[{"id":29258514,"name":"How High (remix)","trackName":"How High (remix)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"420 Hits: Method Man & Redman","duration":240.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Takin it from the top?\nTippy? Tippy?\n\nHow High?...\nThe Ultimate High...\n\n'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture\nStalk the dead body like a vulture\nTical get, hmmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your house'n projects\nI represent the Shaolin my nigga\nHell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\nIt be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\nCause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\nRaw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\nPlus, the Bombazee got me wild\n(Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n\nThree two Murder one lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreakin all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mine to get yours\nFucka, we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical, that stays open like an all nite store\nFor real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existance, M-E-T\nAint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\nI bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\nThe Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\nYour shit broke down, light your flare\nSince the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\nThe blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\nAnd yo my man (Tical) hit me now\nBitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\nForget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\nEmpty off a lickin off a hip hop\nFuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nIt's the funk doctor spock\nSmokin buddha on a train\nHow high? So high that I can kiss the sky\nHow sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\nLook up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\nRecognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\nHow high? So High that I can kiss the sky\nHow sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\nTil my man Raider Ruckus come home\nIt ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\nPuff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\nWe don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\nCheck it, I brings havoc with my hectic\nBring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\nMovin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\nPlus I got no love for the beast\nHailin from the big East Coast\nWhere niggaz pack toast\nHome of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\nYou try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\nAs I run around with a racist\nMy style was born in the 50 stair cases\nDig it, eff a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\nEnter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\nRabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\nRollin' blunts an all day habit\nI get it on like Smiff and Wess\nWho clicks the best\nPunks take a sip and test\nWho split your vest\nThe funk phenomenon\nI'm bombin you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama\nJust off stamina\nStyles not to be fucked with, or played with\nFuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\nHittin switches, Twistin wigs with\nFat radical mathematical type scriptures\nI dig up in your planets like Diga,\nBoo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\nFuck the marines, I got machines\nTo light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\nI fly more heads than Continental\nWreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\nLook I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\nBut I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\nI breaks em up proppa\nAsk Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\nFunk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\nLook, I got the tools like Rickle\nTo make your mind tickle\nFor the nine nickle\n(Yo Red, yo Red!)\nPunk ass pussy ass\n(You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.05] Takin it from the top?\n[00:03.98] Tippy? Tippy?\n[00:20.63] How High?...\n[00:21.69] The Ultimate High...\n[00:27.95] 'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\n[00:30.86] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n[00:33.21] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n[00:35.58] Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n[00:37.17] Tical get, hmmm\n[00:38.79] Blacker than your blackest stallion\n[00:40.51] Hit your house'n projects\n[00:42.10] I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n[00:43.92] Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n[00:46.39] It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n[00:48.76] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n[00:51.22] When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n[00:54.43] Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n[00:56.75] Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n[00:59.60] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n[01:02.01] With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n[01:04.84] Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n[01:07.70] (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n[01:12.64] Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n[01:15.22] Tical bring it to that ass raw\n[01:17.37] Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n[01:19.41] Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n[01:21.73] Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n[01:24.02] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n[01:26.43] More than you bargained for\n[01:28.51] Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n[01:30.64] For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n[01:33.48] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n[01:36.30] And end your existance, M-E-T\n[01:38.78] Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n[01:41.08] I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n[01:44.15] The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n[01:46.54] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n[01:48.59] Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n[01:51.94] Your shit broke down, light your flare\n[01:53.81] Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n[01:57.29] Six million ways to die, so I chose\n[01:59.85] Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n[02:02.72] The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n[02:05.02] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n[02:07.84] And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n[02:10.58] Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n[02:12.84] Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n[02:15.49] Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n[02:18.04] Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n[02:20.95] How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n[02:23.79] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:25.69] It's