[{"id":14079169,"name":"7.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - Da Rockwilder","trackName":"7.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - Da Rockwilder","artistName":"Method Man","albumName":"Blackout","duration":136.0363999,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Oh my God, oh my God\nAaaaauw (Boom), Uh, yeah\n\nMicrophone checka, swingin' sword lecture\nClosin' down the sector, supreme neck protector\nBetter warn them kid, Mr. Meth's a boiling pot\nAbout to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV\n\nFor cheesy, too many wanna be hard be easy\nIt's all n'together, going all out together\nIt don't take much to please me\nStill homes I'm never satisfy like the Stones\n\nWe don't condone bitin' see them selling crossbones\nProtecting what I'm writing\nDon't clash with the Titan who blast with a license\nTo kill rap reciting\n\nCome on, in the zone with ya nigga from the group home\nTical, fuck your lifestyle\nPut your lights out\nGet the shit to crackin' got you feelin' with your pipes out\n\nTime for some action, surfin' the avenue\nMad at you, where I used to battle crews\nBack when Antoinette had that attitude\nCover me I'm going in, walls closing in\n\nGot us bustin' off these pistols\nMy niggas got issues, again, same song\nArmed with the mega bomb\nBlow you out the frame and then I'm gone\n\nYo, I was going too but we roam, cellular phones\nDoc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bones\nDon't condone, spit bank loans and homegrown\nSuckers break like turbo in no ozone\n\nWhen I, grab the broom\nMoon-walk platoon hawk my goons bark\nLeave you in a Blue Lagoon lost, true\nV9's and a glove with Nasu he dyin' in the car\n\nWhile we behind on the bars\nHaters don't touch\nWeigh us both up\nNow my neighbor doped up\n\nGot the cable hooked up, all channels\nLift my shirt up, all mammal\nYou ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos\nSawed off shotgun\n\nHand on the pump, sippin' on a forty\nYo smokin' on a blunt\nBust my gun and Red and Meth gettin' jumped\nLa, la, la, la\nLa, la, la, la\n\nYeah come on, Red and Meth gettin' jumped\nLa, la, la, la\nLa, la, la, la","syncedLyrics":"[00:03.36] Oh my God, oh my God\n[00:17.91] \n[00:25.64] Aaaaauw (Boom), Uh, yeah\n[00:37.47] Microphone checka, swingin' sword lecture\n[00:40.32] Closin' down the sector, supreme neck protector\n[00:41.86] Better warn them kid, Mr. Meth's a boiling pot\n[00:43.58] About to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV\n[00:47.46] For cheesy, too many wanna be hard be easy\n[00:49.36] It's all n'together, going all out together\n[00:51.54] It don't take much to please me\n[00:53.15] Still homes I'm never satisfy like the Stones\n[00:55.40] We don't condone bitin' see them selling crossbones\n[00:57.08] Protecting what I'm writing\n[00:58.75] Don't clash with the Titan who blast with a license\n[00:59.99] To kill rap reciting\n[01:02.74] Come on, in the zone with ya nigga from the group home\n[01:05.09] Tical, fuck your lifestyle\n[01:05.91] Put your lights out\n[01:07.67] Get the shit to crackin' got you feelin' with your pipes out\n[01:10.15] Time for some action, surfin' the avenue\n[01:12.57] Mad at you, where I used to battle crews\n[01:14.13] Back when Antoinette had that attitude\n[01:15.85] Cover me I'm going in, walls closing in\n[01:17.93] Got us bustin' off these pistols\n[01:19.42] My niggas got issues, again, same song\n[01:21.44] Armed with the mega bomb\n[01:23.20] Blow you out the frame and then I'm gone\n[01:25.01] Yo, I was going too but we roam, cellular phones\n[01:27.62] Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bones\n[01:29.93] Don't condone, spit bank loans and homegrown\n[01:32.44] Suckers break like turbo in no ozone\n[01:35.09] When I, grab the broom\n[01:35.98] Moon-walk platoon hawk my goons bark\n[01:38.38] Leave you in a Blue Lagoon lost, true\n[01:39.75] V9's and a glove with Nasu he dyin' in the car\n[01:43.60] While we behind on the bars\n[01:45.03] Haters don't touch\n[01:46.15] Weigh us both up\n[01:47.37] Now my neighbor doped up\n[01:48.90] Got the cable hooked up, all channels\n[01:50.58] Lift my shirt up, all mammal\n[01:52.21] You ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos\n[01:54.99] Sawed off shotgun\n[01:55.96] Hand on the pump, sippin' on a forty\n[01:57.94] Yo smokin' on a blunt\n[01:59.30] Bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin' jumped\n[02:01.89] La, la, la, la\n[02:03.14] La, la, la, la\n[02:08.60] Yeah come on, Red and Meth gettin' jumped\n[02:11.47] La, la, la, la\n[02:12.79] La, la, la, la\n[02:13.78] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 7.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - Da Rockwilder\n  artist: Method Man\n  album: Blackout\n  duration_ms: 136036\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Oh my God, oh my God\n  start_ms: 3360\n  end_ms: 17910\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 17910\n  end_ms: 25640\n- text: Aaaaauw (Boom), Uh, yeah\n  start_ms: 25640\n  end_ms: 37470\n- text: Microphone checka, swingin' sword lecture\n  start_ms: 37470\n  end_ms: 40320\n- text: Closin' down the sector, supreme neck protector\n  start_ms: 40320\n  end_ms: 41860\n- text: Better warn them kid, Mr. Meth's a boiling pot\n  start_ms: 41860\n  end_ms: 43580\n- text: About to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV\n  start_ms: 43580\n  end_ms: 47460\n- text: For cheesy, too many wanna be hard be easy\n  start_ms: 47460\n  end_ms: 49360\n- text: It's all n'together, going all out together\n  start_ms: 49360\n  end_ms: 51540\n- text: It don't take much to please me\n  start_ms: 51540\n  end_ms: 53150\n- text: Still homes I'm never satisfy like the Stones\n  start_ms: 53150\n  end_ms: 55400\n- text: We don't condone bitin' see them selling crossbones\n  start_ms: 55400\n  end_ms: 57080\n- text: Protecting what I'm writing\n  start_ms: 57080\n  end_ms: 58750\n- text: Don't clash with the Titan who blast with a license\n  start_ms: 58750\n  end_ms: 59990\n- text: To kill rap reciting\n  start_ms: 59990\n  end_ms: 62740\n- text: Come on, in the zone with ya nigga from the group home\n  start_ms: 62740\n  end_ms: 65090\n- text: Tical, fuck your lifestyle\n  start_ms: 65090\n  end_ms: 65910\n- text: Put your lights out\n  start_ms: 65910\n  end_ms: 67670\n- text: Get the shit to crackin' got you feelin' with your pipes out\n  start_ms: 67670\n  end_ms: 70150\n- text: Time for some action, surfin' the avenue\n  start_ms: 70150\n  end_ms: 72570\n- text: Mad at you, where I used to battle crews\n  start_ms: 72570\n  end_ms: 74130\n- text: Back when Antoinette had that attitude\n  start_ms: 74130\n  end_ms: 75850\n- text: Cover me I'm going in, walls closing in\n  start_ms: 75850\n  end_ms: 77930\n- text: Got us bustin' off these pistols\n  start_ms: 77930\n  end_ms: 79420\n- text: My niggas got issues, again, same song\n  start_ms: 79420\n  end_ms: 81440\n- text: Armed with the mega bomb\n  start_ms: 81440\n  end_ms: 83200\n- text: Blow you out the frame and then I'm gone\n  start_ms: 83200\n  end_ms: 85010\n- text: Yo, I was going too but we roam, cellular phones\n  start_ms: 85010\n  end_ms: 87620\n- text: Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bones\n  start_ms: 87620\n  end_ms: 89930\n- text: Don't condone, spit bank loans and homegrown\n  start_ms: 89930\n  end_ms: 92440\n- text: Suckers break like turbo in no ozone\n  start_ms: 92440\n  end_ms: 95090\n- text: When I, grab the broom\n  start_ms: 95090\n  end_ms: 95980\n- text: Moon-walk platoon hawk my goons bark\n  start_ms: 95980\n  end_ms: 98380\n- text: Leave you in a Blue Lagoon lost, true\n  start_ms: 98380\n  end_ms: 99750\n- text: V9's and a glove with Nasu he dyin' in the car\n  start_ms: 99750\n  end_ms: 103600\n- text: While we behind on the bars\n  start_ms: 103600\n  end_ms: 105030\n- text: Haters don't touch\n  start_ms: 105030\n  end_ms: 106150\n- text: Weigh us both up\n  start_ms: 106150\n  end_ms: 107370\n- text: Now my neighbor doped up\n  start_ms: 107370\n  end_ms: 108900\n- text: Got the cable hooked up, all channels\n  start_ms: 108900\n  end_ms: 110580\n- text: Lift my shirt up, all mammal\n  start_ms: 110580\n  end_ms: 112210\n- text: You ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos\n  start_ms: 112210\n  end_ms: 114990\n- text: Sawed off shotgun\n  start_ms: 114990\n  end_ms: 115960\n- text: Hand on the pump, sippin' on a forty\n  start_ms: 115960\n  end_ms: 117940\n- text: Yo smokin' on a blunt\n  start_ms: 117940\n  end_ms: 119300\n- text: Bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin' jumped\n  start_ms: 119300\n  end_ms: 121890\n- text: La, la, la, la\n  start_ms: 121890\n  end_ms: 123140\n- text: La, la, la, la\n  start_ms: 123140\n  end_ms: 128600\n- text: Yeah come on, Red and Meth gettin' jumped\n  start_ms: 128600\n  end_ms: 131470\n- text: La, la, la, la\n  start_ms: 131470\n  end_ms: 132790\n- text: La, la, la, la\n  start_ms: 132790\n  end_ms: 133780\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 133780\nplain: |-\n  Oh my God, oh my God\n  Aaaaauw (Boom), Uh, yeah\n\n  Microphone checka, swingin' sword lecture\n  Closin' down the sector, supreme neck protector\n  Better warn them kid, Mr. Meth's a boiling pot\n  About to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV\n\n  For cheesy, too many wanna be hard be easy\n  It's all n'together, going all out together\n  It don't take much to please me\n  Still homes I'm never satisfy like the Stones\n\n  We don't condone bitin' see them selling crossbones\n  Protecting what I'm writing\n  Don't clash with the Titan who blast with a license\n  To kill rap reciting\n\n  Come on, in the zone with ya nigga from the group home\n  Tical, fuck your lifestyle\n  Put your lights out\n  Get the shit to crackin' got you feelin' with your pipes out\n\n  Time for some action, surfin' the avenue\n  Mad at you, where I used to battle crews\n  Back when Antoinette had that attitude\n  Cover me I'm going in, walls closing in\n\n  Got us bustin' off these pistols\n  My niggas got issues, again, same song\n  Armed with the mega bomb\n  Blow you out the frame and then I'm gone\n\n  Yo, I was going too but we roam, cellular phones\n  Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bones\n  Don't condone, spit bank loans and homegrown\n  Suckers break like turbo in no ozone\n\n  When I, grab the broom\n  Moon-walk platoon hawk my goons bark\n  Leave you in a Blue Lagoon lost, true\n  V9's and a glove with Nasu he dyin' in the car\n\n  While we behind on the bars\n  Haters don't touch\n  Weigh us both up\n  Now my neighbor doped up\n\n  Got the cable hooked up, all channels\n  Lift my shirt up, all mammal\n  You ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos\n  Sawed off shotgun\n\n  Hand on the pump, sippin' on a forty\n  Yo smokin' on a blunt\n  Bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin' jumped\n  La, la, la, la\n  La, la, la, la\n\n  Yeah come on, Red and Meth gettin' jumped\n  La, la, la, la\n  La, la, la, la\n"},{"id":38091912,"name":"1, 2, 1, 2 (feat. Method Man, Redman)","trackName":"1, 2, 1, 2 (feat. Method Man, Redman)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":274.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Come on\n1, 2, 1, 2, uh uh\n1, 2, 1, 2\nMr. Meth and Doc\n1, 2, 1, 2\nUh uh, 1, 2, 1, 2\nDJ scratch on the track\n1, 2, 1, 2\n1, 2, 1, 2\nBreak your motha fuckin' back\n1, 2, 1, 2\nAh yo, yo\n\nMy lyric is 8 ball, batter up play ball\nFuck ya'll analog, niggas, we be digital\nSubliminal comin', from the five star general\nAttack you from the blind side\nInvisible to the naked eye, where them criminals\nBetter have your eight essential vitamins and minerals\nThe wu is comin' through you know the outcome\nCritical condition in your physical for injurin'\nThe officer and gentleman who stack by the Benjamin\n\nOff a beat like this, I keep a night stick\nIn case any stick up care, where heat might miss\nI chicken fry rice bitch in a white trench\nBustin' off two macks, I'm like I'm hit\nYo, I'm just playin', I clear the crowd out\nLike a peppa spray can sprayin'\nI throw lightin' out the arms raiden\nGo guard your prey\nNext year I do nothin' more than Y2K\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAnd if you say fuck me\nI'ma say fuck you\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\nFrom debutant down to stripper\nI'm too nonchalant, a drink mixed with four kinds of liquors\nCatch me at the bar, 'Fu Bar', ladies know who we are\nAnd dream of fuckin' a star, who da scrub\nShotgun in this man car\nBurnin' up, forever gettin' thrown out the club\nIt be us Paul, shot out and bugged\nI smoke bud, sniff a bee's ass to get a buzz\nI'm everything you think you don't know\n\nYo man, I throw a 5 in the power\nPoppa wheely with the front end hittin speed bumps\n40 miles per hour\nI'm out at Howard, next to Baltimore\nTakin' change out the fountains at shoppin' malls\nRats can only afford chuck-e-cheese\nThe blood in my jeans is tough like Buddy Lee\nSemi-dart auto off ya, blood coughin'\nMeth pull a last spark plug with a heart pump\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nYo, wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAh yo\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAh yo\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAnd if you say fuck me\nI'ma say fuck you\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\nCall me Will, enemy I state\nWhen four doc run the scam\nNew jacks studderin', that the man from the upper hand\nPunch, atomic bomb I hit many\nFrom bricks to South Park, you dyin' with Kenny\nWhile you bailin', I'm trailin'\nRockin' hard hat helmets, clip the satellite surveillance\nWhen I walk by you better not be kickin'\nOr I put two more in that Terriyaki chicken\n\nYou've just been fitted for them seaman shoes\nThis is bottom of the lake raps\nStab you in the back\nKung fu\nFifty-two cops can't withstand the fifty-two blocks\nUnless they bust like fifty-two shots\nI'm the has been that have not\nBattle kids at Maxwell's house\n\nKnow when I'm good to the last drop\nWhat's my name, Meth, his name's Doc\nJust like urban\nSee me in the gran' transportation splurgin'\nDrivin' with a turban who push a black suburban\nCome on, we rollin' windows half down through the urban\nNetwork law lay it down like a Persian\nM to the E to the F, spell curtain\n\nGet out your car sucker\nThis ain't yours\nRobbed you with a gun that filled with paint balls\nAnd brauds got the nerve to act funny\nYou a champagne ho, with kool aide money\nFrown bitch, Doc up in that town quick\nYou back down a point on NFL blitz\nI'm lyin', buddah break fool and take two\nAnd put your hole in the earth to escape through\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAh yo\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAh yo\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAnd if you say fuck me\nI'ma say fuck you\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2, 2, 2\n\nYeah, yo\nDJ scratch\nNot ready for prime time playas\nMr. Meth, funk Doc\nDef Jam 2000 mutha fuckas\nCalm me down, baby\nNod your head to this\n\nCome on\nAh yo, this is WKYA Radio\nWe are kickin' your motha fuckin ass\nYo Flex\nThats right it's goin' down\nRedman, method man, blackin the funk out\nNow listen","syncedLyrics":"[00:01.95] Come on\n[00:03.74] 1, 2, 1, 2, uh uh\n[00:05.75] 1, 2, 1, 2\n[00:06.97] Mr. Meth and Doc\n[00:10.57] 1, 2, 1, 2\n[00:10.64] Uh uh, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[00:11.77] DJ scratch on the track\n[00:13.77] 1, 2, 1, 2\n[00:15.58] 1, 2, 1, 2\n[00:16.73] Break your motha fuckin' back\n[00:18.63] 1, 2, 1, 2\n[00:19.98] Ah yo, yo\n[00:21.86] My lyric is 8 ball, batter up play ball\n[00:24.62] Fuck ya'll analog, niggas, we be digital\n[00:26.87] Subliminal comin', from the five star general\n[00:29.42] Attack you from the blind side\n[00:30.66] Invisible to the naked eye, where them criminals\n[00:33.20] Better have your eight essential vitamins and minerals\n[00:35.57] The wu is comin' through you know the outcome\n[00:37.64] Critical condition in your physical for injurin'\n[00:39.96] The officer and gentleman who stack by the Benjamin\n[00:42.46] Off a beat like this, I keep a night stick\n[00:44.81] In case any stick up care, where heat might miss\n[00:47.59] I chicken fry rice bitch in a white trench\n[00:50.13] Bustin' off two macks, I'm like I'm hit\n[00:52.32] Yo, I'm just playin', I clear the crowd out\n[00:54.87] Like a peppa spray can sprayin'\n[00:56.72] I throw lightin' out the arms raiden\n[00:58.83] Go guard your prey\n[00:59.94] Next year I do nothin' more than Y2K\n[01:02.23] We say\n[01:02.79] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[01:05.90] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[01:08.69] We say\n[01:10.66] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[01:12.16] We say\n[01:12.94] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[01:14.45] We say\n[01:15.55] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[01:16.22] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[01:17.17] And if you say fuck me\n[01:18.78] I'ma say fuck you\n[01:19.80] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[01:22.44] From debutant down to stripper\n[01:24.40] I'm too nonchalant, a drink mixed with four kinds of liquors\n[01:27.67] Catch me at the bar, 'Fu Bar', ladies know who we are\n[01:30.36] And dream of fuckin' a star, who da scrub\n[01:32.47] Shotgun in this man car\n[01:34.17] Burnin' up, forever gettin' thrown out the club\n[01:36.73] It be us Paul, shot out and bugged\n[01:38.70] I smoke bud, sniff a bee's ass to get a buzz\n[01:41.23] I'm everything you think you don't know\n[01:42.60] Yo man, I throw a 5 in the power\n[01:43.82] Poppa wheely with the front end hittin speed bumps\n[01:46.63] 40 miles per hour\n[01:47.84] I'm out at Howard, next to Baltimore\n[01:50.04] Takin' change out the fountains at shoppin' malls\n[01:52.71] Rats can only afford chuck-e-cheese\n[01:54.96] The blood in my jeans is tough like Buddy Lee\n[01:57.58] Semi-dart auto off ya, blood coughin'\n[02:00.16] Meth pull a last spark plug with a heart pump\n[02:03.19] We say\n[02:03.37] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[02:04.75] Yo, wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[02:07.18] We say\n[02:07.44] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[02:09.12] Ah yo\n[02:10.52] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[02:12.18] We say\n[02:13.37] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[02:14.65] Ah yo\n[02:15.16] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[02:16.96] And if you say fuck me\n[02:18.54] I'ma say fuck you\n[02:20.10] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[02:21.56] Call me Will, enemy I state\n[02:23.41] When four doc run the scam\n[02:25.07] New jacks studderin', that the man from the upper hand\n[02:27.93] Punch, atomic bomb I hit many\n[02:30.08] From bricks to South Park, you dyin' with Kenny\n[02:32.81] While you bailin', I'm trailin'\n[02:34.54] Rockin' hard hat helmets, clip the satellite surveillance\n[02:37.82] When I walk by you better not be kickin'\n[02:40.11] Or I put two more in that Terriyaki chicken\n[02:42.06] You've just been fitted for them seaman shoes\n[02:44.26] This is bottom of the lake raps\n[02:45.65] Stab you in the back\n[02:46.51] Kung fu\n[02:47.17] Fifty-two cops can't withstand the fifty-two blocks\n[02:49.92] Unless they bust like fifty-two shots\n[02:51.79] I'm the has been that have not\n[02:53.43] Battle kids at Maxwell's house\n[02:55.22] Know when I'm good to the last drop\n[02:57.27] What's my name, Meth, his name's Doc\n[02:59.19] Just like urban\n[03:00.10] See me in the gran' transportation splurgin'\n[03:02.51] Drivin' with a turban who push a black suburban\n[03:04.72] Come on, we rollin' windows half down through the urban\n[03:07.62] Network law lay it down like a Persian\n[03:10.10] M to the E to the F, spell curtain\n[03:12.39] Get out your car sucker\n[03:13.86] This ain't yours\n[03:14.76] Robbed you with a gun that filled with paint balls\n[03:17.54] And brauds got the nerve to act funny\n[03:20.01] You a champagne ho, with kool aide money\n[03:22.57] Frown bitch, Doc up in that town quick\n[03:24.91] You back down a point on NFL blitz\n[03:27.52] I'm lyin', buddah break fool and take two\n[03:29.94] And put your hole in the earth to escape through\n[03:32.14] We say\n[03:32.61] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[03:35.35] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[03:37.18] We say\n[03:37.33] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[03:39.66] Ah yo\n[03:40.55] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[03:41.89] We say\n[03:42.62] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[03:44.66] Ah yo\n[03:45.37] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n[03:47.15] And if you say fuck me\n[03:48.46] I'ma say fuck you\n[03:50.50] Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2, 2, 2\n[03:52.77] Yeah, yo\n[03:56.53] DJ scratch\n[04:00.60] Not ready for prime time playas\n[04:02.87] Mr. Meth, funk Doc\n[04:05.65] Def Jam 2000 mutha fuckas\n[04:11.52] Calm me down, baby\n[04:16.50] Nod your head to this\n[04:19.82] \n[04:22.56] Come on\n[04:23.31] Ah yo, this is WKYA Radio\n[04:25.58] We are kickin' your motha fuckin ass\n[04:27.92] Yo Flex\n[04:28.86] Thats right it's goin' down\n[04:30.38] Redman, method man, blackin the funk out\n[04:32.99] Now listen\n[04:33.59] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 1, 2, 1, 2 (feat. Method Man, Redman)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 274000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Come on\n  start_ms: 1950\n  end_ms: 3740\n- text: 1, 2, 1, 2, uh uh\n  start_ms: 3740\n  end_ms: 5750\n- text: 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 5750\n  end_ms: 6970\n- text: Mr. Meth and Doc\n  start_ms: 6970\n  end_ms: 10570\n- text: 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 10570\n  end_ms: 10640\n- text: Uh uh, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 10640\n  end_ms: 11770\n- text: DJ scratch on the track\n  start_ms: 11770\n  end_ms: 13770\n- text: 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 13770\n  end_ms: 15580\n- text: 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 15580\n  end_ms: 16730\n- text: Break your motha fuckin' back\n  start_ms: 16730\n  end_ms: 18630\n- text: 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 18630\n  end_ms: 19980\n- text: Ah yo, yo\n  start_ms: 19980\n  end_ms: 21860\n- text: My lyric is 8 ball, batter up play ball\n  start_ms: 21860\n  end_ms: 24620\n- text: Fuck ya'll analog, niggas, we be digital\n  start_ms: 24620\n  end_ms: 26870\n- text: Subliminal comin', from the five star general\n  start_ms: 26870\n  end_ms: 29420\n- text: Attack you from the blind side\n  start_ms: 29420\n  end_ms: 30660\n- text: Invisible to the naked eye, where them criminals\n  start_ms: 30660\n  end_ms: 33200\n- text: Better have your eight essential vitamins and minerals\n  start_ms: 33200\n  end_ms: 35570\n- text: The wu is comin' through you know the outcome\n  start_ms: 35570\n  end_ms: 37640\n- text: Critical condition in your physical for injurin'\n  start_ms: 37640\n  end_ms: 39960\n- text: The officer and gentleman who stack by the Benjamin\n  start_ms: 39960\n  end_ms: 42460\n- text: Off a beat like this, I keep a night stick\n  start_ms: 42460\n  end_ms: 44810\n- text: In case any stick up care, where heat might miss\n  start_ms: 44810\n  end_ms: 47590\n- text: I chicken fry rice bitch in a white trench\n  start_ms: 47590\n  end_ms: 50130\n- text: Bustin' off two macks, I'm like I'm hit\n  start_ms: 50130\n  end_ms: 52320\n- text: Yo, I'm just playin', I clear the crowd out\n  start_ms: 52320\n  end_ms: 54870\n- text: Like a peppa spray can sprayin'\n  start_ms: 54870\n  end_ms: 56720\n- text: I throw lightin' out the arms raiden\n  start_ms: 56720\n  end_ms: 58830\n- text: Go guard your prey\n  start_ms: 58830\n  end_ms: 59940\n- text: Next year I do nothin' more than Y2K\n  start_ms: 59940\n  end_ms: 62230\n- text: We say\n  start_ms: 62230\n  end_ms: 62790\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 62790\n  end_ms: 65900\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 65900\n  end_ms: 68690\n- text: We say\n  start_ms: 68690\n  end_ms: 70660\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 70660\n  end_ms: 72160\n- text: We say\n  start_ms: 72160\n  end_ms: 72940\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 72940\n  end_ms: 74450\n- text: We say\n  start_ms: 74450\n  end_ms: 75550\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 75550\n  end_ms: 76220\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 76220\n  end_ms: 77170\n- text: And if you say fuck me\n  start_ms: 77170\n  end_ms: 78780\n- text: I'ma say fuck you\n  start_ms: 78780\n  end_ms: 79800\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 79800\n  end_ms: 82440\n- text: From debutant down to stripper\n  start_ms: 82440\n  end_ms: 84400\n- text: I'm too nonchalant, a drink mixed with four kinds of liquors\n  start_ms: 84400\n  end_ms: 87670\n- text: Catch me at the bar, 'Fu Bar', ladies know who we are\n  start_ms: 87670\n  end_ms: 90360\n- text: And dream of fuckin' a star, who da scrub\n  start_ms: 90360\n  end_ms: 92470\n- text: Shotgun in this man car\n  start_ms: 92470\n  end_ms: 94170\n- text: Burnin' up, forever gettin' thrown out the club\n  start_ms: 94170\n  end_ms: 96730\n- text: It be us Paul, shot out and bugged\n  start_ms: 96730\n  end_ms: 98700\n- text: I smoke bud, sniff a bee's ass to get a buzz\n  start_ms: 98700\n  end_ms: 101230\n- text: I'm everything you think you don't know\n  start_ms: 101230\n  end_ms: 102600\n- text: Yo man, I throw a 5 in the power\n  start_ms: 102600\n  end_ms: 103820\n- text: Poppa wheely with the front end hittin speed bumps\n  start_ms: 103820\n  end_ms: 106630\n- text: 40 miles per hour\n  start_ms: 106630\n  end_ms: 107840\n- text: I'm out at Howard, next to Baltimore\n  start_ms: 107840\n  end_ms: 110040\n- text: Takin' change out the fountains at shoppin' malls\n  start_ms: 110040\n  end_ms: 112710\n- text: Rats can only afford chuck-e-cheese\n  start_ms: 112710\n  end_ms: 114960\n- text: The blood in my jeans is tough like Buddy Lee\n  start_ms: 114960\n  end_ms: 117580\n- text: Semi-dart auto off ya, blood coughin'\n  start_ms: 117580\n  end_ms: 120160\n- text: Meth pull a last spark plug with a heart pump\n  start_ms: 120160\n  end_ms: 123190\n- text: We say\n  start_ms: 123190\n  end_ms: 123370\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 123370\n  end_ms: 124750\n- text: Yo, wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 124750\n  end_ms: 127180\n- text: We say\n  start_ms: 127180\n  end_ms: 127440\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 127440\n  end_ms: 129120\n- text: Ah yo\n  start_ms: 129120\n  end_ms: 130520\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 130520\n  end_ms: 132180\n- text: We say\n  start_ms: 132180\n  end_ms: 133370\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 133370\n  end_ms: 134650\n- text: Ah yo\n  start_ms: 134650\n  end_ms: 135160\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 135160\n  end_ms: 136960\n- text: And if you say fuck me\n  start_ms: 136960\n  end_ms: 138540\n- text: I'ma say fuck you\n  start_ms: 138540\n  end_ms: 140100\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 140100\n  end_ms: 141560\n- text: Call me Will, enemy I state\n  start_ms: 141560\n  end_ms: 143410\n- text: When four doc run the scam\n  start_ms: 143410\n  end_ms: 145070\n- text: New jacks studderin', that the man from the upper hand\n  start_ms: 145070\n  end_ms: 147930\n- text: Punch, atomic bomb I hit many\n  start_ms: 147930\n  end_ms: 150080\n- text: From bricks to South Park, you dyin' with Kenny\n  start_ms: 150080\n  end_ms: 152810\n- text: While you bailin', I'm trailin'\n  start_ms: 152810\n  end_ms: 154540\n- text: Rockin' hard hat helmets, clip the satellite surveillance\n  start_ms: 154540\n  end_ms: 157820\n- text: When I walk by you