text: Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  start_ms: 157760\n  end_ms: 159670\n- text: Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  start_ms: 159670\n  end_ms: 162230\n- text: I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  start_ms: 162230\n  end_ms: 164890\n- text: Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  start_ms: 164890\n  end_ms: 167640\n- text: I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  start_ms: 167640\n  end_ms: 170450\n- text: Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  start_ms: 170450\n  end_ms: 173050\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  start_ms: 173050\n  end_ms: 175380\n- text: Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  start_ms: 175380\n  end_ms: 177940\n- text: Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  start_ms: 177940\n  end_ms: 180320\n- text: Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n  start_ms: 180320\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 185200\n- text: Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  start_ms: 185200\n  end_ms: 187880\n- text: Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  start_ms: 187880\n  end_ms: 190280\n- text: '\"Are y''all really holdin'' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"'\n  start_ms: 190280\n  end_ms: 192630\n- text: Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  start_ms: 192630\n  end_ms: 196140\n- text: Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  start_ms: 196140\n  end_ms: 199020\n- text: Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  start_ms: 199020\n  end_ms: 201820\n- text: Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  start_ms: 201820\n  end_ms: 203990\n- text: You gon' get yours to the heart\n  start_ms: 203990\n  end_ms: 205920\n- text: Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n  start_ms: 205920\n  end_ms: 209540\n- text: Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  start_ms: 209540\n  end_ms: 213170\n- text: I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  start_ms: 213170\n  end_ms: 215660\n- text: When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  start_ms: 215660\n  end_ms: 218220\n- text: But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  start_ms: 218220\n  end_ms: 220720\n- text: Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 220720\n  end_ms: 224030\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 224030\n  end_ms: 244180\n- text: Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 244180\n  end_ms: 247200\n- text: Where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 247200\n  end_ms: 251710\n- text: All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  start_ms: 251710\n  end_ms: 253730\n- text: Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  start_ms: 253730\n  end_ms: 256460\n- text: Make some noise\n  start_ms: 256460\n  end_ms: 260170\n- text: Check this shit out\n  start_ms: 260170\n  end_ms: 260800\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 260800\nplain: |-\n  Bitch!\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  Brick City, yo\n  (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  (This all gonna pass)\n\n  Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\n  Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  Down South, the 44 feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  Westside highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  I know my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\n  That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  Carats shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\n  Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n  Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  You gon' get yours to the heart\n  Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\n  Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\n  Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  Make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":29896005,"name":"4 Seasons (Feat. LL Cool J & Ja Rule)","trackName":"4 Seasons (Feat. LL Cool J & Ja Rule)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":261.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch!\n(This all gonna pass)\n(This all gonna pass)\nBrick City, yo\n(This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n(This all gonna pass)\n\nFunk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\nThe rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\nDoc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\nFire thrown to the roof of your apartment\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\nDown South, the 44 feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWestside highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\nWhen I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\nI'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\nI know my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper games, come on, run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\nBeen eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\nPlatinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\nSippin' rainbow-colored drinks\nBlack thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\nThat's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\nCarats shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\nThem gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\nThink Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow, four corners, four seasons (uh)\nFour MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\nDeep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\nStill foul, crimi-niminal, individual\nSing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\nToo many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\nPut that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\nBe easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\nNor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\nNiggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n\"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\nJa the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\nMaybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\nAmongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\nNiggas can't deal with, try it (players)\nYou gon' get yours to the heart\nLesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\nHot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\nI'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\nWhen they ride dick so well, head game from hell\nBut I love makin' 'em yell, my name\nRule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\nYo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nClean underwear and she don't need welfare\nMake some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.22] Bitch!\n[00:04.86] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:09.92] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:13.56] Brick City, yo\n[00:14.81] (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n[00:20.10] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:20.65] Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n[00:23.89] The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n[00:26.39] I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n[00:29.06] For money, to your house arrest anklet\n[00:31.45] I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n[00:34.25] Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n[00:36.84] I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n[00:38.84] Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n[00:41.39] Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n[00:43.55] Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n[00:46.71] Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n[00:49.17] Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n[00:52.22] Down South, the 44 feela\n[00:54.13] I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n[00:56.74] I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n[00:59.67] Westside highway running, homo nigga\n[01:01.67] I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n[01:05.19] I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n[01:07.48] When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n[01:09.82] I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n[01:12.42] I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n[01:14.88] I know my longevity confuse ya\n[01:17.29] Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n[01:19.71] Recognize the power of the royal King James\n[01:22.01] Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n[01:25.56] When they realize I'm not