better not be kickin'\n  start_ms: 157820\n  end_ms: 160110\n- text: Or I put two more in that Terriyaki chicken\n  start_ms: 160110\n  end_ms: 162060\n- text: You've just been fitted for them seaman shoes\n  start_ms: 162060\n  end_ms: 164260\n- text: This is bottom of the lake raps\n  start_ms: 164260\n  end_ms: 165650\n- text: Stab you in the back\n  start_ms: 165650\n  end_ms: 166510\n- text: Kung fu\n  start_ms: 166510\n  end_ms: 167170\n- text: Fifty-two cops can't withstand the fifty-two blocks\n  start_ms: 167170\n  end_ms: 169920\n- text: Unless they bust like fifty-two shots\n  start_ms: 169920\n  end_ms: 171790\n- text: I'm the has been that have not\n  start_ms: 171790\n  end_ms: 173430\n- text: Battle kids at Maxwell's house\n  start_ms: 173430\n  end_ms: 175220\n- text: Know when I'm good to the last drop\n  start_ms: 175220\n  end_ms: 177270\n- text: What's my name, Meth, his name's Doc\n  start_ms: 177270\n  end_ms: 179190\n- text: Just like urban\n  start_ms: 179190\n  end_ms: 180100\n- text: See me in the gran' transportation splurgin'\n  start_ms: 180100\n  end_ms: 182510\n- text: Drivin' with a turban who push a black suburban\n  start_ms: 182510\n  end_ms: 184720\n- text: Come on, we rollin' windows half down through the urban\n  start_ms: 184720\n  end_ms: 187620\n- text: Network law lay it down like a Persian\n  start_ms: 187620\n  end_ms: 190100\n- text: M to the E to the F, spell curtain\n  start_ms: 190100\n  end_ms: 192390\n- text: Get out your car sucker\n  start_ms: 192390\n  end_ms: 193860\n- text: This ain't yours\n  start_ms: 193860\n  end_ms: 194760\n- text: Robbed you with a gun that filled with paint balls\n  start_ms: 194760\n  end_ms: 197540\n- text: And brauds got the nerve to act funny\n  start_ms: 197540\n  end_ms: 200010\n- text: You a champagne ho, with kool aide money\n  start_ms: 200010\n  end_ms: 202570\n- text: Frown bitch, Doc up in that town quick\n  start_ms: 202570\n  end_ms: 204910\n- text: You back down a point on NFL blitz\n  start_ms: 204910\n  end_ms: 207520\n- text: I'm lyin', buddah break fool and take two\n  start_ms: 207520\n  end_ms: 209940\n- text: And put your hole in the earth to escape through\n  start_ms: 209940\n  end_ms: 212140\n- text: We say\n  start_ms: 212140\n  end_ms: 212610\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 212610\n  end_ms: 215350\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 215350\n  end_ms: 217180\n- text: We say\n  start_ms: 217180\n  end_ms: 217330\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 217330\n  end_ms: 219660\n- text: Ah yo\n  start_ms: 219660\n  end_ms: 220550\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 220550\n  end_ms: 221890\n- text: We say\n  start_ms: 221890\n  end_ms: 222620\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 222620\n  end_ms: 224660\n- text: Ah yo\n  start_ms: 224660\n  end_ms: 225370\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  start_ms: 225370\n  end_ms: 227150\n- text: And if you say fuck me\n  start_ms: 227150\n  end_ms: 228460\n- text: I'ma say fuck you\n  start_ms: 228460\n  end_ms: 230500\n- text: Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2, 2, 2\n  start_ms: 230500\n  end_ms: 232770\n- text: Yeah, yo\n  start_ms: 232770\n  end_ms: 236530\n- text: DJ scratch\n  start_ms: 236530\n  end_ms: 240600\n- text: Not ready for prime time playas\n  start_ms: 240600\n  end_ms: 242870\n- text: Mr. Meth, funk Doc\n  start_ms: 242870\n  end_ms: 245650\n- text: Def Jam 2000 mutha fuckas\n  start_ms: 245650\n  end_ms: 251520\n- text: Calm me down, baby\n  start_ms: 251520\n  end_ms: 256500\n- text: Nod your head to this\n  start_ms: 256500\n  end_ms: 259820\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 259820\n  end_ms: 262560\n- text: Come on\n  start_ms: 262560\n  end_ms: 263310\n- text: Ah yo, this is WKYA Radio\n  start_ms: 263310\n  end_ms: 265580\n- text: We are kickin' your motha fuckin ass\n  start_ms: 265580\n  end_ms: 267920\n- text: Yo Flex\n  start_ms: 267920\n  end_ms: 268860\n- text: Thats right it's goin' down\n  start_ms: 268860\n  end_ms: 270380\n- text: Redman, method man, blackin the funk out\n  start_ms: 270380\n  end_ms: 272990\n- text: Now listen\n  start_ms: 272990\n  end_ms: 273590\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 273590\nplain: |-\n  Come on\n  1, 2, 1, 2, uh uh\n  1, 2, 1, 2\n  Mr. Meth and Doc\n  1, 2, 1, 2\n  Uh uh, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  DJ scratch on the track\n  1, 2, 1, 2\n  1, 2, 1, 2\n  Break your motha fuckin' back\n  1, 2, 1, 2\n  Ah yo, yo\n\n  My lyric is 8 ball, batter up play ball\n  Fuck ya'll analog, niggas, we be digital\n  Subliminal comin', from the five star general\n  Attack you from the blind side\n  Invisible to the naked eye, where them criminals\n  Better have your eight essential vitamins and minerals\n  The wu is comin' through you know the outcome\n  Critical condition in your physical for injurin'\n  The officer and gentleman who stack by the Benjamin\n\n  Off a beat like this, I keep a night stick\n  In case any stick up care, where heat might miss\n  I chicken fry rice bitch in a white trench\n  Bustin' off two macks, I'm like I'm hit\n  Yo, I'm just playin', I clear the crowd out\n  Like a peppa spray can sprayin'\n  I throw lightin' out the arms raiden\n  Go guard your prey\n  Next year I do nothin' more than Y2K\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  And if you say fuck me\n  I'ma say fuck you\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\n  From debutant down to stripper\n  I'm too nonchalant, a drink mixed with four kinds of liquors\n  Catch me at the bar, 'Fu Bar', ladies know who we are\n  And dream of fuckin' a star, who da scrub\n  Shotgun in this man car\n  Burnin' up, forever gettin' thrown out the club\n  It be us Paul, shot out and bugged\n  I smoke bud, sniff a bee's ass to get a buzz\n  I'm everything you think you don't know\n\n  Yo man, I throw a 5 in the power\n  Poppa wheely with the front end hittin speed bumps\n  40 miles per hour\n  I'm out at Howard, next to Baltimore\n  Takin' change out the fountains at shoppin' malls\n  Rats can only afford chuck-e-cheese\n  The blood in my jeans is tough like Buddy Lee\n  Semi-dart auto off ya, blood coughin'\n  Meth pull a last spark plug with a heart pump\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Yo, wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Ah yo\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Ah yo\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  And if you say fuck me\n  I'ma say fuck you\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\n  Call me Will, enemy I state\n  When four doc run the scam\n  New jacks studderin', that the man from the upper hand\n  Punch, atomic bomb I hit many\n  From bricks to South Park, you dyin' with Kenny\n  While you bailin', I'm trailin'\n  Rockin' hard hat helmets, clip the satellite surveillance\n  When I walk by you better not be kickin'\n  Or I put two more in that Terriyaki chicken\n\n  You've just been fitted for them seaman shoes\n  This is bottom of the lake raps\n  Stab you in the back\n  Kung fu\n  Fifty-two cops can't withstand the fifty-two blocks\n  Unless they bust like fifty-two shots\n  I'm the has been that have not\n  Battle kids at Maxwell's house\n\n  Know when I'm good to the last drop\n  What's my name, Meth, his name's Doc\n  Just like urban\n  See me in the gran' transportation splurgin'\n  Drivin' with a turban who push a black suburban\n  Come on, we rollin' windows half down through the urban\n  Network law lay it down like a Persian\n  M to the E to the F, spell curtain\n\n  Get out your car sucker\n  This ain't yours\n  Robbed you with a gun that filled with paint balls\n  And brauds got the nerve to act funny\n  You a champagne ho, with kool aide money\n  Frown bitch, Doc up in that town quick\n  You back down a point on NFL blitz\n  I'm lyin', buddah break fool and take two\n  And put your hole in the earth to escape through\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Ah yo\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Ah yo\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  And if you say fuck me\n  I'ma say fuck you\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2, 2, 2\n\n  Yeah, yo\n  DJ scratch\n  Not ready for prime time playas\n  Mr. Meth, funk Doc\n  Def Jam 2000 mutha fuckas\n  Calm me down, baby\n  Nod your head to this\n\n  Come on\n  Ah yo, this is WKYA Radio\n  We are kickin' your motha fuckin ass\n  Yo Flex\n  Thats right it's goin' down\n  Redman, method man, blackin the funk out\n  Now listen\n"},{"id":32843939,"name":"Blackout ft. Redman","trackName":"Blackout ft. Redman","artistName":"Method Man","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":223.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"All my people...\nYo, yo, yo, yo\nYo, yo, yo, yo\n\nYo, yo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, where the weed at, bitch?\nI speed backwards down a one-way from cops, see that shit?\nBelieve that shit, slaughter, straight to camcorder\nI'm too hot for TV, rap draw water\nMy windpipe's attached to project boilers\nYou yell, \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice DVD round sound, so I'm heard round town\nAnd chances are, y'all leavin round now\nWait later, we'll make front page paper\nDate raper, with juvenile eighth graders\nHit the high school in one-eighty-seven Cesar\nWhen I bust, y'all need to back four acres\nDoc, y'all, and that's my man Jabberjaw\nThe shit list ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my sound lift\nPlatform shoes to bitches, fo' hun'ed pounds\n\nGet up, stand up, back up, push up (Come on)\nJump up, act up, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\nStick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\nStick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up\nYo, blackout, shootout, smoked out, move out (Come on)\nEven knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\nStick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\nStick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up\n\nNow I'm the street talkin' (Street\nTalkin'), dog walkin' (Dog walkin')\nApproach me with extreme caution, oh, now you forcin'?\nMy hand'll rock your cradle off and I'm hot scorchin'\nBut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin', ain't tryna see central bookin'\nSo tell your goons stop lookin'\nKnow what you did last summer, so I started hookin'\nYou past shooken, off a open can of ass whoopin'\nAin't no tomorrows in the Method's Little Shop of Horrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the hill to harbor\nYou know the saga, marijuana blunts and gold schlager\nWith deadly medley, y'all ain't ready for Chiffon and Reggie\nDon't even bother, the radio for backup (Backup)\nAlright then, your man got slapped up, extorted for his ice and\nStreet life is triflin' (Body over here)\nDon't make me pull a Tyson and bite a nigga ear\nPrecise and slicin' jugulars, the cutthroat\nRuggeder, predator, Viking, et cetera\nPeople's champ, niggas be takin' on competitors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a bone\nStraight from the catacomb, the children of the comb\n(That don't got a clue) Prepare for Desert Storm\n\nGet up, stand up, back up, push up (Come on)\nJump up, act up, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\nStick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\nStick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up\nYo, blackout, shootout, smoked out, move out (Come on)\nEven knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\nStick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\nStick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up\n\nYo, I scored one point one on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, big dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind a brick wall with arsenic jaws\nSpit poison, got a gun permit, draw\nGunned down at sundown, you keep score\nThis training course, and y'all ain't fit\nOn my crew tombstone, put \"We all ain't shit\"\n\nYo, all you gonna be, wannabe, when will you learn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth, gotta wait your turn\nI spit a.41 revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand, I mutilate MCs\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink, my shit stink\nWith every element from A to zinc, so what you think?\nI'ma black out off just one drink? You must be crazy\nA little off the wall maybe, go get a shrink\n\nGet up, stand up, back up, push up (Come on)\nJump up, act up, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\nStick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\nStick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up\nYo, blackout, shootout, smoked out, move out (Come on)\nEven knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\nStick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\nStick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout ft. Redman\n  artist: Method Man\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 223000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  All my people...\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo\n\n  Yo, yo, yo, yo, it's Funk Doc, where the weed at, bitch?\n  I speed backwards down a one-way from cops, see that shit?\n  Believe that shit, slaughter, straight to camcorder\n  I'm too hot for TV, rap draw water\n  My windpipe's attached to project boilers\n  You yell, \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice DVD round sound, so I'm heard round town\n  And chances are, y'all leavin round now\n  Wait later, we'll make front page paper\n  Date raper, with juvenile eighth graders\n  Hit the high school in one-eighty-seven Cesar\n  When I bust, y'all need to back four acres\n  Doc, y'all, and that's my man Jabberjaw\n  The shit list ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my sound lift\n  Platform shoes to bitches, fo' hun'ed pounds\n\n  Get up, stand up, back up, push up (Come on)\n  Jump up, act up, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\n  Stick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\n  Stick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up\n  Yo, blackout, shootout, smoked out, move out (Come on)\n  Even knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\n  Stick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\n  Stick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up\n\n  Now I'm the street talkin' (Street\n  Talkin'), dog walkin' (Dog walkin')\n  Approach me with extreme caution, oh, now you forcin'?\n  My hand'll rock your cradle off and I'm hot scorchin'\n  But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin', ain't tryna see central bookin'\n  So tell your goons stop lookin'\n  Know what you did last summer, so I started hookin'\n  You past shooken, off a open can of ass whoopin'\n  Ain't no tomorrows in the Method's Little Shop of Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the hill to harbor\n  You know the saga, marijuana blunts and gold schlager\n  With deadly medley, y'all ain't ready for Chiffon and Reggie\n  Don't even bother, the radio for backup (Backup)\n  Alright then, your man got slapped up, extorted for his ice and\n  Street life is triflin' (Body over here)\n  Don't make me pull a Tyson and bite a nigga ear\n  Precise and slicin' jugulars, the cutthroat\n  Ruggeder, predator, Viking, et cetera\n  People's champ, niggas be takin' on competitors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a bone\n  Straight from the catacomb, the children of the comb\n  (That don't got a clue) Prepare for Desert Storm\n\n  Get up, stand up, back up, push up (Come on)\n  Jump up, act up, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\n  Stick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\n  Stick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up\n  Yo, blackout, shootout, smoked out, move out (Come on)\n  Even knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\n  Stick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\n  Stick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up\n\n  Yo, I scored one point one on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, big dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind a brick wall with arsenic jaws\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit, draw\n  Gunned down at sundown, you keep score\n  This training course, and y'all ain't fit\n  On my crew tombstone, put \"We all ain't shit\"\n\n  Yo, all you gonna be, wannabe, when will you learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth, gotta wait your turn\n  I spit a.41 revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand, I mutilate MCs\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink, my shit stink\n  With every element from A to zinc, so what you think?\n  I'ma black out off just one drink? You must be crazy\n  A little off the wall maybe, go get a shrink\n\n  Get up, stand up, back up, push up (Come on)\n  Jump up, act up, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\n  Stick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\n  Stick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up\n  Yo, blackout, shootout, smoked out, move out (Come on)\n  Even knock your tooth out, to make y'all feel it (Brr)\n  Stick up (Hahaha), stick up (Brr)\n  Stick-stick up (Hahaha), stick up\n"},{"id":14082395,"name":"10.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - 1,2,1,2","trackName":"10.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - 1,2,1,2","artistName":"Method Man","albumName":"Blackout","duration":273.4268,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Come on\n1, 2, 1, 2, uh uh\n1, 2, 1, 2\nMr. Meth and Doc\n1, 2, 1, 2\nUh uh, 1, 2, 1, 2\nDJ scratch on the track\n1, 2, 1, 2\n1, 2, 1, 2\nBreak your motha fuckin' back\n1, 2, 1, 2\nAh yo, yo\n\nMy lyric is 8 ball, batter up play ball\nFuck ya'll analog, niggas, we be digital\nSubliminal comin', from the five star general\nAttack you from the blind side\nInvisible to the naked eye, where them criminals\nBetter have your eight essential vitamins and minerals\nThe wu is comin' through you know the outcome\nCritical condition in your physical for injurin'\nThe officer and gentleman who stack by the Benjamin\n\nOff a beat like this, I keep a night stick\nIn case any stick up care, where heat might miss\nI chicken fry rice bitch in a white trench\nBustin' off two macks, I'm like I'm hit\nYo, I'm just playin', I clear the crowd out\nLike a peppa spray can sprayin'\nI throw lightin' out the arms raiden\nGo guard your prey\nNext year I do nothin' more than Y2K\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAnd if you say fuck me\nI'ma say fuck you\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\nFrom debutant down to stripper\nI'm too nonchalant, a drink mixed with four kinds of liquors\nCatch me at the bar, 'Fu Bar', ladies know who we are\nAnd dream of fuckin' a star, who da scrub\nShotgun in this man car\nBurnin' up, forever gettin' thrown out the club\nIt be us Paul, shot out and bugged\nI smoke bud, sniff a bee's ass to get a buzz\nI'm everything you think you don't know\n\nYo man, I throw a 5 in the power\nPoppa wheely with the front end hittin speed bumps\n40 miles per hour\nI'm out at Howard, next to Baltimore\nTakin' change out the fountains at shoppin' malls\nRats can only afford chuck-e-cheese\nThe blood in my jeans is tough like Buddy Lee\nSemi-dart auto off ya, blood coughin'\nMeth pull a last spark plug with a heart pump\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nYo, wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAh yo\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAh yo\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAnd if you say fuck me\nI'ma say fuck you\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\nCall me Will, enemy I state\nWhen four doc run the scam\nNew jacks studderin', that the man from the upper hand\nPunch, atomic bomb I hit many\nFrom bricks to South Park, you dyin' with Kenny\nWhile you bailin', I'm trailin'\nRockin' hard hat helmets, clip the satellite surveillance\nWhen I walk by you better not be kickin'\nOr I put two more in that Terriyaki chicken\n\nYou've just been fitted for them seaman shoes\nThis is bottom of the lake raps\nStab you in the back\nKung fu\nFifty-two cops can't withstand the fifty-two blocks\nUnless they bust like fifty-two shots\nI'm the has been that have not\nBattle kids at Maxwell's house\n\nKnow when I'm good to the last drop\nWhat's my name, Meth, his name's Doc\nJust like urban\nSee me in the gran' transportation splurgin'\nDrivin' with a turban who push a black suburban\nCome on, we rollin' windows half down through the urban\nNetwork law lay it down like a Persian\nM to the E to the F, spell curtain\n\nGet out your car sucker\nThis ain't yours\nRobbed you with a gun that filled with paint balls\nAnd brauds got the nerve to act funny\nYou a champagne ho, with kool aide money\nFrown bitch, Doc up in that town quick\nYou back down a point on NFL blitz\nI'm lyin', buddah break fool and take two\nAnd put your hole in the earth to escape through\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAh yo\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\nWe say\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAh yo\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\nAnd if you say fuck me\nI'ma say fuck you\nWa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2, 2, 2\n\nYeah, yo\nDJ scratch\nNot ready for prime time playas\nMr. Meth, funk Doc\nDef Jam 2000 mutha fuckas\nCalm me down, baby\nNod your head to this\n\nCome on\nAh yo, this is WKYA Radio\nWe are kickin' your motha fuckin ass\nYo Flex\nThats right it's goin' down\nRedman, method man, blackin the funk out\nNow listen","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 10.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - 1,2,1,2\n  artist: Method Man\n  album: Blackout\n  duration_ms: 273427\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Come on\n  1, 2, 1, 2, uh uh\n  1, 2, 1, 2\n  Mr. Meth and Doc\n  1, 2, 1, 2\n  Uh uh, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  DJ scratch on the track\n  1, 2, 1, 2\n  1, 2, 1, 2\n  Break your motha fuckin' back\n  1, 2, 1, 2\n  Ah yo, yo\n\n  My lyric is 8 ball, batter up play ball\n  Fuck ya'll analog, niggas, we be digital\n  Subliminal comin', from the five star general\n  Attack you from the blind side\n  Invisible to the naked eye, where them criminals\n  Better have your eight essential vitamins and minerals\n  The wu is comin' through you know the outcome\n  Critical condition in your physical for injurin'\n  The officer and gentleman who stack by the Benjamin\n\n  Off a beat like this, I keep a night stick\n  In case any stick up care, where heat might miss\n  I chicken fry rice bitch in a white trench\n  Bustin' off two macks, I'm like I'm hit\n  Yo, I'm just playin', I clear the crowd out\n  Like a peppa spray can sprayin'\n  I throw lightin' out the arms raiden\n  Go guard your prey\n  Next year I do nothin' more than Y2K\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  And if you say fuck me\n  I'ma say fuck you\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\n  From debutant down to stripper\n  I'm too nonchalant, a drink mixed with four kinds of liquors\n  Catch me at the bar, 'Fu Bar', ladies know who we are\n  And dream of fuckin' a star, who da scrub\n  Shotgun in this man car\n  Burnin' up, forever gettin' thrown out the club\n  It be us Paul, shot out and bugged\n  I smoke bud, sniff a bee's ass to get a buzz\n  I'm everything you think you don't know\n\n  Yo man, I throw a 5 in the power\n  Poppa wheely with the front end hittin speed bumps\n  40 miles per hour\n  I'm out at Howard, next to Baltimore\n  Takin' change out the fountains at shoppin' malls\n  Rats can only afford chuck-e-cheese\n  The blood in my jeans is tough like Buddy Lee\n  Semi-dart auto off ya, blood coughin'\n  Meth pull a last spark plug with a heart pump\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Yo, wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Ah yo\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Ah yo\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  And if you say fuck me\n  I'ma say fuck you\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\n  Call me Will, enemy I state\n  When four doc run the scam\n  New jacks studderin', that the man from the upper hand\n  Punch, atomic bomb I hit many\n  From bricks to South Park, you dyin' with Kenny\n  While you bailin', I'm trailin'\n  Rockin' hard hat helmets, clip the satellite surveillance\n  When I walk by you better not be kickin'\n  Or I put two more in that Terriyaki chicken\n\n  You've just been fitted for them seaman shoes\n  This is bottom of the lake raps\n  Stab you in the back\n  Kung fu\n  Fifty-two cops can't withstand the fifty-two blocks\n  Unless they bust like fifty-two shots\n  I'm the has been that have not\n  Battle kids at Maxwell's house\n\n  Know when I'm good to the last drop\n  What's my name, Meth, his name's Doc\n  Just like urban\n  See me in the gran' transportation splurgin'\n  Drivin' with a turban who push a black suburban\n  Come on, we rollin' windows half down through the urban\n  Network law lay it down like a Persian\n  M to the E to the F, spell curtain\n\n  Get out your car sucker\n  This ain't yours\n  Robbed you with a gun that filled with paint balls\n  And brauds got the nerve to act funny\n  You a champagne ho, with kool aide money\n  Frown bitch, Doc up in that town quick\n  You back down a point on NFL blitz\n  I'm lyin', buddah break fool and take two\n  And put your hole in the earth to escape through\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Ah yo\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n\n  We say\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  Ah yo\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2\n  And if you say fuck me\n  I'ma say fuck you\n  Wa wa wa wa, 1, 2, 1, 2, 2, 2\n\n  Yeah, yo\n  DJ scratch\n  Not ready for prime time playas\n  Mr. Meth, funk Doc\n  Def Jam 2000 mutha fuckas\n  Calm me down, baby\n  Nod your head to this\n\n  Come on\n  Ah yo, this is WKYA Radio\n  We are kickin' your motha fuckin ass\n  Yo Flex\n  Thats right it's goin' down\n  Redman, method man, blackin the funk out\n  Now listen\n"},{"id":14080423,"name":"9.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - Where We At skit","trackName":"9.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - Where We At skit","artistName":"Method Man","albumName":"Blackout","duration":110.8499,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Hi.\nMy name's Mark.\nAnd I'm white.\nI live in a predominantly white neighborhood.\nI went to a predominantly white college.\nAnd I have predominantly all white friends.\nBut at night, while all my white friends are asleep,\nI bump this.\n\n[Redman]:\nYo let me ask ya'll a motherf**kin question. Where in the f**k are we at?\n\n[Method Man]:\nWhere we at? At?\n\n[Redman]:\nThe bri- the bricks...\n\n[Method Man]:\nShalon...\n\n[Redman]:\nYo\n\n[Method Man]:\nYo. Baby Mamas, baby Daddies. Lend us your motherf**kin ears. What we have here are two boys that are possessed. Possessed by dough, hos, and hydro. Where we at?\n\n[Redman]:\nThe bri- the bricks...\n\n[Method Man]:\nShalon...\n\nYo\n\n[Redman]:\nYo. We welcome ya'll motherf**kers back. To the Blackout tape nigga. Side two. And where we at?\nThe bri- the bricks...\n\n[Method Man]:\nShalon...\n\nYo\n\n[Redman]:\nYo. Terror in your motherf**kin area.\n\n[Method Man]:\n1-0-3-0-4 Detroit. Rock rock on.","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.08] Hi.\n[00:03.07] My name's Mark.\n[00:04.06] And I'm white.\n[00:05.08] I live in a predominantly white neighborhood.\n[00:07.06] I went to a predominantly white college.\n[00:09.02] And I have predominantly all white friends.\n[00:11.11] But at night, while all my white friends are asleep,\n[00:14.15] I bump this.\n[00:15.14] [Redman]:\n[00:17.18] Yo let me ask ya'll a motherf**kin question. Where in the f**k are we at?