finished\n[01:27.44] I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n[01:30.06] Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n[01:32.43] Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n[01:34.96] Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n[01:36.56] Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n[01:39.49] Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n[01:42.08] That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n[01:44.76] The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n[01:47.57] Carats shine, the world all mine\n[01:49.67] Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n[01:52.12] Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n[01:54.92] Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n[01:57.76] Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n[01:59.94] We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n[02:02.49] The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n[02:04.76] Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n[02:07.59] Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n[02:09.62] Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n[02:12.48] Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n[02:14.64] What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n[02:16.89] (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n[02:19.46] Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n[02:21.73] Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n[02:24.47] Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n[02:27.18] And while you down there, suck my dick\n[02:29.26] My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n[02:32.77] MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n[02:35.46] I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n[02:37.76] Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n[02:39.67] Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n[02:42.23] I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n[02:44.89] Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n[02:47.64] I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n[02:50.45] Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n[02:53.05] Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n[02:55.38] Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n[02:57.94] Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n[03:00.32] Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n[03:02.74] Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n[03:05.20] Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n[03:07.88] Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n[03:10.28] \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n[03:12.63] Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n[03:16.14] Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n[03:19.02] Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n[03:21.82] Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n[03:23.99] You gon' get yours to the heart\n[03:25.92] Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n[03:29.54] Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n[03:33.17] I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n[03:35.66] When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n[03:38.22] But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n[03:40.72] Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n[03:44.03] \n[04:04.18] Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n[04:07.20] Where all the ladies at?\n[04:11.71] All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n[04:13.73] Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n[04:16.46] Make some noise\n[04:20.17] Check this shit out\n[04:20.80] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons (Feat. LL Cool J & Ja Rule)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 261000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch!\n  start_ms: 220\n  end_ms: 4860\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 4860\n  end_ms: 9920\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 9920\n  end_ms: 13560\n- text: Brick City, yo\n  start_ms: 13560\n  end_ms: 14810\n- text: (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  start_ms: 14810\n  end_ms: 20100\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 20100\n  end_ms: 20650\n- text: Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  start_ms: 20650\n  end_ms: 23890\n- text: The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  start_ms: 23890\n  end_ms: 26390\n- text: I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  start_ms: 26390\n  end_ms: 29060\n- text: For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  start_ms: 29060\n  end_ms: 31450\n- text: I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  start_ms: 31450\n  end_ms: 34250\n- text: Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  start_ms: 34250\n  end_ms: 36840\n- text: I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  start_ms: 36840\n  end_ms: 38840\n- text: Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  start_ms: 38840\n  end_ms: 41390\n- text: Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  start_ms: 41390\n  end_ms: 43550\n- text: Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  start_ms: 43550\n  end_ms: 46710\n- text: Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  start_ms: 46710\n  end_ms: 49170\n- text: Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  start_ms: 49170\n  end_ms: 52220\n- text: Down South, the 44 feela\n  start_ms: 52220\n  end_ms: 54130\n- text: I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  start_ms: 54130\n  end_ms: 56740\n- text: I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  start_ms: 56740\n  end_ms: 59670\n- text: Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  start_ms: 59670\n  end_ms: 61670\n- text: I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  start_ms: 61670\n  end_ms: 65190\n- text: I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  start_ms: 65190\n  end_ms: 67480\n- text: When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  start_ms: 67480\n  end_ms: 69820\n- text: I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  start_ms: 69820\n  end_ms: 72420\n- text: I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  start_ms: 72420\n  end_ms: 74880\n- text: I know my longevity confuse ya\n  start_ms: 74880\n  end_ms: 77290\n- text: Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  start_ms: 77290\n  end_ms: 79710\n- text: Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  start_ms: 79710\n  end_ms: 82010\n- text: Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  start_ms: 82010\n  end_ms: 85560\n- text: When they realize I'm not finished\n  start_ms: 85560\n  end_ms: 87440\n- text: I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  start_ms: 87440\n  end_ms: 90060\n- text: Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  start_ms: 90060\n  end_ms: 92430\n- text: Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  start_ms: 92430\n  end_ms: 94960\n- text: Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  start_ms: 94960\n  end_ms: 96560\n- text: Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  start_ms: 96560\n  end_ms: 99490\n- text: Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n  start_ms: 99490\n  end_ms: 102080\n- text: That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  start_ms: 102080\n  end_ms: 104760\n- text: The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  start_ms: 104760\n  end_ms: 107570\n- text: Carats shine, the world all mine\n  start_ms: 107570\n  end_ms: 109670\n- text: Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  start_ms: 109670\n  end_ms: 112120\n- text: Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  start_ms: 112120\n  end_ms: 114920\n- text: Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  start_ms: 114920\n  end_ms: 117760\n- text: Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  start_ms: 117760\n  end_ms: 119940\n- text: We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  start_ms: 119940\n  end_ms: 122490\n- text: The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  start_ms: 122490\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127590\n- text: Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  start_ms: 127590\n  end_ms: 129620\n- text: Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  start_ms: 129620\n  end_ms: 132480\n- text: Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  start_ms: 132480\n  end_ms: 134640\n- text: What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  start_ms: 134640\n  end_ms: 136890\n- text: (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  start_ms: 136890\n  end_ms: 139460\n- text: Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  start_ms: 139460\n  end_ms: 141730\n- text: Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  start_ms: 141730\n  end_ms: 144470\n- text: Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  start_ms: 144470\n  end_ms: 147180\n- text: And while you down there, suck my dick\n  start_ms: 147180\n  end_ms: 149260\n- text: My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  start_ms: 149260\n  end_ms: 152770\n- text: MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  start_ms: 152770\n  end_ms: 155460\n- text: I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  start_ms: 155460\n  end_ms: 157760\n- text: Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  start_ms: 157760\n  end_ms: 159670\n- text: Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  start_ms: 159670\n  end_ms: 162230\n- text: I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  start_ms: 162230\n  end_ms: 164890\n- text: Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  start_ms: 164890\n  end_ms: 167640\n- text: I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  start_ms: 167640\n  end_ms: 170450\n- text: Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  start_ms: 170450\n  end_ms: 173050\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  start_ms: 173050\n  end_ms: 175380\n- text: Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  start_ms: 175380\n  end_ms: 177940\n- text: Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  start_ms: 177940\n  end_ms: 180320\n- text: Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n  start_ms: 180320\n  end_ms: 182740\n- text: Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  start_ms: 182740\n  end_ms: 185200\n- text: Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  start_ms: 185200\n  end_ms: 187880\n- text: Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  start_ms: 187880\n  end_ms: 190280\n- text: '\"Are y''all really holdin'' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"'\n  start_ms: 190280\n  end_ms: 192630\n- text: Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  start_ms: 192630\n  end_ms: 196140\n- text: Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  start_ms: 196140\n  end_ms: 199020\n- text: Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  start_ms: 199020\n  end_ms: 201820\n- text: Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  start_ms: 201820\n  end_ms: 203990\n- text: You gon' get yours to the heart\n  start_ms: 203990\n  end_ms: 205920\n- text: Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n  start_ms: 205920\n  end_ms: 209540\n- text: Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  start_ms: 209540\n  end_ms: 213170\n- text: I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  start_ms: 213170\n  end_ms: 215660\n- text: When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  start_ms: 215660\n  end_ms: 218220\n- text: But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  start_ms: 218220\n  end_ms: 220720\n- text: Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 220720\n  end_ms: 224030\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 224030\n  end_ms: 244180\n- text: Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 244180\n  end_ms: 247200\n- text: Where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 247200\n  end_ms: 251710\n- text: All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  start_ms: 251710\n  end_ms: 253730\n- text: Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  start_ms: 253730\n  end_ms: 256460\n- text: Make some noise\n  start_ms: 256460\n  end_ms: 260170\n- text: Check this shit out\n  start_ms: 260170\n  end_ms: 260800\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 260800\nplain: |-\n  Bitch!\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  Brick City, yo\n  (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  (This all gonna pass)\n\n  Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\n  Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  Down South, the 44 feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  Westside highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  I know my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\n  That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  Carats shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\n  Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n  Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  You gon' get yours to the heart\n  Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\n  Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\n  Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  Make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":14376819,"name":"4 Seasons Ft. Ja Rule & LL Cool J","trackName":"4 Seasons Ft. Ja Rule & LL Cool J","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":261.8941249,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch\nBrick City, yo\n\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nAt 8 paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\n\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\nDoc serve to you to liquor in the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWest side highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\nLike they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\nPlatinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\nHoneys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\nThat's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarrots shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\nThink Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one, blaze one)\nBlaze one, blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow four corners, 4 seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\n\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\nSing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\nJa the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n(Hataz)\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\n\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWe ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\nYo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nThe clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons Ft. Ja Rule & LL Cool J\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 261894\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Bitch\n  Brick City, yo\n\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  At 8 paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\n  Doc serve to you to liquor in the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  West side highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\n  Like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\n  Platinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\n  Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\n  That's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carrots shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\n  Think Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one, blaze one)\n  Blaze one, blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now four corners, 4 seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\n  Sing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\n  Ja the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n  (Hataz)\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  We ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\n  Yo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  The clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":11041437,"name":"4 Seasons (feat. Ja Rule & LL Cool J)","trackName":"4 Seasons (feat. Ja Rule & LL Cool J)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout","duration":261.