\n[00:31.25] [Method Man]:\n[00:32.29] Where we at? At?\n[00:33.23] [Redman]:\n[00:34.29] The bri- the bricks...\n[00:35.23] [Method Man]:\n[00:36.28] Shalon...\n[00:37.25] [Redman]:\n[00:38.23] Yo\n[00:40.17] [Method Man]:\n[00:45.27] Yo. Baby Mamas, baby Daddies. Lend us your motherf**kin ears. What we have here are two boys that are possessed. Possessed by dough, hos, and hydro. Where we at?\n[01:04.35] [Redman]:\n[01:05.36] The bri- the bricks...\n[01:06.36] [Method Man]:\n[01:07.45] Shalon...\n[01:08.46] Yo\n[01:09.42] [Redman]:\n[01:14.49] Yo. We welcome ya'll motherf**kers back. To the Blackout tape nigga. Side two. And where we at?\n[01:26.53] The bri- the bricks...\n[01:27.55] [Method Man]:\n[01:28.54] Shalon...\n[01:30.58] Yo\n[01:32.53] [Redman]:\n[01:34.52] Yo. Terror in your motherf**kin area.\n[01:45.64] [Method Man]:\n[01:48.40] 1-0-3-0-4 Detroit. Rock rock on.\n[01:50.58] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 9.Method Man (1999) & Redman - Blackout - Where We At skit\n  artist: Method Man\n  album: Blackout\n  duration_ms: 110850\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Hi.\n  start_ms: 2080\n  end_ms: 3070\n- text: My name's Mark.\n  start_ms: 3070\n  end_ms: 4060\n- text: And I'm white.\n  start_ms: 4060\n  end_ms: 5080\n- text: I live in a predominantly white neighborhood.\n  start_ms: 5080\n  end_ms: 7060\n- text: I went to a predominantly white college.\n  start_ms: 7060\n  end_ms: 9020\n- text: And I have predominantly all white friends.\n  start_ms: 9020\n  end_ms: 11110\n- text: But at night, while all my white friends are asleep,\n  start_ms: 11110\n  end_ms: 14150\n- text: I bump this.\n  start_ms: 14150\n  end_ms: 15140\n- text: '[Redman]:'\n  start_ms: 15140\n  end_ms: 17180\n- text: Yo let me ask ya'll a motherf**kin question. Where in the f**k are we at?\n  start_ms: 17180\n  end_ms: 31250\n- text: '[Method Man]:'\n  start_ms: 31250\n  end_ms: 32290\n- text: Where we at? At?\n  start_ms: 32290\n  end_ms: 33230\n- text: '[Redman]:'\n  start_ms: 33230\n  end_ms: 34290\n- text: The bri- the bricks...\n  start_ms: 34290\n  end_ms: 35230\n- text: '[Method Man]:'\n  start_ms: 35230\n  end_ms: 36280\n- text: Shalon...\n  start_ms: 36280\n  end_ms: 37250\n- text: '[Redman]:'\n  start_ms: 37250\n  end_ms: 38230\n- text: Yo\n  start_ms: 38230\n  end_ms: 40170\n- text: '[Method Man]:'\n  start_ms: 40170\n  end_ms: 45270\n- text: Yo. Baby Mamas, baby Daddies. Lend us your motherf**kin ears. What we have here are two boys that are possessed. Possessed by dough, hos, and hydro. Where we at?\n  start_ms: 45270\n  end_ms: 64350\n- text: '[Redman]:'\n  start_ms: 64350\n  end_ms: 65360\n- text: The bri- the bricks...\n  start_ms: 65360\n  end_ms: 66360\n- text: '[Method Man]:'\n  start_ms: 66360\n  end_ms: 67450\n- text: Shalon...\n  start_ms: 67450\n  end_ms: 68460\n- text: Yo\n  start_ms: 68460\n  end_ms: 69420\n- text: '[Redman]:'\n  start_ms: 69420\n  end_ms: 74490\n- text: Yo. We welcome ya'll motherf**kers back. To the Blackout tape nigga. Side two. And where we at?\n  start_ms: 74490\n  end_ms: 86530\n- text: The bri- the bricks...\n  start_ms: 86530\n  end_ms: 87550\n- text: '[Method Man]:'\n  start_ms: 87550\n  end_ms: 88540\n- text: Shalon...\n  start_ms: 88540\n  end_ms: 90580\n- text: Yo\n  start_ms: 90580\n  end_ms: 92530\n- text: '[Redman]:'\n  start_ms: 92530\n  end_ms: 94520\n- text: Yo. Terror in your motherf**kin area.\n  start_ms: 94520\n  end_ms: 105640\n- text: '[Method Man]:'\n  start_ms: 105640\n  end_ms: 108400\n- text: 1-0-3-0-4 Detroit. Rock rock on.\n  start_ms: 108400\n  end_ms: 110580\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 110580\nplain: |-\n  Hi.\n  My name's Mark.\n  And I'm white.\n  I live in a predominantly white neighborhood.\n  I went to a predominantly white college.\n  And I have predominantly all white friends.\n  But at night, while all my white friends are asleep,\n  I bump this.\n\n  [Redman]:\n  Yo let me ask ya'll a motherf**kin question. Where in the f**k are we at?\n\n  [Method Man]:\n  Where we at? At?\n\n  [Redman]:\n  The bri- the bricks...\n\n  [Method Man]:\n  Shalon...\n\n  [Redman]:\n  Yo\n\n  [Method Man]:\n  Yo. Baby Mamas, baby Daddies. Lend us your motherf**kin ears. What we have here are two boys that are possessed. Possessed by dough, hos, and hydro. Where we at?\n\n  [Redman]:\n  The bri- the bricks...\n\n  [Method Man]:\n  Shalon...\n\n  Yo\n\n  [Redman]:\n  Yo. We welcome ya'll motherf**kers back. To the Blackout tape nigga. Side two. And where we at?\n  The bri- the bricks...\n\n  [Method Man]:\n  Shalon...\n\n  Yo\n\n  [Redman]:\n  Yo. Terror in your motherf**kin area.\n\n  [Method Man]:\n  1-0-3-0-4 Detroit. Rock rock on.\n"},{"id":2242262,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":223.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nT.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nSome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nScorchin',\nBut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nAin't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nSummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nTo (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nAnd\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nHis\nIcin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nBone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nLearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\nDrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.06] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.82] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.66] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.39] T.v.\n[00:30.85] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.80] Project-ballers\n[00:33.63] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.48] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.13] Some heard round town\n[00:38.98] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.16] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.43] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.57] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.17] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.06] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.57] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.03] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.40] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.03] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.65] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.84] OUT,\n[01:15.38] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.14] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.42] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.24] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.50] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.17] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.32] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.14] Scorchin',\n[01:30.13] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.29] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.32] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.23] Summer?\n[01:39.17] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.43] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.13] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.39] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.90] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.46] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.87] Goldschlager\n[01:50.39] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.18] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.86] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.23] His\n[01:54.03] Icin'\n[01:59.44] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.66] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.40] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.18] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.94] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.46] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.58] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.68] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.87] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.00] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.45] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.94] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.75] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.38] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.75] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.68] Learn?\n[03:01.58] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.88] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.04] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.53] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.39] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.46] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.62] Drink?\n[03:18.08] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.72] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.66] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 223000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20060\n  end_ms: 20820\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20820\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22660\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22660\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28390\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28390\n  end_ms: 30850\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30850\n  end_ms: 31800\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31800\n  end_ms: 33630\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33630\n  end_ms: 35480\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35480\n  end_ms: 37130\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37130\n  end_ms: 38980\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38980\n  end_ms: 41160\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41160\n  end_ms: 43430\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43430\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56170\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56170\n  end_ms: 58060\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58060\n  end_ms: 61570\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61570\n  end_ms: 64030\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64030\n  end_ms: 66400\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66400\n  end_ms: 69030\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69030\n  end_ms: 71650\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71650\n  end_ms: 73840\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73840\n  end_ms: 75380\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75380\n  end_ms: 76140\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76140\n  end_ms: 77420\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77420\n  end_ms: 78240\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78240\n  end_ms: 81500\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81500\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85170\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85170\n  end_ms: 87320\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87320\n  end_ms: 89140\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89140\n  end_ms: 90130\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90130\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92290\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92290\n  end_ms: 94320\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94320\n  end_ms: 96230\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96230\n  end_ms: 99170\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99170\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101430\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101430\n  end_ms: 103130\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103130\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104390\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104390\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109460\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109460\n  end_ms: 109870\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109870\n  end_ms: 110390\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110390\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111180\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111180\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112860\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112860\n  end_ms: 113230\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113230\n  end_ms: 114030\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114030\n  end_ms: 119440\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119440\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121660\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121660\n  end_ms: 122400\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122400\n  end_ms: 124180\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124180\n  end_ms: 127940\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127940\n  end_ms: 131460\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131460\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133580\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133580\n  end_ms: 135680\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135680\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160870\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160870\n  end_ms: 162000\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162000\n  end_ms: 165450\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165450\n  end_ms: 168940\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168940\n  end_ms: 171750\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171750\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176380\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176380\n  end_ms: 178750\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178750\n  end_ms: 180680\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180680\n  end_ms: 181580\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181580\n  end_ms: 182880\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182880\n  end_ms: 186040\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186040\n  end_ms: 189530\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189530\n  end_ms: 190390\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190390\n  end_ms: 193460\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193460\n  end_ms: 195620\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195620\n  end_ms: 198080\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198080\n  end_ms: 198720\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198720\n  end_ms: 201660\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201660\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  T.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  Some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  Scorchin',\n  But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  Summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  To (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  And\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  His\n  Icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  Bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  Learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  Drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":32034891,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man, Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":219.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nT.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nSome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nScorchin',\nBut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nAin't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nSummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nTo (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nAnd\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nHis\nIcin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nBone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nLearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\nDrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.06] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.82] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.66] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.39] T.v.\n[00:30.85] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.80] Project-ballers\n[00:33.63] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.48] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.13] Some heard round town\n[00:38.98] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.16] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.43] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.57] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.17] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.06] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.57] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.03] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.40] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.03] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.65] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.84] OUT,\n[01:15.38] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.14] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.42] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.24] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.50] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.17] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.32] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.14] Scorchin',\n[01:30.13] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.29] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.32] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.23] Summer?\n[01:39.17] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.43] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.13] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.39] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.90] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.46] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.87] Goldschlager\n[01:50.39] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.18] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.86] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.23] His\n[01:54.03] Icin'\n[01:59.44] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.66] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.40] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.18] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.94] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.46] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.58] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.68] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.87] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.00] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.45] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.94] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.75] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.38] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.75] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.68] Learn?\n[03:01.58] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.88] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.04] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.53] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.39] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.46] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.62] Drink?\n[03:18.08] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.72] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.66] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: Method Man, Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 219000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20060\n  end_ms: 20820\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20820\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22660\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22660\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28390\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28390\n  end_ms: 30850\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30850\n  end_ms: 31800\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31800\n  end_ms: 33630\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33630\n  end_ms: 35480\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35480\n  end_ms: 37130\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37130\n  end_ms: 38980\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38980\n  end_ms: 41160\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41160\n  end_ms: 43430\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43430\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56170\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56170\n  end_ms: 58060\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58060\n  end_ms: 61570\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61570\n  end_ms: 64030\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64030\n  end_ms: 66400\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66400\n  end_ms: 69030\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69030\n  end_ms: 71650\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71650\n  end_ms: 73840\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73840\n  end_ms: 75380\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75380\n  end_ms: 76140\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76140\n  end_ms: 77420\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77420\n  end_ms: 78240\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78240\n  end_ms: 81500\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81500\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85170\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85170\n  end_ms: 87320\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87320\n  end_ms: 89140\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89140\n  end_ms: 90130\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90130\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92290\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92290\n  end_ms: 94320\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94320\n  end_ms: 96230\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96230\n  end_ms: 99170\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99170\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101430\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101430\n  end_ms: 103130\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103130\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104390\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104390\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109460\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109460\n  end_ms: 109870\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109870\n  end_ms: 110390\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110390\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111180\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111180\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112860\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112860\n  end_ms: 113230\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113230\n  end_ms: 114030\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114030\n  end_ms: 119440\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119440\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121660\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121660\n  end_ms: 122400\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122400\n  end_ms: 124180\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124180\n  end_ms: 127940\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127940\n  end_ms: 131460\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131460\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133580\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133580\n  end_ms: 135680\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135680\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160870\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160870\n  end_ms: 162000\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162000\n  end_ms: 165450\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165450\n  end_ms: 168940\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168940\n  end_ms: 171750\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171750\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176380\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176380\n  end_ms: 178750\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178750\n  end_ms: 180680\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180680\n  end_ms: 181580\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181580\n  end_ms: 182880\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182880\n  end_ms: 186040\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186040\n  end_ms: 189530\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189530\n  end_ms: 190390\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190390\n  end_ms: 193460\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193460\n  end_ms: 195620\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195620\n  end_ms: 198080\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198080\n  end_ms: 198720\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198720\n  end_ms: 201660\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201660\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  T.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  Some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  Scorchin',\n  But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  Summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  To (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  And\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  His\n  Icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  Bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  Learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  Drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":19256006,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":265.2015,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nT.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nSome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nScorchin',\nBut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nAin't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nSummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nTo (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nAnd\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nHis\nIcin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nBone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nLearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\nDrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.06] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.82] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.66] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.39] T.v.