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch\nBrick City, yo\n\nYo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\nAt 8 paint chips the rare moon\nThat pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase\n\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\nDoc serve to you to liquor in the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\nFire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWest side highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\nWhen I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\nI'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\nI knew my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper game, come on run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\nLike they drinking Guinness\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\nBeen eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\nPlatinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\nHoneys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\nBlack thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\nThat's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\nCarrots shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\nThem gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\nThink Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one, blaze one)\nBlaze one, blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow four corners, 4 seasons\nFour MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is fuck it\n\nHit the smoke shop and blow my budget\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure\nDeep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\nSing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\nToo many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse\nPut that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\nEasy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\nNor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\nNiggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\nAre y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\nJa the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\nYour lil' man made me give him a lift\nSo you ridin' with gangstas\nI'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\nMurderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\nTry it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n(Hataz)\nLesson tonight by the four-four\nNiggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\nL.L. an Red\n\nJa Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\nSo bitches explain this\nWe ride dick so well, head game from hell\nI love making them yell, my name\nRule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\nYo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nThe clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.24] Bitch!\n[00:04.85] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:09.94] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:13.58] Brick City, yo\n[00:14.84] (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n[00:20.01] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:20.67] Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n[00:23.82] The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n[00:26.32] I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n[00:29.04] For money, to your house arrest anklet\n[00:31.46] I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n[00:34.27] Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n[00:36.89] I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n[00:38.88] Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n[00:41.32] Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n[00:43.52] Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n[00:46.78] Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n[00:49.18] Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n[00:52.20] Down South, the 44 feela\n[00:54.10] I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n[00:56.76] I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n[00:59.63] Westside highway running, homo nigga\n[01:01.66] I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n[01:05.12] I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n[01:07.45] When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n[01:09.85] I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n[01:12.48] I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n[01:14.87] I know my longevity confuse ya\n[01:17.26] Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n[01:19.77] Recognize the power of the royal King James\n[01:22.06] Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n[01:25.52] When they realize I'm not finished\n[01:27.41] I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n[01:30.05] Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n[01:32.44] Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n[01:34.98] Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n[01:36.55] Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n[01:39.49] Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n[01:42.02] That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n[01:44.78] The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n[01:47.53] Carats shine, the world all mine\n[01:49.68] Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n[01:52.15] Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n[01:54.93] Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n[01:57.87] Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n[01:59.97] We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n[02:02.45] The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n[02:04.76] Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n[02:07.56] Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n[02:10.05] Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n[02:12.46] Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n[02:14.62] What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n[02:16.89] (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n[02:19.43] Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n[02:21.75] Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n[02:24.44] Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n[02:27.18] And while you down there, suck my dick\n[02:29.23] My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n[02:32.72] MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n[02:35.44] I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n[02:37.70] Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n[02:39.68] Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n[02:42.27] I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n[02:44.82] Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n[02:47.63] I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n[02:50.42] Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n[02:53.01] Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n[02:55.39] Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n[02:57.91] Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n[03:00.33] Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n[03:02.77] Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n[03:05.25] Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n[03:07.82] Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n[03:10.22] \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n[03:12.68] Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n[03:16.19] Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n[03:19.00] Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n[03:21.83] Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n[03:23.96] You gon' get yours to the heart\n[03:25.96] Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n[03:29.59] Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n[03:33.12] I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n[03:35.68] When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n[03:38.28] But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n[03:40.76] Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n[03:44.03] \n[04:04.13] Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n[04:07.13] Where all the ladies at?\n[04:11.74] All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n[04:13.77] Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n[04:16.45] Make some noise\n[04:20.49] Check this shit out\n[04:21.38] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons (feat. Ja Rule & LL Cool J)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout\n  duration_ms: 261000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch!\n  start_ms: 240\n  end_ms: 4850\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 4850\n  end_ms: 9940\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 9940\n  end_ms: 13580\n- text: Brick City, yo\n  start_ms: 13580\n  end_ms: 14840\n- text: (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  start_ms: 14840\n  end_ms: 20010\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 20010\n  end_ms: 20670\n- text: Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  start_ms: 20670\n  end_ms: 23820\n- text: The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  start_ms: 23820\n  end_ms: 26320\n- text: I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  start_ms: 26320\n  end_ms: 29040\n- text: For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  start_ms: 29040\n  end_ms: 31460\n- text: I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  start_ms: 31460\n  end_ms: 34270\n- text: Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  start_ms: 34270\n  end_ms: 36890\n- text: I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  start_ms: 36890\n  end_ms: 38880\n- text: Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  start_ms: 38880\n  end_ms: 41320\n- text: Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  start_ms: 41320\n  end_ms: 43520\n- text: Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  start_ms: 43520\n  end_ms: 46780\n- text: Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  start_ms: 46780\n  end_ms: 49180\n- text: Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  start_ms: 49180\n  end_ms: 52200\n- text: Down South, the 44 feela\n  start_ms: 52200\n  end_ms: 54100\n- text: I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  start_ms: 54100\n  end_ms: 56760\n- text: I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  start_ms: 56760\n  end_ms: 59630\n- text: Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  start_ms: 59630\n  end_ms: 61660\n- text: I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  start_ms: 61660\n  end_ms: 65120\n- text: I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  start_ms: 65120\n  end_ms: 67450\n- text: When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  start_ms: 67450\n  end_ms: 69850\n- text: I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  start_ms: 69850\n  end_ms: 72480\n- text: I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  start_ms: 72480\n  end_ms: 74870\n- text: I know my longevity confuse ya\n  start_ms: 74870\n  end_ms: 77260\n- text: Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  start_ms: 77260\n  end_ms: 79770\n- text: Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  start_ms: 79770\n  end_ms: 82060\n- text: Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  start_ms: 82060\n  end_ms: 85520\n- text: When they realize I'm not finished\n  start_ms: 85520\n  end_ms: 87410\n- text: I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  start_ms: 87410\n  end_ms: 90050\n- text: Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  start_ms: 90050\n  end_ms: 92440\n- text: Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  start_ms: 92440\n  end_ms: 94980\n- text: Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  start_ms: 94980\n  end_ms: 96550\n- text: Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  start_ms: 96550\n  end_ms: 99490\n- text: Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n  start_ms: 99490\n  end_ms: 102020\n- text: That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  start_ms: 102020\n  end_ms: 104780\n- text: The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  start_ms: 104780\n  end_ms: 107530\n- text: Carats shine, the world all mine\n  start_ms: 107530\n  end_ms: 109680\n- text: Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  start_ms: 109680\n  end_ms: 112150\n- text: Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  start_ms: 112150\n  end_ms: 114930\n- text: Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  start_ms: 114930\n  end_ms: 117870\n- text: Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  start_ms: 117870\n  end_ms: 119970\n- text: We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  start_ms: 119970\n  end_ms: 122450\n- text: The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  start_ms: 122450\n  end_ms: 124760\n- text: Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  start_ms: 124760\n  end_ms: 127560\n- text: Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  start_ms: 127560\n  end_ms: 130050\n- text: Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  start_ms: 130050\n  end_ms: 132460\n- text: Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  start_ms: 132460\n  end_ms: 134620\n- text: What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  start_ms: 134620\n  end_ms: 136890\n- text: (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  start_ms: 136890\n  end_ms: 139430\n- text: Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  start_ms: 139430\n  end_ms: 141750\n- text: Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  start_ms: 141750\n  end_ms: 144440\n- text: Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  start_ms: 144440\n  end_ms: 147180\n- text: And while you down there, suck my dick\n  start_ms: 147180\n  end_ms: 149230\n- text: My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  start_ms: 149230\n  end_ms: 152720\n- text: MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  start_ms: 152720\n  end_ms: 155440\n- text: I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  start_ms: 155440\n  end_ms: 157700\n- text: Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  start_ms: 157700\n  end_ms: 159680\n- text: Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  start_ms: 159680\n  end_ms: 162270\n- text: I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  start_ms: 162270\n  end_ms: 164820\n- text: Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  start_ms: 164820\n  end_ms: 167630\n- text: I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  start_ms: 167630\n  end_ms: 170420\n- text: Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  start_ms: 170420\n  end_ms: 173010\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  start_ms: 173010\n  end_ms: 175390\n- text: Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  start_ms: 175390\n  end_ms: 177910\n- text: Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  start_ms: 177910\n  end_ms: 180330\n- text: Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n  start_ms: 180330\n  end_ms: 182770\n- text: Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  start_ms: 182770\n  end_ms: 185250\n- text: Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  start_ms: 185250\n  end_ms: 187820\n- text: Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  start_ms: 187820\n  end_ms: 190220\n- text: '\"Are y''all really holdin'' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"'\n  start_ms: 190220\n  end_ms: 192680\n- text: Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  start_ms: 192680\n  end_ms: 196190\n- text: Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  start_ms: 196190\n  end_ms: 199000\n- text: Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  start_ms: 199000\n  end_ms: 201830\n- text: Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  start_ms: 201830\n  end_ms: 203960\n- text: You gon' get yours to the heart\n  start_ms: 203960\n  end_ms: 205960\n- text: Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n  start_ms: 205960\n  end_ms: 209590\n- text: Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  start_ms: 209590\n  end_ms: 213120\n- text: I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  start_ms: 213120\n  end_ms: 215680\n- text: When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  start_ms: 215680\n  end_ms: 218280\n- text: But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  start_ms: 218280\n  end_ms: 220760\n- text: Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 220760\n  end_ms: 224030\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 224030\n  end_ms: 244130\n- text: Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 244130\n  end_ms: 247130\n- text: Where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 247130\n  end_ms: 251740\n- text: All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  start_ms: 251740\n  end_ms: 253770\n- text: Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  start_ms: 253770\n  end_ms: 256450\n- text: Make some noise\n  start_ms: 256450\n  end_ms: 260490\n- text: Check this shit out\n  start_ms: 260490\n  end_ms: 261380\nplain: |-\n  Bitch\n  Brick City, yo\n\n  Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young\n  At 8 paint chips the rare moon\n  That pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase\n\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8 1 8\n  Doc serve to you to liquor in the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya\n  Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment\n\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons, Down South, the forty-four feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  West side highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles, uh\n  When I battle, I'm breaking Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n\n  I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers\n  I knew my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper game, come on run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces\n  Like they drinking Guinness\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin', uh\n  Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin'\n\n  Platinum links, chicky-eyed blonde hair\n  Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks\n  Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifee over help her stretch out the kinks\n\n  That's why ya niggaz freeze when I step up in the building\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children\n  Carrots shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats is poppin' shit about papers in their rhymes\n\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti shot a tech\n  Them gangsta visions will have you ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We can do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alizae swigger, I clock twelve niggas\n  Think Goulianni's rough I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated until my mission's completed\n\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gonna do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one, blaze one)\n  Blaze one, blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now four corners, 4 seasons\n  Four MC's with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is fuck it\n\n  Hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hanging off the roof with one hand, losing my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now do you?