\n[00:30.85] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.80] Project-ballers\n[00:33.63] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.48] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.13] Some heard round town\n[00:38.98] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.16] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.43] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.57] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.17] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.06] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.57] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.03] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.40] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.03] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.65] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.84] OUT,\n[01:15.38] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.14] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.42] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.24] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.50] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.17] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.32] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.14] Scorchin',\n[01:30.13] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.29] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.32] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.23] Summer?\n[01:39.17] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.43] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.13] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.39] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.90] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.46] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.87] Goldschlager\n[01:50.39] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.18] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.86] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.23] His\n[01:54.03] Icin'\n[01:59.44] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.66] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.40] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.18] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.94] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.46] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.58] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.68] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.87] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.00] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.45] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.94] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.75] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.38] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.75] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.68] Learn?\n[03:01.58] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.88] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.04] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.53] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.39] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.46] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.62] Drink?\n[03:18.08] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.72] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.66] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 265202\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20060\n  end_ms: 20820\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20820\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22660\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22660\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28390\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28390\n  end_ms: 30850\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30850\n  end_ms: 31800\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31800\n  end_ms: 33630\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33630\n  end_ms: 35480\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35480\n  end_ms: 37130\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37130\n  end_ms: 38980\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38980\n  end_ms: 41160\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41160\n  end_ms: 43430\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43430\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56170\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56170\n  end_ms: 58060\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58060\n  end_ms: 61570\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61570\n  end_ms: 64030\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64030\n  end_ms: 66400\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66400\n  end_ms: 69030\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69030\n  end_ms: 71650\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71650\n  end_ms: 73840\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73840\n  end_ms: 75380\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75380\n  end_ms: 76140\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76140\n  end_ms: 77420\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77420\n  end_ms: 78240\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78240\n  end_ms: 81500\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81500\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85170\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85170\n  end_ms: 87320\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87320\n  end_ms: 89140\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89140\n  end_ms: 90130\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90130\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92290\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92290\n  end_ms: 94320\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94320\n  end_ms: 96230\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96230\n  end_ms: 99170\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99170\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101430\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101430\n  end_ms: 103130\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103130\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104390\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104390\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109460\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109460\n  end_ms: 109870\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109870\n  end_ms: 110390\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110390\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111180\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111180\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112860\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112860\n  end_ms: 113230\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113230\n  end_ms: 114030\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114030\n  end_ms: 119440\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119440\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121660\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121660\n  end_ms: 122400\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122400\n  end_ms: 124180\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124180\n  end_ms: 127940\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127940\n  end_ms: 131460\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131460\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133580\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133580\n  end_ms: 135680\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135680\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160870\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160870\n  end_ms: 162000\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162000\n  end_ms: 165450\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165450\n  end_ms: 168940\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168940\n  end_ms: 171750\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171750\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176380\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176380\n  end_ms: 178750\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178750\n  end_ms: 180680\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180680\n  end_ms: 181580\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181580\n  end_ms: 182880\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182880\n  end_ms: 186040\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186040\n  end_ms: 189530\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189530\n  end_ms: 190390\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190390\n  end_ms: 193460\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193460\n  end_ms: 195620\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195620\n  end_ms: 198080\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198080\n  end_ms: 198720\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198720\n  end_ms: 201660\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201660\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  T.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  Some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  Scorchin',\n  But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  Summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  To (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  And\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  His\n  Icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  Bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  Learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  Drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":19072862,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":227.771525,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nT.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nSome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nScorchin',\nBut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nAin't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nSummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nTo (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nAnd\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nHis\nIcin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nBone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nLearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\nDrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.06] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.82] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.66] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.39] T.v.\n[00:30.85] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.80] Project-ballers\n[00:33.63] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.48] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.13] Some heard round town\n[00:38.98] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.16] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.43] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.57] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.17] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.06] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.57] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.03] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.40] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.03] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.65] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.84] OUT,\n[01:15.38] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.14] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.42] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.24] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.50] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.17] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.32] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.14] Scorchin',\n[01:30.13] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.29] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.32] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.23] Summer?\n[01:39.17] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.43] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.13] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.39] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.90] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.46] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.87] Goldschlager\n[01:50.39] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.18] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.86] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.23] His\n[01:54.03] Icin'\n[01:59.44] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.66] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.40] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.18] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.94] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.46] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.58] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.68] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.87] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.00] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.45] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.94] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.75] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.38] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.75] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.68] Learn?\n[03:01.58] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.88] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.04] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.53] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.39] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.46] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.62] Drink?\n[03:18.08] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.72] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.66] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 227772\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20060\n  end_ms: 20820\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20820\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22660\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22660\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28390\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28390\n  end_ms: 30850\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30850\n  end_ms: 31800\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31800\n  end_ms: 33630\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33630\n  end_ms: 35480\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35480\n  end_ms: 37130\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37130\n  end_ms: 38980\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38980\n  end_ms: 41160\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41160\n  end_ms: 43430\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43430\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56170\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56170\n  end_ms: 58060\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58060\n  end_ms: 61570\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61570\n  end_ms: 64030\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64030\n  end_ms: 66400\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66400\n  end_ms: 69030\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69030\n  end_ms: 71650\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71650\n  end_ms: 73840\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73840\n  end_ms: 75380\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75380\n  end_ms: 76140\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76140\n  end_ms: 77420\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77420\n  end_ms: 78240\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78240\n  end_ms: 81500\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81500\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85170\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85170\n  end_ms: 87320\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87320\n  end_ms: 89140\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89140\n  end_ms: 90130\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90130\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92290\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92290\n  end_ms: 94320\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94320\n  end_ms: 96230\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96230\n  end_ms: 99170\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99170\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101430\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101430\n  end_ms: 103130\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103130\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104390\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104390\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109460\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109460\n  end_ms: 109870\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109870\n  end_ms: 110390\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110390\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111180\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111180\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112860\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112860\n  end_ms: 113230\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113230\n  end_ms: 114030\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114030\n  end_ms: 119440\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119440\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121660\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121660\n  end_ms: 122400\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122400\n  end_ms: 124180\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124180\n  end_ms: 127940\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127940\n  end_ms: 131460\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131460\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133580\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133580\n  end_ms: 135680\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135680\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160870\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160870\n  end_ms: 162000\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162000\n  end_ms: 165450\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165450\n  end_ms: 168940\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168940\n  end_ms: 171750\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171750\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176380\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176380\n  end_ms: 178750\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178750\n  end_ms: 180680\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180680\n  end_ms: 181580\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181580\n  end_ms: 182880\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182880\n  end_ms: 186040\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186040\n  end_ms: 189530\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189530\n  end_ms: 190390\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190390\n  end_ms: 193460\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193460\n  end_ms: 195620\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195620\n  end_ms: 198080\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198080\n  end_ms: 198720\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198720\n  end_ms: 201660\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201660\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  T.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  Some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  Scorchin',\n  But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  Summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  To (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  And\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  His\n  Icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  Bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  Learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  Drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":16444791,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man\u0000Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":223.346939,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nt.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nsome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nscorchin',\nbut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nain't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nsummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nto (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nand\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nhis\nicin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nbone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nlearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\ndrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.01] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.87] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.63] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.35] T.v.\n[00:30.81] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.76] Project-ballers\n[00:33.69] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.43] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.16] Some heard round town\n[00:38.95] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.20] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.42] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.56] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.11] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.08] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.54] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.01] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.38] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.05] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.62] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.81] OUT,\n[01:15.35] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.12] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.47] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.21] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.56] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.19] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.37] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.11] Scorchin',\n[01:30.14] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.21] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.39] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.20] Summer?\n[01:39.15] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.46] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.16] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.32] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.92] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.48] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.84] Goldschlager\n[01:50.30] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.13] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.87] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.25] His\n[01:54.09] Icin'\n[01:59.43] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.67] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.36] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.13] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.96] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.44] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.57] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.67] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.88] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.05] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.41] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.93] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.71] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.40] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.80] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.70] Learn?\n[03:01.53] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.83] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.09] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.55] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.35] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.40] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.69] Drink?\n[03:18.03] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.78] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.65] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: \"Method Man\\0Redman\"\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 223347\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20010\n  end_ms: 20870\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20870\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22630\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22630\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28350\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28350\n  end_ms: 30810\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30810\n  end_ms: 31760\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31760\n  end_ms: 33690\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33690\n  end_ms: 35430\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35430\n  end_ms: 37160\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37160\n  end_ms: 38950\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38950\n  end_ms: 41200\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41200\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 45560\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45560\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56110\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56110\n  end_ms: 58080\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58080\n  end_ms: 61540\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61540\n  end_ms: 64010\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64010\n  end_ms: 66380\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66380\n  end_ms: 69050\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69050\n  end_ms: 71620\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71620\n  end_ms: 73810\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73810\n  end_ms: 75350\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75350\n  end_ms: 76120\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76120\n  end_ms: 77470\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77470\n  end_ms: 78210\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78210\n  end_ms: 81560\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81560\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85190\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85190\n  end_ms: 87370\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87370\n  end_ms: 89110\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89110\n  end_ms: 90140\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90140\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92210\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92210\n  end_ms: 94390\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94390\n  end_ms: 96200\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96200\n  end_ms: 99150\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99150\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101460\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101460\n  end_ms: 103160\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103160\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104320\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104320\n  end_ms: 105920\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105920\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109480\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109480\n  end_ms: 109840\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109840\n  end_ms: 110300\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110300\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111130\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111130\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112870\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112870\n  end_ms: 113250\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113250\n  end_ms: 114090\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114090\n  end_ms: 119430\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119430\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121670\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121670\n  end_ms: 122360\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122360\n  end_ms: 124130\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124130\n  end_ms: 127960\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127960\n  end_ms: 131440\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131440\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133570\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133570\n  end_ms: 135670\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135670\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160880\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160880\n  end_ms: 162050\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162050\n  end_ms: 165410\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165410\n  end_ms: 168930\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168930\n  end_ms: 171710\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171710\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178800\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178800\n  end_ms: 180700\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180700\n  end_ms: 181530\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181530\n  end_ms: 182830\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182830\n  end_ms: 186090\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186090\n  end_ms: 189550\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189550\n  end_ms: 190350\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190350\n  end_ms: 193400\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193400\n  end_ms: 195690\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195690\n  end_ms: 198030\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198030\n  end_ms: 198780\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198780\n  end_ms: 201650\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201650\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  t.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  scorchin',\n  but stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  to (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  and\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  his\n  icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":14137094,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":225.306667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nt.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nsome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nscorchin',\nbut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nain't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nsummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nto (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nand\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nhis\nicin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nbone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nlearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\ndrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:19.81] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.43] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.50] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:24.23] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:25.94] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.84] T.v.\n[00:29.35] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.82] Project-ballers\n[00:33.16] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:34.89] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:36.67] Some heard round town\n[00:38.09] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:40.77] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.45] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.88] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.34] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.02] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.42] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.19] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.37] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.04] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:03.76] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.26] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:08.94] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.30] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.47] OUT,\n[01:13.91] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:15.87] FEEL IT!\n[01:16.63] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:19.09] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.41] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:24.15] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:26.03] FORCIN'?\n[01:26.82] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:28.47] Scorchin',\n[01:29.37] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.95] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.61] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.48] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.93] Summer?\n[01:37.79] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:38.53] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:40.93] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:42.38] Of\n[01:42.89] Horrors\n[01:43.90] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.02] (Park)Hill\n[01:45.63] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:45.83] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:47.70] Goldschlager\n[01:48.60] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.37] And\n[01:50.86] Reggie\n[01:51.45] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:53.31] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:56.08] His\n[01:56.21] Icin'\n[01:57.32] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[01:59.85] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:02.25] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:04.42] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:07.66] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:10.19] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:12.23] Bone\n[02:12.87] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:14.15] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:16.89] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.02] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.27] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.98] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.66] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.37] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.01] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.57] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:55.93] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.31] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.57] Learn?\n[03:01.05] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:03.22] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:05.90] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:08.65] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.51] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:12.78] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.12] Drink?\n[03:15.77] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.18] Go get a shrink...\n[03:19.20] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 225307\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 19810\n  end_ms: 20430\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20430\n  end_ms: 21500\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21500\n  end_ms: 24230\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 24230\n  end_ms: 25940\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 25940\n  end_ms: 28840\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28840\n  end_ms: 29350\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 29350\n  end_ms: 31820\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31820\n  end_ms: 33160\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33160\n  end_ms: 34890\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 34890\n  end_ms: 36670\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 36670\n  end_ms: 38090\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38090\n  end_ms: 40770\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 40770\n  end_ms: 43450\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43450\n  end_ms: 45880\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45880\n  end_ms: 48340\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48340\n  end_ms: 51020\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51020\n  end_ms: 53420\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53420\n  end_ms: 56190\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56190\n  end_ms: 58370\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58370\n  end_ms: 61040\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61040\n  end_ms: 63760\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 63760\n  end_ms: 66260\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66260\n  end_ms: 68940\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 68940\n  end_ms: 71300\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71300\n  end_ms: 73470\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73470\n  end_ms: 73910\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 73910\n  end_ms: 75870\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 75870\n  end_ms: 76630\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 76630\n  end_ms: 79090\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 79090\n  end_ms: 81410\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81410\n  end_ms: 84150\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 84150\n  end_ms: 86030\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 86030\n  end_ms: 86820\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 86820\n  end_ms: 88470\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 88470\n  end_ms: 89370\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 89370\n  end_ms: 90950\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90950\n  end_ms: 92610\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92610\n  end_ms: 94480\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94480\n  end_ms: 96930\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96930\n  end_ms: 97790\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 97790\n  end_ms: 98530\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 98530\n  end_ms: 100930\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 100930\n  end_ms: 102380\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 102380\n  end_ms: 102890\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 102890\n  end_ms: 103900\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 103900\n  end_ms: 105020\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105020\n  end_ms: 105630\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 105630\n  end_ms: 105830\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 105830\n  end_ms: 107700\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 107700\n  end_ms: 108600\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 108600\n  end_ms: 110370\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110370\n  end_ms: 110860\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 110860\n  end_ms: 111450\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 111450\n  end_ms: 113310\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 113310\n  end_ms: 116080\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 116080\n  end_ms: 116210\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 116210\n  end_ms: 117320\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 117320\n  end_ms: 119850\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 119850\n  end_ms: 122250\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 122250\n  end_ms: 124420\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 124420\n  end_ms: 127660\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 127660\n  end_ms: 130190\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 130190\n  end_ms: 132230\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 132230\n  end_ms: 132870\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132870\n  end_ms: 134150\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 134150\n  end_ms: 136890\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 136890\n  end_ms: 158020\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158020\n  end_ms: 160270\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160270\n  end_ms: 162980\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162980\n  end_ms: 165660\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165660\n  end_ms: 168370\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168370\n  end_ms: 171010\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171010\n  end_ms: 173570\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173570\n  end_ms: 175930\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 175930\n  end_ms: 178310\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178310\n  end_ms: 180570\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180570\n  end_ms: 181050\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181050\n  end_ms: 183220\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 183220\n  end_ms: 185900\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 185900\n  end_ms: 188650\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 188650\n  end_ms: 190510\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190510\n  end_ms: 192780\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 192780\n  end_ms: 195120\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195120\n  end_ms: 195770\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 195770\n  end_ms: 198180\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198180\n  end_ms: 199200\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 199200\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  t.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  scorchin',\n  but stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  to (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  and\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  his\n  icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":28427808,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":268.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nT.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nSome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nScorchin',\nBut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nAin't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nSummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nTo (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nAnd\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nHis\nIcin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nBone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nLearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\nDrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.06] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.82] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.66] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.39] T.v.\n[00:30.85] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.80] Project-ballers\n[00:33.63] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.48] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.13] Some heard round town\n[00:38.98] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.16] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.43] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.57] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.17] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.06] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.57] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.03] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.40] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.03] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.65] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.84] OUT,\n[01:15.38] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.14] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.42] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.24] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.50] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.17] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.32] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.14] Scorchin',\n[01:30.13] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.29] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.32] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.23] Summer?\n[01:39.17] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.43] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.13] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.39] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.90] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.46] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.87] Goldschlager\n[01:50.39] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.18] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.86] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.23] His\n[01:54.03] Icin'\n[01:59.44] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.66] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.40] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.18] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.94] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.46] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.58] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.68] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.87] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.00] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.45] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.94] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.75] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.38] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.75] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.68] Learn?\n[03:01.58] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.88] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.04] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.53] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.39] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.46] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.62] Drink?\n[03:18.08] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.72] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.66] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 268000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20060\n  end_ms: 20820\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20820\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22660\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22660\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28390\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28390\n  end_ms: 30850\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30850\n  end_ms: 31800\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31800\n  end_ms: 33630\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33630\n  end_ms: 35480\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35480\n  end_ms: 37130\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37130\n  end_ms: 38980\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38980\n  end_ms: 41160\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41160\n  end_ms: 43430\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43430\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56170\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56170\n  end_ms: 58060\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58060\n  end_ms: 61570\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61570\n  end_ms: 64030\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64030\n  end_ms: 66400\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66400\n  end_ms: 69030\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69030\n  end_ms: 71650\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71650\n  end_ms: 73840\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73840\n  end_ms: 75380\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75380\n  end_ms: 76140\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76140\n  end_ms: 77420\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77420\n  end_ms: 78240\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78240\n  end_ms: 81500\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81500\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85170\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85170\n  end_ms: 87320\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87320\n  end_ms: 89140\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89140\n  end_ms: 90130\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90130\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92290\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92290\n  end_ms: 94320\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94320\n  end_ms: 96230\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96230\n  end_ms: 99170\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99170\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101430\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101430\n  end_ms: 103130\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103130\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104390\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104390\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109460\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109460\n  end_ms: 109870\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109870\n  end_ms: 110390\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110390\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111180\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111180\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112860\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112860\n  end_ms: 113230\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113230\n  end_ms: 114030\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114030\n  end_ms: 119440\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119440\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121660\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121660\n  end_ms: 122400\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122400\n  end_ms: 124180\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124180\n  end_ms: 127940\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127940\n  end_ms: 131460\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131460\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133580\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133580\n  end_ms: 135680\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135680\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160870\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160870\n  end_ms: 162000\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162000\n  end_ms: 165450\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165450\n  end_ms: 168940\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168940\n  end_ms: 171750\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171750\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176380\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176380\n  end_ms: 178750\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178750\n  end_ms: 180680\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180680\n  end_ms: 181580\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181580\n  end_ms: 182880\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182880\n  end_ms: 186040\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186040\n  end_ms: 189530\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189530\n  end_ms: 190390\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190390\n  end_ms: 193460\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193460\n  end_ms: 195620\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195620\n  end_ms: 198080\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198080\n  end_ms: 198720\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198720\n  end_ms: 201660\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201660\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  T.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  Some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  Scorchin',\n  But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  Summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  To (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  And\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  His\n  Icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  Bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  Learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  Drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":5331514,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man And Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":223.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nT.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nSome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nScorchin',\nBut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nAin't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nSummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nTo (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nAnd\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nHis\nIcin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nBone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nLearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\nDrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.01] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.87] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.63] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.35] T.v.\n[00:30.81] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.76] Project-ballers\n[00:33.69] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.43] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.16] Some heard round town\n[00:38.95] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.20] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.42] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.56] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.11] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.08] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.54] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.01] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.38] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.05] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.62] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.81] OUT,\n[01:15.35] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.12] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.47] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.21] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.56] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.19] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.37] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.11] Scorchin',\n[01:30.14] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.21] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.39] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.20] Summer?