\n\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure\n  Deep inside the mind is where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style, foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n\n  Sing a song a six street, pocket full of chits\n  Too many rappers be on John Gotti's dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse\n  Put that rap shit second and hip-hop first\n\n  Easy, ain't Nann niggas spitting like me\n  Nor Murderers motherfuckin' INC\n  Niggas will pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  Are y'all really holdin' weight or did somebody ask me?\n\n  Ja the myth, ready hand me the fifth let me explain\n  Your lil' man made me give him a lift\n  So you ridin' with gangstas\n  I'm up to a whole lot of other shit\n\n  Murderers is the clique, niggas can't deal with\n  Try it, you gonna get yours to the heart\n  (Hataz)\n  Lesson tonight by the four-four\n  Niggas want more than a little bit, hot shit\n  L.L. an Red\n\n  Ja Rule with Hot Nix I'm the best at that shit\n  So bitches explain this\n  We ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  I love making them yell, my name\n  Rule baby and ain't shit gon' change, uh, uh\n\n  Yo Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  The clean underwear and she don't need welfare, make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"},{"id":38419813,"name":"4 Seasons (ft. LL Cool J, Ja Rule)","trackName":"4 Seasons (ft. LL Cool J, Ja Rule)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":261.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Bitch!\n(This all gonna pass)\n(This all gonna pass)\nBrick City, yo\n(This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n(This all gonna pass)\n\nFunk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\nThe rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\nI battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\nFor money, to your house arrest anklet\nI take it all, if not, here's a thousand\nBricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\nI'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\nBlow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\nDoc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\nBattle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\nFire thrown to the roof of your apartment\nHit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\nDown South, the 44 feela\nI'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\nI'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\nWestside highway running, homo nigga\n\nI'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\nI empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\nWhen I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\nI got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\nI'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\nI know my longevity confuse ya\nBig paper games, come on, run into these flames\nRecognize the power of the royal King James\n\nPhantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\nWhen they realize I'm not finished\nI been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\nBeen eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\nPlatinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\nSippin' rainbow-colored drinks\nBlack thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\nBend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\nThat's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\nThe Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\nCarats shine, the world all mine\nCan't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\nOr bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\nThem gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\nCats ain't live, look up in my eyes\nWe could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\nThe Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\nThink Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\nNever been defeated, niggas retreated\nMade the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\nGet loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\nWhat the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n(Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\nBlaze, blaze, blaze one\n\nNow, four corners, four seasons (uh)\nFour MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\nAnd while you down there, suck my dick\nMy whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\nMC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\nI'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\nNow y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\nGo straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\nI do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\nDeep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\nI'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\nStill foul, crimi-niminal, individual\nSing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\nToo many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\nNow this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\nPut that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\nBe easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\nNor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\nNiggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n\"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\nJa the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\nMaybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\nAmongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\nNiggas can't deal with, try it (players)\nYou gon' get yours to the heart\nLesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\nHot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\nI'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\nWhen they ride dick so well, head game from hell\nBut I love makin' 'em yell, my name\nRule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\nYo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\nWhere all the ladies at?\nAll the ladies in the house with the real hair\nClean underwear and she don't need welfare\nMake some noise\nCheck this shit out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.22] Bitch!\n[00:04.85] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:09.98] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:13.55] Brick City, yo\n[00:14.84] (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n[00:20.04] (This all gonna pass)\n[00:20.68] Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n[00:23.86] The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n[00:26.35] I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n[00:29.08] For money, to your house arrest anklet\n[00:31.43] I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n[00:34.22] Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n[00:36.81] I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n[00:38.84] Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n[00:41.37] Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n[00:43.53] Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n[00:46.72] Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n[00:49.13] Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n[00:52.21] Down South, the 44 feela\n[00:54.18] I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n[00:56.72] I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n[00:59.64] Westside highway running, homo nigga\n[01:01.63] I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n[01:05.18] I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n[01:07.45] When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n[01:09.89] I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n[01:12.44] I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n[01:14.89] I