\n[01:39.15] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.46] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.16] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.32] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.92] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.48] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.84] Goldschlager\n[01:50.30] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.13] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.87] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.25] His\n[01:54.09] Icin'\n[01:59.43] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.67] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.36] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.13] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.96] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.44] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.57] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.67] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.88] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.05] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.41] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.93] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.71] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.40] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.80] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.70] Learn?\n[03:01.53] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.83] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.09] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.55] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.35] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.40] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.69] Drink?\n[03:18.03] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.78] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.65] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: Method Man And Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 223000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20010\n  end_ms: 20870\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20870\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22630\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22630\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28350\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28350\n  end_ms: 30810\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30810\n  end_ms: 31760\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31760\n  end_ms: 33690\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33690\n  end_ms: 35430\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35430\n  end_ms: 37160\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37160\n  end_ms: 38950\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38950\n  end_ms: 41200\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41200\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 45560\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45560\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56110\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56110\n  end_ms: 58080\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58080\n  end_ms: 61540\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61540\n  end_ms: 64010\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64010\n  end_ms: 66380\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66380\n  end_ms: 69050\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69050\n  end_ms: 71620\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71620\n  end_ms: 73810\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73810\n  end_ms: 75350\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75350\n  end_ms: 76120\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76120\n  end_ms: 77470\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77470\n  end_ms: 78210\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78210\n  end_ms: 81560\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81560\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85190\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85190\n  end_ms: 87370\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87370\n  end_ms: 89110\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89110\n  end_ms: 90140\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90140\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92210\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92210\n  end_ms: 94390\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94390\n  end_ms: 96200\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96200\n  end_ms: 99150\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99150\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101460\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101460\n  end_ms: 103160\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103160\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104320\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104320\n  end_ms: 105920\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105920\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109480\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109480\n  end_ms: 109840\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109840\n  end_ms: 110300\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110300\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111130\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111130\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112870\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112870\n  end_ms: 113250\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113250\n  end_ms: 114090\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114090\n  end_ms: 119430\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119430\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121670\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121670\n  end_ms: 122360\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122360\n  end_ms: 124130\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124130\n  end_ms: 127960\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127960\n  end_ms: 131440\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131440\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133570\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133570\n  end_ms: 135670\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135670\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160880\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160880\n  end_ms: 162050\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162050\n  end_ms: 165410\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165410\n  end_ms: 168930\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168930\n  end_ms: 171710\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171710\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178800\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178800\n  end_ms: 180700\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180700\n  end_ms: 181530\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181530\n  end_ms: 182830\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182830\n  end_ms: 186090\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186090\n  end_ms: 189550\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189550\n  end_ms: 190350\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190350\n  end_ms: 193400\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193400\n  end_ms: 195690\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195690\n  end_ms: 198030\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198030\n  end_ms: 198780\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198780\n  end_ms: 201650\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201650\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  T.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  Some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  Scorchin',\n  But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  Summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  To (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  And\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  His\n  Icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  Bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  Learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  Drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":1412014,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man feat. Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":223.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nT.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nSome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nScorchin',\nBut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nAin't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nSummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nTo (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nAnd\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nHis\nIcin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nBone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nLearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\nDrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:19.85] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.41] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.55] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:24.21] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:25.99] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.86] T.v.\n[00:29.39] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.84] Project-ballers\n[00:33.18] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:34.83] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:36.66] Some heard round town\n[00:38.06] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:40.71] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.45] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.85] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.33] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.08] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.44] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.20] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.32] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.04] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:03.78] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.26] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:08.93] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.33] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.49] OUT,\n[01:13.95] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:15.85] FEEL IT!\n[01:16.67] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:19.03] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.41] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:24.12] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:26.05] FORCIN'?\n[01:26.87] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:28.43] Scorchin',\n[01:29.33] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.93] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.61] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.48] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.93] Summer?\n[01:37.73] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:38.53] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:40.99] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:42.36] Of\n[01:42.89] Horrors\n[01:43.94] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.10] (Park)Hill\n[01:45.68] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:45.89] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:47.78] Goldschlager\n[01:48.51] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.34] And\n[01:50.87] Reggie\n[01:51.47] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:53.36] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:56.02] His\n[01:56.24] Icin'\n[01:57.32] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[01:59.88] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:02.22] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:04.46] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:07.69] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:10.14] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:12.29] Bone\n[02:12.86] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:14.16] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:16.81] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.08] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.28] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.10] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.62] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.31] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.03] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.59] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:55.96] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.33] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.53] Learn?\n[03:01.05] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:03.20] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:05.91] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:08.64] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.50] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:12.75] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.13] Drink?\n[03:15.78] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.11] Go get a shrink...\n[03:19.14] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: Method Man feat. Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 223000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 19850\n  end_ms: 20410\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20410\n  end_ms: 21550\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21550\n  end_ms: 24210\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 24210\n  end_ms: 25990\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 25990\n  end_ms: 28860\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28860\n  end_ms: 29390\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 29390\n  end_ms: 31840\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31840\n  end_ms: 33180\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33180\n  end_ms: 34830\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 34830\n  end_ms: 36660\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 36660\n  end_ms: 38060\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38060\n  end_ms: 40710\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 40710\n  end_ms: 43450\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43450\n  end_ms: 45850\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45850\n  end_ms: 48330\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48330\n  end_ms: 51080\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51080\n  end_ms: 53440\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53440\n  end_ms: 56200\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56200\n  end_ms: 58320\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58320\n  end_ms: 61040\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61040\n  end_ms: 63780\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 63780\n  end_ms: 66260\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66260\n  end_ms: 68930\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 68930\n  end_ms: 71330\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71330\n  end_ms: 73490\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73490\n  end_ms: 73950\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 73950\n  end_ms: 75850\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 75850\n  end_ms: 76670\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 76670\n  end_ms: 79030\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 79030\n  end_ms: 81410\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81410\n  end_ms: 84120\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 84120\n  end_ms: 86050\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 86050\n  end_ms: 86870\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 86870\n  end_ms: 88430\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 88430\n  end_ms: 89330\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 89330\n  end_ms: 90930\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90930\n  end_ms: 92610\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92610\n  end_ms: 94480\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94480\n  end_ms: 96930\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96930\n  end_ms: 97730\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 97730\n  end_ms: 98530\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 98530\n  end_ms: 100990\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 100990\n  end_ms: 102360\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 102360\n  end_ms: 102890\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 102890\n  end_ms: 103940\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 103940\n  end_ms: 105100\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105100\n  end_ms: 105680\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 105680\n  end_ms: 105890\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 105890\n  end_ms: 107780\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 107780\n  end_ms: 108510\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 108510\n  end_ms: 110340\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110340\n  end_ms: 110870\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 110870\n  end_ms: 111470\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 111470\n  end_ms: 113360\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 113360\n  end_ms: 116020\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 116020\n  end_ms: 116240\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 116240\n  end_ms: 117320\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 117320\n  end_ms: 119880\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 119880\n  end_ms: 122220\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 122220\n  end_ms: 124460\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 124460\n  end_ms: 127690\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 127690\n  end_ms: 130140\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 130140\n  end_ms: 132290\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 132290\n  end_ms: 132860\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132860\n  end_ms: 134160\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 134160\n  end_ms: 136810\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 136810\n  end_ms: 158080\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158080\n  end_ms: 160280\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160280\n  end_ms: 162100\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162100\n  end_ms: 165620\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165620\n  end_ms: 168310\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168310\n  end_ms: 171030\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171030\n  end_ms: 173590\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173590\n  end_ms: 175960\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 175960\n  end_ms: 178330\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178330\n  end_ms: 180530\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180530\n  end_ms: 181050\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181050\n  end_ms: 183200\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 183200\n  end_ms: 185910\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 185910\n  end_ms: 188640\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 188640\n  end_ms: 190500\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190500\n  end_ms: 192750\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 192750\n  end_ms: 195130\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195130\n  end_ms: 195780\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 195780\n  end_ms: 198110\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198110\n  end_ms: 199140\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 199140\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  T.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  Some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  Scorchin',\n  But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  Summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  To (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  And\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  His\n  Icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  Bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  Learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  Drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":18016497,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout! [by Hillside]","duration":223.2992,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nt.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nsome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nscorchin',\nbut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nain't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nsummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nto (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nand\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nhis\nicin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nbone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nlearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\ndrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.01] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.87] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.63] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.35] T.v.\n[00:30.81] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.76] Project-ballers\n[00:33.69] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.43] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.16] Some heard round town\n[00:38.95] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.20] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.42] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.56] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.11] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.08] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.54] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.01] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.38] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.05] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.62] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.81] OUT,\n[01:15.35] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.12] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.47] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.21] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.56] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.19] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.37] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.11] Scorchin',\n[01:30.14] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.21] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.39] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.20] Summer?\n[01:39.15] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.46] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.16] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.32] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.92] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.48] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.84] Goldschlager\n[01:50.30] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.13] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.87] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.25] His\n[01:54.09] Icin'\n[01:59.43] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.67] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.36] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.13] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.96] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.44] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.57] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.67] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.88] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.05] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.41] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.93] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.71] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.40] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.80] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.70] Learn?\n[03:01.53] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.83] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.09] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.55] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.35] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.40] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.69] Drink?