know my longevity confuse ya\n[01:17.28] Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n[01:19.79] Recognize the power of the royal King James\n[01:22.09] Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n[01:25.50] When they realize I'm not finished\n[01:27.44] I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n[01:30.07] Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n[01:32.47] Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n[01:34.97] Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n[01:36.52] Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n[01:39.45] Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n[01:42.03] That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n[01:44.77] The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n[01:47.51] Carats shine, the world all mine\n[01:49.66] Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n[01:52.18] Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n[01:54.94] Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n[01:57.80] Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n[01:59.95] We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n[02:02.47] The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n[02:04.72] Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n[02:07.58] Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n[02:09.67] Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n[02:12.49] Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n[02:14.62] What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n[02:16.81] (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n[02:19.43] Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n[02:21.79] Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n[02:24.46] Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n[02:27.13] And while you down there, suck my dick\n[02:29.24] My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n[02:32.76] MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n[02:35.40] I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n[02:37.72] Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n[02:39.65] Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n[02:42.21] I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n[02:44.84] Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n[02:47.63] I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n[02:50.47] Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n[02:53.02] Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n[02:55.33] Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n[02:57.93] Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n[03:00.33] Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n[03:02.71] Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n[03:05.24] Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n[03:07.88] Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n[03:10.21] \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n[03:12.69] Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n[03:16.19] Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n[03:19.05] Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n[03:21.85] Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n[03:23.99] You gon' get yours to the heart\n[03:25.95] Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n[03:29.52] Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n[03:33.19] I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n[03:35.66] When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n[03:38.22] But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n[03:40.72] Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n[03:44.03] \n[04:04.14] Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n[04:07.19] Where all the ladies at?\n[04:11.75] All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n[04:13.78] Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n[04:16.44] Make some noise\n[04:20.15] Check this shit out\n[04:20.80] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 4 Seasons (ft. LL Cool J, Ja Rule)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 261000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Bitch!\n  start_ms: 220\n  end_ms: 4850\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 4850\n  end_ms: 9980\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 9980\n  end_ms: 13550\n- text: Brick City, yo\n  start_ms: 13550\n  end_ms: 14840\n- text: (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  start_ms: 14840\n  end_ms: 20040\n- text: (This all gonna pass)\n  start_ms: 20040\n  end_ms: 20680\n- text: Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  start_ms: 20680\n  end_ms: 23860\n- text: The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  start_ms: 23860\n  end_ms: 26350\n- text: I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  start_ms: 26350\n  end_ms: 29080\n- text: For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  start_ms: 29080\n  end_ms: 31430\n- text: I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  start_ms: 31430\n  end_ms: 34220\n- text: Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  start_ms: 34220\n  end_ms: 36810\n- text: I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  start_ms: 36810\n  end_ms: 38840\n- text: Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n  start_ms: 38840\n  end_ms: 41370\n- text: Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  start_ms: 41370\n  end_ms: 43530\n- text: Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  start_ms: 43530\n  end_ms: 46720\n- text: Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  start_ms: 46720\n  end_ms: 49130\n- text: Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  start_ms: 49130\n  end_ms: 52210\n- text: Down South, the 44 feela\n  start_ms: 52210\n  end_ms: 54180\n- text: I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  start_ms: 54180\n  end_ms: 56720\n- text: I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  start_ms: 56720\n  end_ms: 59640\n- text: Westside highway running, homo nigga\n  start_ms: 59640\n  end_ms: 61630\n- text: I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  start_ms: 61630\n  end_ms: 65180\n- text: I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  start_ms: 65180\n  end_ms: 67450\n- text: When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  start_ms: 67450\n  end_ms: 69890\n- text: I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  start_ms: 69890\n  end_ms: 72440\n- text: I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  start_ms: 72440\n  end_ms: 74890\n- text: I know my longevity confuse ya\n  start_ms: 74890\n  end_ms: 77280\n- text: Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  start_ms: 77280\n  end_ms: 79790\n- text: Recognize the power of the royal King James\n  start_ms: 79790\n  end_ms: 82090\n- text: Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  start_ms: 82090\n  end_ms: 85500\n- text: When they realize I'm not finished\n  start_ms: 85500\n  end_ms: 87440\n- text: I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  start_ms: 87440\n  end_ms: 90070\n- text: Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  start_ms: 90070\n  end_ms: 92470\n- text: Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  start_ms: 92470\n  end_ms: 94970\n- text: Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  start_ms: 94970\n  end_ms: 96520\n- text: Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  start_ms: 96520\n  end_ms: 99450\n- text: Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n  start_ms: 99450\n  end_ms: 102030\n- text: That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  start_ms: 102030\n  end_ms: 104770\n- text: The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  start_ms: 104770\n  end_ms: 107510\n- text: Carats shine, the world all mine\n  start_ms: 107510\n  end_ms: 109660\n- text: Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  start_ms: 109660\n  end_ms: 112180\n- text: Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  start_ms: 112180\n  end_ms: 114940\n- text: Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  start_ms: 114940\n  end_ms: 117800\n- text: Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  start_ms: 117800\n  end_ms: 119950\n- text: We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n  start_ms: 119950\n  end_ms: 122470\n- text: The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  start_ms: 122470\n  end_ms: 124720\n- text: Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  start_ms: 124720\n  end_ms: 127580\n- text: Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  start_ms: 127580\n  end_ms: 129670\n- text: Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  start_ms: 129670\n  end_ms: 132490\n- text: Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  start_ms: 132490\n  end_ms: 134620\n- text: What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  start_ms: 134620\n  end_ms: 136810\n- text: (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  start_ms: 136810\n  end_ms: 139430\n- text: Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n  start_ms: 139430\n  end_ms: 141790\n- text: Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  start_ms: 141790\n  end_ms: 144460\n- text: Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  start_ms: 144460\n  end_ms: 147130\n- text: And while you down there, suck my dick\n  start_ms: 147130\n  end_ms: 149240\n- text: My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  start_ms: 149240\n  end_ms: 152760\n- text: MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  start_ms: 152760\n  end_ms: 155400\n- text: I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  start_ms: 155400\n  end_ms: 157720\n- text: Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  start_ms: 157720\n  end_ms: 159650\n- text: Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n  start_ms: 159650\n  end_ms: 162210\n- text: I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  start_ms: 162210\n  end_ms: 164840\n- text: Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  start_ms: 164840\n  end_ms: 167630\n- text: I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  start_ms: 167630\n  end_ms: 170470\n- text: Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  start_ms: 170470\n  end_ms: 173020\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  start_ms: 173020\n  end_ms: 175330\n- text: Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  start_ms: 175330\n  end_ms: 177930\n- text: Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  start_ms: 177930\n  end_ms: 180330\n- text: Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n  start_ms: 180330\n  end_ms: 182710\n- text: Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  start_ms: 182710\n  end_ms: 185240\n- text: Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  start_ms: 185240\n  end_ms: 187880\n- text: Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  start_ms: 187880\n  end_ms: 190210\n- text: '\"Are y''all really holdin'' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"'\n  start_ms: 190210\n  end_ms: 192690\n- text: Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  start_ms: 192690\n  end_ms: 196190\n- text: Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  start_ms: 196190\n  end_ms: 199050\n- text: Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  start_ms: 199050\n  end_ms: 201850\n- text: Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  start_ms: 201850\n  end_ms: 203990\n- text: You gon' get yours to the heart\n  start_ms: 203990\n  end_ms: 205950\n- text: Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n  start_ms: 205950\n  end_ms: 209520\n- text: Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  start_ms: 209520\n  end_ms: 213190\n- text: I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  start_ms: 213190\n  end_ms: 215660\n- text: When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  start_ms: 215660\n  end_ms: 218220\n- text: But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  start_ms: 218220\n  end_ms: 220720\n- text: Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n  start_ms: 220720\n  end_ms: 224030\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 224030\n  end_ms: 244140\n- text: Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 244140\n  end_ms: 247190\n- text: Where all the ladies at?\n  start_ms: 247190\n  end_ms: 251750\n- text: All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  start_ms: 251750\n  end_ms: 253780\n- text: Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  start_ms: 253780\n  end_ms: 256440\n- text: Make some noise\n  start_ms: 256440\n  end_ms: 260150\n- text: Check this shit out\n  start_ms: 260150\n  end_ms: 260800\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 260800\nplain: |-\n  Bitch!\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  (This all gonna pass)\n  Brick City, yo\n  (This all gonna pass), yo, yo\n  (This all gonna pass)\n\n  Funk Doc straight lunatic, since young I ate paint chips\n  The rare moon that pair mics, my maintenance\n  I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts\n  For money, to your house arrest anklet\n  I take it all, if not, here's a thousand\n  Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men\n  I'm constant, on that paper chase (come on)\n  Blow zip codes from bricks to 8-1-8\n\n  Doc serve 'til you lickin' the plate\n  Battle royal, in the ring smoking like Doc out of oil\n  Fire thrown to the roof of your apartment\n  Hit 95 then I hide with the Waltons\n  Down South, the 44 feela\n  I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga\n  I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga\n  Westside highway running, homo nigga\n\n  I'm the sultan of the ghetto, the homicidal aficionado\n  I empty niggas out like Cristal bottles (uh)\n  When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel\n  I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel\n  I'm bigger than producers (uh), I figured out you losers\n  I know my longevity confuse ya\n  Big paper games, come on, run into these flames\n  Recognize the power of the royal King James\n\n  Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces like they drinkin' Guinness (uh)\n  When they realize I'm not finished\n  I been paid, been platinum, been spittin' (uh)\n  Been eatin', been ballin', and you know I'm shittin'\n  Platinum links, chinky-eyed blonde haired honeys\n  Sippin' rainbow-colored drinks\n  Black thugs in white minks, ready to jack the brink\n  Bend your little wifey over (yea), help her stretch out (yea) the kinks\n\n  That's why y'all niggas freeze when I step up in the buildin'\n  The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children (uh)\n  Carats shine, the world all mine\n  Can't believe these cats poppin' shit 'bout paper in they rhymes\n  Or bodies they collect, black Gotti, shottie, techs\n  Them gangsta visions'll have your ass up in an ambulance\n  Cats ain't live, look up in my eyes\n  We could do this one more time, I'll let you decide\n\n  The Alize swigger (uh), I clock twelve figgas (uh)\n  Think Giuliani's rough, I got some real shit for niggas\n  Never been defeated, niggas retreated\n  Made the choice to be seated 'til my mission's completed\n  Get loose, get loose, Method Man get loose\n  What the world gon' do when my dogs get loose?\n  (Blaze one), blaze one (blaze one), blaze one\n  Blaze, blaze, blaze one\n\n  Now, four corners, four seasons (uh)\n  Four MCs with four reasons to bring this game to it's knees\n  And while you down there, suck my dick\n  My whole motto is, \"Fuck it, hit the smoke shop and blow my budget\" (yeah)\n  MC's abusing my bitch, using my shit\n  I'm hangin' off the roof with one hand, losin' my grip\n  Now y'all don't wanna see me do that, now, do you?\n  Go straight cuckoo and terrorize rap, do you?\n\n  I do my best work stressed out and under pressure (yea-yah)\n  Deep inside the mind's where you'll find my buried treasure\n  I'm still wild, still Tical, still gritty style\n  Still foul, crimi-niminal, individual\n  Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of chips\n  Too many rap niggas be on John Gotti dick\n  Now this is something that we don't rehearse (yeah)\n  Put that rap shit (yeah) second (yeah), and hip-hop first\n\n  Be easy, ain't nann nigga spittin' like me\n  Nor the murderous motherfuckin' I-N-C (Murda!)\n  Niggas'll pass me, look me in the face, ask me\n  \"Are y'all really holdin' weight, or did somebody gas me?\"\n  Ja the myth, Reggie hand me the fifth let me explain to little man\n  Maybe give him a lift, son you ridin' with (gangstas)\n  Amongst a whole lotta other shit, Murder Inc. is the clique\n  Niggas can't deal with, try it (players)\n  You gon' get yours to the heart\n  Lesson in life by the fofo, niggas want (yeah), more than a little bit\n\n  Hot shit, LL and Red, Ja Rule with Hot Nix\n  I'm the bastard that shits on bitches, explain this\n  When they ride dick so well, head game from hell\n  But I love makin' 'em yell, my name\n  Rule, baby, and ain't shit gon' change (uh, uh)\n\n  Yo, Meth, why don't you ask where all the ladies at?\n  Where all the ladies at?\n  All the ladies in the house with the real hair\n  Clean underwear and she don't need welfare\n  Make some noise\n  Check this shit out\n"}]