\n[03:18.03] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.78] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.65] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout! [by Hillside]\n  duration_ms: 223299\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20010\n  end_ms: 20870\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20870\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22630\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22630\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28350\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28350\n  end_ms: 30810\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30810\n  end_ms: 31760\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31760\n  end_ms: 33690\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33690\n  end_ms: 35430\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35430\n  end_ms: 37160\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37160\n  end_ms: 38950\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38950\n  end_ms: 41200\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41200\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 45560\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45560\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56110\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56110\n  end_ms: 58080\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58080\n  end_ms: 61540\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61540\n  end_ms: 64010\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64010\n  end_ms: 66380\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66380\n  end_ms: 69050\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69050\n  end_ms: 71620\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71620\n  end_ms: 73810\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73810\n  end_ms: 75350\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75350\n  end_ms: 76120\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76120\n  end_ms: 77470\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77470\n  end_ms: 78210\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78210\n  end_ms: 81560\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81560\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85190\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85190\n  end_ms: 87370\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87370\n  end_ms: 89110\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89110\n  end_ms: 90140\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90140\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92210\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92210\n  end_ms: 94390\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94390\n  end_ms: 96200\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96200\n  end_ms: 99150\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99150\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101460\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101460\n  end_ms: 103160\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103160\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104320\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104320\n  end_ms: 105920\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105920\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109480\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109480\n  end_ms: 109840\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109840\n  end_ms: 110300\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110300\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111130\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111130\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112870\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112870\n  end_ms: 113250\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113250\n  end_ms: 114090\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114090\n  end_ms: 119430\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119430\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121670\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121670\n  end_ms: 122360\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122360\n  end_ms: 124130\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124130\n  end_ms: 127960\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127960\n  end_ms: 131440\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131440\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133570\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133570\n  end_ms: 135670\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135670\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160880\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160880\n  end_ms: 162050\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162050\n  end_ms: 165410\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165410\n  end_ms: 168930\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168930\n  end_ms: 171710\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171710\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178800\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178800\n  end_ms: 180700\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180700\n  end_ms: 181530\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181530\n  end_ms: 182830\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182830\n  end_ms: 186090\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186090\n  end_ms: 189550\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189550\n  end_ms: 190350\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190350\n  end_ms: 193400\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193400\n  end_ms: 195690\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195690\n  end_ms: 198030\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198030\n  end_ms: 198780\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198780\n  end_ms: 201650\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201650\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  t.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  scorchin',\n  but stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  to (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  and\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  his\n  icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":24307185,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout [Bonus Track]","duration":223.3288192,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nT.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nSome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nScorchin',\nBut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nAin't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nSummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nTo (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nAnd\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nHis\nIcin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nBone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nLearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\nDrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.06] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.82] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.66] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.39] T.v.\n[00:30.85] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.80] Project-ballers\n[00:33.63] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.48] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.13] Some heard round town\n[00:38.98] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.16] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.43] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.57] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.17] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.06] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.57] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.03] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.40] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.03] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.65] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.84] OUT,\n[01:15.38] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.14] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.42] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.24] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.50] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.17] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.32] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.14] Scorchin',\n[01:30.13] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.29] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.32] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.23] Summer?\n[01:39.17] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.43] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.13] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.39] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.90] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.46] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.87] Goldschlager\n[01:50.39] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.18] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.86] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.23] His\n[01:54.03] Icin'\n[01:59.44] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.66] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.40] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.18] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.94] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.46] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.58] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.68] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.87] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.00] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.45] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.94] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.75] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.38] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.75] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.68] Learn?\n[03:01.58] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.88] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.04] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.53] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.39] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.46] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.62] Drink?\n[03:18.08] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.72] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.66] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout [Bonus Track]\n  duration_ms: 223329\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20060\n  end_ms: 20820\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20820\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22660\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22660\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28390\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28390\n  end_ms: 30850\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30850\n  end_ms: 31800\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31800\n  end_ms: 33630\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33630\n  end_ms: 35480\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35480\n  end_ms: 37130\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37130\n  end_ms: 38980\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38980\n  end_ms: 41160\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41160\n  end_ms: 43430\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43430\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56170\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56170\n  end_ms: 58060\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58060\n  end_ms: 61570\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61570\n  end_ms: 64030\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64030\n  end_ms: 66400\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66400\n  end_ms: 69030\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69030\n  end_ms: 71650\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71650\n  end_ms: 73840\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73840\n  end_ms: 75380\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75380\n  end_ms: 76140\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76140\n  end_ms: 77420\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77420\n  end_ms: 78240\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78240\n  end_ms: 81500\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81500\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85170\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85170\n  end_ms: 87320\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87320\n  end_ms: 89140\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89140\n  end_ms: 90130\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90130\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92290\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92290\n  end_ms: 94320\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94320\n  end_ms: 96230\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96230\n  end_ms: 99170\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99170\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101430\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101430\n  end_ms: 103130\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103130\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104390\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104390\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109460\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109460\n  end_ms: 109870\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109870\n  end_ms: 110390\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110390\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111180\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111180\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112860\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112860\n  end_ms: 113230\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113230\n  end_ms: 114030\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114030\n  end_ms: 119440\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119440\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121660\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121660\n  end_ms: 122400\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122400\n  end_ms: 124180\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124180\n  end_ms: 127940\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127940\n  end_ms: 131460\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131460\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133580\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133580\n  end_ms: 135680\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135680\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160870\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160870\n  end_ms: 162000\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162000\n  end_ms: 165450\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165450\n  end_ms: 168940\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168940\n  end_ms: 171750\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171750\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176380\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176380\n  end_ms: 178750\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178750\n  end_ms: 180680\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180680\n  end_ms: 181580\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181580\n  end_ms: 182880\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182880\n  end_ms: 186040\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186040\n  end_ms: 189530\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189530\n  end_ms: 190390\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190390\n  end_ms: 193460\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193460\n  end_ms: 195620\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195620\n  end_ms: 198080\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198080\n  end_ms: 198720\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198720\n  end_ms: 201660\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201660\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  T.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  Some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  Scorchin',\n  But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  Summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  To (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  And\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  His\n  Icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  Bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  Learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  Drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":27427771,"name":"Blackout","trackName":"Blackout","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"Blackout (Japan Edition)","duration":223.346939,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nT.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nSome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nScorchin',\nBut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nAin't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nSummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nTo (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nAnd\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nHis\nIcin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nBone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nLearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\nDrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.06] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.82] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.66] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.39] T.v.\n[00:30.85] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.80] Project-ballers\n[00:33.63] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.48] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.13] Some heard round town\n[00:38.98] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.16] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.43] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.57] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.17] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.06] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.57] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.03] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.40] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.03] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.65] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.84] OUT,\n[01:15.38] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.14] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.42] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.24] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.50] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.17] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.32] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.14] Scorchin',\n[01:30.13] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.29] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.32] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.23] Summer?\n[01:39.17] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.43] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.13] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.39] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.90] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.46] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.87] Goldschlager\n[01:50.39] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.18] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.86] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.23] His\n[01:54.03] Icin'\n[01:59.44] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.66] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.40] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.18] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.94] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.46] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.58] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.68] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.87] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.00] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.45] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.94] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.75] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.38] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.75] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.68] Learn?\n[03:01.58] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.88] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.04] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.53] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.39] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.46] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.62] Drink?\n[03:18.08] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.72] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.66] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: Blackout (Japan Edition)\n  duration_ms: 223347\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20060\n  end_ms: 20820\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20820\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22660\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22660\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28390\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28390\n  end_ms: 30850\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30850\n  end_ms: 31800\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31800\n  end_ms: 33630\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33630\n  end_ms: 35480\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35480\n  end_ms: 37130\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37130\n  end_ms: 38980\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38980\n  end_ms: 41160\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41160\n  end_ms: 43430\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43430\n  end_ms: 45570\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45570\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56170\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56170\n  end_ms: 58060\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58060\n  end_ms: 61570\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61570\n  end_ms: 64030\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64030\n  end_ms: 66400\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66400\n  end_ms: 69030\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69030\n  end_ms: 71650\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71650\n  end_ms: 73840\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73840\n  end_ms: 75380\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75380\n  end_ms: 76140\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76140\n  end_ms: 77420\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77420\n  end_ms: 78240\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78240\n  end_ms: 81500\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81500\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85170\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85170\n  end_ms: 87320\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87320\n  end_ms: 89140\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89140\n  end_ms: 90130\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90130\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92290\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92290\n  end_ms: 94320\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94320\n  end_ms: 96230\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96230\n  end_ms: 99170\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99170\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101430\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101430\n  end_ms: 103130\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103130\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104390\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104390\n  end_ms: 105900\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105900\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109460\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109460\n  end_ms: 109870\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109870\n  end_ms: 110390\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110390\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111180\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111180\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112860\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112860\n  end_ms: 113230\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113230\n  end_ms: 114030\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114030\n  end_ms: 119440\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119440\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121660\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121660\n  end_ms: 122400\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122400\n  end_ms: 124180\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124180\n  end_ms: 127940\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127940\n  end_ms: 131460\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131460\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133580\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133580\n  end_ms: 135680\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135680\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160870\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160870\n  end_ms: 162000\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162000\n  end_ms: 165450\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165450\n  end_ms: 168940\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168940\n  end_ms: 171750\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171750\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176380\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176380\n  end_ms: 178750\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178750\n  end_ms: 180680\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180680\n  end_ms: 181580\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181580\n  end_ms: 182880\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182880\n  end_ms: 186040\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186040\n  end_ms: 189530\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189530\n  end_ms: 190390\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190390\n  end_ms: 193460\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193460\n  end_ms: 195620\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195620\n  end_ms: 198080\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198080\n  end_ms: 198720\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198720\n  end_ms: 201660\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201660\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  T.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  Some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  Scorchin',\n  But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  Summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  To (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  And\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  His\n  Icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  Bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  Learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  Drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\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":6773271,"name":"Blackout (Album Version Explicit)","trackName":"Blackout (Album Version Explicit)","artistName":"Method Man/Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":223.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nT.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nSome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nScorchin',\nBut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nAin't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nSummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nTo (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nAnd\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nHis\nIcin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nBone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nLearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\nDrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.01] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.87] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.63] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.35] T.v.\n[00:30.81] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.76] Project-ballers\n[00:33.69] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.43] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.16] Some heard round town\n[00:38.95] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.20] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.42] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.56] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.11] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.08] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.54] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.01] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.38] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.05] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.62] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.81] OUT,\n[01:15.35] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.12] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.47] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.21] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.56] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.19] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.37] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.11] Scorchin',\n[01:30.14] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.21] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.39] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.20] Summer?\n[01:39.15] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.46] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.16] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.32] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.92] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.48] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.84] Goldschlager\n[01:50.30] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.13] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.87] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.25] His\n[01:54.09] Icin'\n[01:59.43] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.67] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.36] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.13] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.96] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.44] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.57] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.67] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.88] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.05] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.41] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.93] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.71] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.40] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.80] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.70] Learn?\n[03:01.53] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.83] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.09] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.55] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.35] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.40] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.69] Drink?\n[03:18.03] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.78] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.65] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout (Album Version Explicit)\n  artist: Method Man/Redman\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 223000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20010\n  end_ms: 20870\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20870\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22630\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22630\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28350\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28350\n  end_ms: 30810\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30810\n  end_ms: 31760\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31760\n  end_ms: 33690\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33690\n  end_ms: 35430\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35430\n  end_ms: 37160\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37160\n  end_ms: 38950\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38950\n  end_ms: 41200\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41200\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 45560\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45560\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56110\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56110\n  end_ms: 58080\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58080\n  end_ms: 61540\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61540\n  end_ms: 64010\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64010\n  end_ms: 66380\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66380\n  end_ms: 69050\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69050\n  end_ms: 71620\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71620\n  end_ms: 73810\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73810\n  end_ms: 75350\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75350\n  end_ms: 76120\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76120\n  end_ms: 77470\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77470\n  end_ms: 78210\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78210\n  end_ms: 81560\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81560\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85190\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85190\n  end_ms: 87370\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87370\n  end_ms: 89110\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89110\n  end_ms: 90140\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90140\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92210\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92210\n  end_ms: 94390\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94390\n  end_ms: 96200\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96200\n  end_ms: 99150\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99150\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101460\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101460\n  end_ms: 103160\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103160\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104320\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104320\n  end_ms: 105920\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105920\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109480\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109480\n  end_ms: 109840\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109840\n  end_ms: 110300\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110300\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111130\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111130\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112870\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112870\n  end_ms: 113250\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113250\n  end_ms: 114090\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114090\n  end_ms: 119430\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119430\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121670\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121670\n  end_ms: 122360\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122360\n  end_ms: 124130\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124130\n  end_ms: 127960\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127960\n  end_ms: 131440\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131440\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133570\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133570\n  end_ms: 135670\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135670\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160880\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160880\n  end_ms: 162050\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162050\n  end_ms: 165410\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165410\n  end_ms: 168930\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168930\n  end_ms: 171710\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171710\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178800\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178800\n  end_ms: 180700\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180700\n  end_ms: 181530\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181530\n  end_ms: 182830\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182830\n  end_ms: 186090\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186090\n  end_ms: 189550\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189550\n  end_ms: 190350\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190350\n  end_ms: 193400\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193400\n  end_ms: 195690\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195690\n  end_ms: 198030\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198030\n  end_ms: 198780\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198780\n  end_ms: 201650\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201650\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  T.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  Some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  Scorchin',\n  But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  Summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  To (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  And\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  His\n  Icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  Bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  Learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  Drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"},{"id":15375372,"name":"Blackout (Album Version Explicit)","trackName":"Blackout (Album Version Explicit)","artistName":"Method Man\u0000Redman","albumName":"Blackout!","duration":223.346939,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"It's Funk Doc\nWhere da weed at, bitch?!\nI speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\nSee thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\nSlaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\nt.v.\nBackdraw water, my windpipes attached to\nProject-ballers\nYou yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\nMy voice, divi-di-round-sound,\nsome heard round town\nAnd chances are ya'll leavin', round now\nWait later, will make Funk page paper\nDate Raper with juveline 8th Graders\nHit the High School at 187 Caesar\nWhen I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\nDoc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\nThe shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\nI'm from the underground, my soundlib\nPlatform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\nGET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\nJUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nYo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\nOUT,\nEVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\nFEEL IT!\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nBrrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\nNow I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\nApproach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\nFORCIN'?\nMy hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\nscorchin',\nbut stone cold like Steve Austin\nIf you smell what Tical cookin',\nain't tryin' to see central bookin'\nSo til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\nsummer?\nSo I started hookin', you past shookin'\nOffer open can of ass-whoopin'?\nAin't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\nOf\nHorrors\nGo ask your father who the father from the\n(Park)Hill\nto (Mariners)Harbor\nYou know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\nGoldschlager\nWith deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\nand\nReggie\nDon't even bother, to radio for back-up\nAlright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\nhis\nicin'\nStreetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\nNigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\nPrecisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\nRuggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\nPeople's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\nReachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\nbone\nStraight from the Catacombs\nThe Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\nPrepare for desert storm!\nI scored 1.1 on my SAT\nAnd still push a whip with a right and left AC\nGorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\nI'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\nSpit poison, got a gun permit draw\nGundown at Sundown you keep score!\nThis training-course and ya'll ain't fit\nOn my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\nYo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\nlearn?\nWanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\nI spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\nWith the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\nThe most slept on since Rip Van Wink\nMy shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\nSo what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\ndrink?\nYou must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\nGo get a shrink...","syncedLyrics":"[00:20.01] It's Funk Doc\n[00:20.87] Where da weed at, bitch?!\n[00:21.81] I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n[00:22.63] See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n[00:24.95] Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n[00:28.35] T.v.\n[00:30.81] Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n[00:31.76] Project-ballers\n[00:33.69] You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n[00:35.43] My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n[00:37.16] Some heard round town\n[00:38.95] And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n[00:41.20] Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n[00:43.42] Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n[00:45.56] Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n[00:48.87] When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n[00:51.56] Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n[00:53.87] The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n[00:56.11] I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n[00:58.08] Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n[01:01.54] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n[01:04.01] JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n[01:06.38] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:09.05] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:11.62] Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n[01:13.81] OUT,\n[01:15.35] EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n[01:16.12] FEEL IT!\n[01:17.47] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:18.21] Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n[01:21.56] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n[01:23.18] Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n[01:25.19] FORCIN'?\n[01:27.37] My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n[01:29.11] Scorchin',\n[01:30.14] But stone cold like Steve Austin\n[01:30.91] If you smell what Tical cookin',\n[01:32.21] Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n[01:34.39] So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n[01:36.20] Summer?\n[01:39.15] So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n[01:40.06] Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n[01:41.46] Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n[01:43.16] Of\n[01:43.98] Horrors\n[01:44.32] Go ask your father who the father from the\n[01:45.92] (Park)Hill\n[01:47.14] To (Mariners)Harbor\n[01:49.48] You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n[01:49.84] Goldschlager\n[01:50.30] With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n[01:50.72] And\n[01:51.13] Reggie\n[01:52.09] Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n[01:52.87] Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n[01:53.25] His\n[01:54.09] Icin'\n[01:59.43] Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n[02:00.28] Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n[02:01.67] Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n[02:02.36] Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n[02:04.13] People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n[02:07.96] Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n[02:11.44] Bone\n[02:12.70] Straight from the Catacombs\n[02:13.57] The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n[02:15.67] Prepare for desert storm!\n[02:38.82] I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n[02:40.88] And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n[02:42.05] Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n[02:45.41] I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n[02:48.93] Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n[02:51.71] Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n[02:53.97] This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n[02:56.40] On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n[02:58.80] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n[03:00.70] Learn?\n[03:01.53] Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n[03:02.83] I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n[03:06.09] With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n[03:09.55] The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n[03:10.35] My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n[03:13.40] So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n[03:15.69] Drink?\n[03:18.03] You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n[03:18.78] Go get a shrink...\n[03:21.65] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Blackout (Album Version Explicit)\n  artist: \"Method Man\\0Redman\"\n  album: Blackout!\n  duration_ms: 223347\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: It's Funk Doc\n  start_ms: 20010\n  end_ms: 20870\n- text: Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  start_ms: 20870\n  end_ms: 21810\n- text: I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  start_ms: 21810\n  end_ms: 22630\n- text: See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  start_ms: 22630\n  end_ms: 24950\n- text: Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  start_ms: 24950\n  end_ms: 28350\n- text: T.v.\n  start_ms: 28350\n  end_ms: 30810\n- text: Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  start_ms: 30810\n  end_ms: 31760\n- text: Project-ballers\n  start_ms: 31760\n  end_ms: 33690\n- text: 'You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"'\n  start_ms: 33690\n  end_ms: 35430\n- text: My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  start_ms: 35430\n  end_ms: 37160\n- text: Some heard round town\n  start_ms: 37160\n  end_ms: 38950\n- text: And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  start_ms: 38950\n  end_ms: 41200\n- text: Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  start_ms: 41200\n  end_ms: 43420\n- text: Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  start_ms: 43420\n  end_ms: 45560\n- text: Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  start_ms: 45560\n  end_ms: 48870\n- text: When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  start_ms: 48870\n  end_ms: 51560\n- text: Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  start_ms: 51560\n  end_ms: 53870\n- text: The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  start_ms: 53870\n  end_ms: 56110\n- text: I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  start_ms: 56110\n  end_ms: 58080\n- text: Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  start_ms: 58080\n  end_ms: 61540\n- text: GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  start_ms: 61540\n  end_ms: 64010\n- text: JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 64010\n  end_ms: 66380\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 66380\n  end_ms: 69050\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 69050\n  end_ms: 71620\n- text: Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  start_ms: 71620\n  end_ms: 73810\n- text: OUT,\n  start_ms: 73810\n  end_ms: 75350\n- text: EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  start_ms: 75350\n  end_ms: 76120\n- text: FEEL IT!\n  start_ms: 76120\n  end_ms: 77470\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 77470\n  end_ms: 78210\n- text: Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  start_ms: 78210\n  end_ms: 81560\n- text: Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  start_ms: 81560\n  end_ms: 83180\n- text: Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  start_ms: 83180\n  end_ms: 85190\n- text: FORCIN'?\n  start_ms: 85190\n  end_ms: 87370\n- text: My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  start_ms: 87370\n  end_ms: 89110\n- text: Scorchin',\n  start_ms: 89110\n  end_ms: 90140\n- text: But stone cold like Steve Austin\n  start_ms: 90140\n  end_ms: 90910\n- text: If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  start_ms: 90910\n  end_ms: 92210\n- text: Ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  start_ms: 92210\n  end_ms: 94390\n- text: So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  start_ms: 94390\n  end_ms: 96200\n- text: Summer?\n  start_ms: 96200\n  end_ms: 99150\n- text: So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  start_ms: 99150\n  end_ms: 100060\n- text: Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  start_ms: 100060\n  end_ms: 101460\n- text: Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  start_ms: 101460\n  end_ms: 103160\n- text: Of\n  start_ms: 103160\n  end_ms: 103980\n- text: Horrors\n  start_ms: 103980\n  end_ms: 104320\n- text: Go ask your father who the father from the\n  start_ms: 104320\n  end_ms: 105920\n- text: (Park)Hill\n  start_ms: 105920\n  end_ms: 107140\n- text: To (Mariners)Harbor\n  start_ms: 107140\n  end_ms: 109480\n- text: You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  start_ms: 109480\n  end_ms: 109840\n- text: Goldschlager\n  start_ms: 109840\n  end_ms: 110300\n- text: With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  start_ms: 110300\n  end_ms: 110720\n- text: And\n  start_ms: 110720\n  end_ms: 111130\n- text: Reggie\n  start_ms: 111130\n  end_ms: 112090\n- text: Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  start_ms: 112090\n  end_ms: 112870\n- text: Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  start_ms: 112870\n  end_ms: 113250\n- text: His\n  start_ms: 113250\n  end_ms: 114090\n- text: Icin'\n  start_ms: 114090\n  end_ms: 119430\n- text: Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  start_ms: 119430\n  end_ms: 120280\n- text: Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  start_ms: 120280\n  end_ms: 121670\n- text: Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  start_ms: 121670\n  end_ms: 122360\n- text: Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  start_ms: 122360\n  end_ms: 124130\n- text: People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  start_ms: 124130\n  end_ms: 127960\n- text: Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  start_ms: 127960\n  end_ms: 131440\n- text: Bone\n  start_ms: 131440\n  end_ms: 132700\n- text: Straight from the Catacombs\n  start_ms: 132700\n  end_ms: 133570\n- text: The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  start_ms: 133570\n  end_ms: 135670\n- text: Prepare for desert storm!\n  start_ms: 135670\n  end_ms: 158820\n- text: I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  start_ms: 158820\n  end_ms: 160880\n- text: And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  start_ms: 160880\n  end_ms: 162050\n- text: Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  start_ms: 162050\n  end_ms: 165410\n- text: I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  start_ms: 165410\n  end_ms: 168930\n- text: Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  start_ms: 168930\n  end_ms: 171710\n- text: Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  start_ms: 171710\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 176400\n- text: On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  start_ms: 176400\n  end_ms: 178800\n- text: Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  start_ms: 178800\n  end_ms: 180700\n- text: Learn?\n  start_ms: 180700\n  end_ms: 181530\n- text: Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  start_ms: 181530\n  end_ms: 182830\n- text: I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  start_ms: 182830\n  end_ms: 186090\n- text: With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  start_ms: 186090\n  end_ms: 189550\n- text: The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  start_ms: 189550\n  end_ms: 190350\n- text: My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  start_ms: 190350\n  end_ms: 193400\n- text: So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  start_ms: 193400\n  end_ms: 195690\n- text: Drink?\n  start_ms: 195690\n  end_ms: 198030\n- text: You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  start_ms: 198030\n  end_ms: 198780\n- text: Go get a shrink...\n  start_ms: 198780\n  end_ms: 201650\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 201650\nplain: |-\n  It's Funk Doc\n  Where da weed at, bitch?!\n  I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops\n  See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit!\n  Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for\n  t.v.\n  Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to\n  Project-ballers\n  You yell: \"Turn the heat down!\"\n  My voice, divi-di-round-sound,\n  some heard round town\n  And chances are ya'll leavin', round now\n  Wait later, will make Funk page paper\n  Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders\n  Hit the High School at 187 Caesar\n  When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres\n  Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw\n  The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off?\n  I'm from the underground, my soundlib\n  Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds!\n  GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP\n  JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE\n  OUT,\n  EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL\n  FEEL IT!\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Brrrrr... STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM\n  Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin'\n  Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU\n  FORCIN'?\n  My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-\n  scorchin',\n  but stone cold like Steve Austin\n  If you smell what Tical cookin',\n  ain't tryin' to see central bookin'\n  So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last\n  summer?\n  So I started hookin', you past shookin'\n  Offer open can of ass-whoopin'?\n  Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop\n  Of\n  Horrors\n  Go ask your father who the father from the\n  (Park)Hill\n  to (Mariners)Harbor\n  You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and\n  Goldschlager\n  With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon\n  and\n  Reggie\n  Don't even bother, to radio for back-up\n  Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for\n  his\n  icin'\n  Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...!\n  Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear\n  Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew\n  Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera\n  People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors\n  Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a\n  bone\n  Straight from the Catacombs\n  The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue\n  Prepare for desert storm!\n  I scored 1.1 on my SAT\n  And still push a whip with a right and left AC\n  Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called\n  I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars\n  Spit poison, got a gun permit draw\n  Gundown at Sundown you keep score!\n  This training-course and ya'll ain't fit\n  On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit'\n  Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you\n  learn?\n  Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn\n  I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve\n  With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s\n  The most slept on since Rip Van Wink\n  My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc\n  So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one\n  drink?\n  You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe\n  Go get a shrink...\n"}]