the funk doctor spock\n[02:26.96] Smokin buddha on a train\n[02:28.74] How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n[02:31.01] How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:34.23] Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n[02:36.26] Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n[02:39.15] How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n[02:41.75] How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:43.80] Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n[02:46.16] It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n[02:49.00] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n[02:51.99] We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n[02:54.56] Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n[02:56.88] Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n[02:59.47] Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n[03:03.72] Plus I got no love for the beast\n[03:05.42] Hailin from the big East Coast\n[03:07.27] Where niggaz pack toast\n[03:08.86] Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n[03:10.64] (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n[03:13.26] You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n[03:15.91] As I run around with a racist\n[03:17.96] My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n[03:20.88] Dig it, eff a rap critic\n[03:22.66] He talk about it while I live it\n[03:24.45] If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n[03:26.83] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n[03:29.64] Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n[03:32.00] Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n[03:34.68] Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n[03:36.74] I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n[03:38.39] Who clicks the best\n[03:39.63] Punks take a sip and test\n[03:40.98] Who split your vest\n[03:41.91] The funk phenomenon\n[03:43.56] I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n[03:44.65] Blow canals of Panama\n[03:46.16] Just off stamina\n[03:47.42] Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n[03:50.05] Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n[03:53.23] Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n[03:55.22] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n[03:58.14] I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n[04:00.20] Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n[04:03.50] Fuck the marines, I got machines\n[04:05.41] To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n[04:08.22] I fly more heads than Continental\n[04:10.33] Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n[04:13.59] Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n[04:16.19] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n[04:18.67] I breaks em up proppa\n[04:20.35] Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n[04:21.81] Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n[04:24.23] Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n[04:26.04] To make your mind tickle\n[04:27.06] For the nine nickle\n[04:28.69] (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n[04:29.79] Punk ass pussy ass\n[04:32.50] (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n[04:40.79] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High (remix)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: '420 Hits: Method Man & Redman'\n  duration_ms: 240000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Takin it from the top?\n  start_ms: 2050\n  end_ms: 3980\n- text: Tippy? Tippy?\n  start_ms: 3980\n  end_ms: 20630\n- text: How High?...\n  start_ms: 20630\n  end_ms: 21690\n- text: The Ultimate High...\n  start_ms: 21690\n  end_ms: 27950\n- text: '''Scuse me as I kiss the sky'\n  start_ms: 27950\n  end_ms: 30860\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  start_ms: 30860\n  end_ms: 33210\n- text: Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  start_ms: 33210\n  end_ms: 35580\n- text: Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  start_ms: 35580\n  end_ms: 37170\n- text: Tical get, hmmm\n  start_ms: 37170\n  end_ms: 38790\n- text: Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  start_ms: 38790\n  end_ms: 40510\n- text: Hit your house'n projects\n  start_ms: 40510\n  end_ms: 42100\n- text: I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n  start_ms: 42100\n  end_ms: 43920\n- text: Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  start_ms: 43920\n  end_ms: 46390\n- text: It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n  start_ms: 46390\n  end_ms: 48760\n- text: While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  start_ms: 48760\n  end_ms: 51220\n- text: When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n  start_ms: 51220\n  end_ms: 54430\n- text: Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n  start_ms: 54430\n  end_ms: 56750\n- text: Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  start_ms: 56750\n  end_ms: 59600\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  start_ms: 59600\n  end_ms: 62010\n- text: With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n  start_ms: 62010\n  end_ms: 64840\n- text: Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n  start_ms: 64840\n  end_ms: 67700\n- text: (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n  start_ms: 67700\n  end_ms: 72640\n- text: Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n  start_ms: 72640\n  end_ms: 75220\n- text: Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  start_ms: 75220\n  end_ms: 77370\n- text: Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n  start_ms: 77370\n  end_ms: 79410\n- text: Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  start_ms: 79410\n  end_ms: 81730\n- text: Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n  start_ms: 81730\n  end_ms: 84020\n- text: I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  start_ms: 84020\n  end_ms: 86430\n- text: More than you bargained for\n  start_ms: 86430\n  end_ms: 88510\n- text: Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n  start_ms: 88510\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93480\n- text: Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  start_ms: 93480\n  end_ms: 96300\n- text: And end your existance, M-E-T\n  start_ms: 96300\n  end_ms: 98780\n- text: Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n  start_ms: 98780\n  end_ms: 101080\n- text: I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  start_ms: 101080\n  end_ms: 104150\n- text: The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n  start_ms: 104150\n  end_ms: 106540\n- text: I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  start_ms: 106540\n  end_ms: 108590\n- text: Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n  start_ms: 108590\n  end_ms: 111940\n- text: Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  start_ms: 111940\n  end_ms: 113810\n- text: Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n  start_ms: 113810\n  end_ms: 117290\n- text: Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  start_ms: 117290\n  end_ms: 119850\n- text: Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n  start_ms: 119850\n  end_ms: 122720\n- text: The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n  start_ms: 122720\n  end_ms: 125020\n- text: And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  start_ms: 125020\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 130580\n- text: Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n  start_ms: 130580\n  end_ms: 132840\n- text: Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n  start_ms: 132840\n  end_ms: 135490\n- text: Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n  start_ms: 135490\n  end_ms: 138040\n- text: Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  start_ms: 138040\n  end_ms: 140950\n- text: How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n  start_ms: 140950\n  end_ms: 143790\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 143790\n  end_ms: 145690\n- text: It's the funk doctor spock\n  start_ms: 145690\n  end_ms: 146960\n- text: Smokin buddha on a train\n  start_ms: 146960\n  end_ms: 148740\n- text: How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 148740\n  end_ms: 151010\n- text: How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 151010\n  end_ms: 154230\n- text: Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  start_ms: 154230\n  end_ms: 156260\n- text: Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  start_ms: 156260\n  end_ms: 159150\n- text: How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 159150\n  end_ms: 161750\n- text: How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 161750\n  end_ms: 163800\n- text: Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  start_ms: 163800\n  end_ms: 166160\n- text: It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n  start_ms: 166160\n  end_ms: 169000\n- text: Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  start_ms: 169000\n  end_ms: 171990\n- text: We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n  start_ms: 171990\n  end_ms: 174560\n- text: Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n  start_ms: 174560\n  end_ms: 176880\n- text: Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n  start_ms: 176880\n  end_ms: 179470\n- text: Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n  start_ms: 179470\n  end_ms: 183720\n- text: Plus I got no love for the beast\n  start_ms: 183720\n  end_ms: 185420\n- text: Hailin from the big East Coast\n  start_ms: 185420\n  end_ms: 187270\n- text: Where niggaz pack toast\n  start_ms: 187270\n  end_ms: 188860\n- text: Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  start_ms: 188860\n  end_ms: 190640\n- text: (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n  start_ms: 190640\n  end_ms: 193260\n- text: You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n  start_ms: 193260\n  end_ms: 195910\n- text: As I run around with a racist\n  start_ms: 195910\n  end_ms: 197960\n- text: My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n  start_ms: 197960\n  end_ms: 200880\n- text: Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  start_ms: 200880\n  end_ms: 202660\n- text: He talk about it while I live it\n  start_ms: 202660\n  end_ms: 204450\n- text: If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n  start_ms: 204450\n  end_ms: 206830\n- text: Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n  start_ms: 206830\n  end_ms: 209640\n- text: Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n  start_ms: 209640\n  end_ms: 212000\n- text: Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  start_ms: 212000\n  end_ms: 214680\n- text: Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n  start_ms: 214680\n  end_ms: 216740\n- text: I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n  start_ms: 216740\n  end_ms: 218390\n- text: Who clicks the best\n  start_ms: 218390\n  end_ms: 219630\n- text: Punks take a sip and test\n  start_ms: 219630\n  end_ms: 220980\n- text: Who split your vest\n  start_ms: 220980\n  end_ms: 221910\n- text: The funk phenomenon\n  start_ms: 221910\n  end_ms: 223560\n- text: I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n  start_ms: 223560\n  end_ms: 224650\n- text: Blow canals of Panama\n  start_ms: 224650\n  end_ms: 226160\n- text: Just off stamina\n  start_ms: 226160\n  end_ms: 227420\n- text: Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n  start_ms: 227420\n  end_ms: 230050\n- text: Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n  start_ms: 230050\n  end_ms: 233230\n- text: Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n  start_ms: 233230\n  end_ms: 235220\n- text: Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  start_ms: 235220\n  end_ms: 238140\n- text: I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n  start_ms: 238140\n  end_ms: 240200\n- text: Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n  start_ms: 240200\n  end_ms: 243500\n- text: Fuck the marines, I got machines\n  start_ms: 243500\n  end_ms: 245410\n- text: To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n  start_ms: 245410\n  end_ms: 248220\n- text: I fly more heads than Continental\n  start_ms: 248220\n  end_ms: 250330\n- text: Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n  start_ms: 250330\n  end_ms: 253590\n- text: Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  start_ms: 253590\n  end_ms: 256190\n- text: But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  start_ms: 256190\n  end_ms: 258670\n- text: I breaks em up proppa\n  start_ms: 258670\n  end_ms: 260350\n- text: Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n  start_ms: 260350\n  end_ms: 261810\n- text: Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n  start_ms: 261810\n  end_ms: 264230\n- text: Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  start_ms: 264230\n  end_ms: 266040\n- text: To make your mind tickle\n  start_ms: 266040\n  end_ms: 267060\n- text: For the nine nickle\n  start_ms: 267060\n  end_ms: 268690\n- text: (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n  start_ms: 268690\n  end_ms: 269790\n- text: Punk ass pussy ass\n  start_ms: 269790\n  end_ms: 272500\n- text: (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n  start_ms: 272500\n  end_ms: 280790\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 280790\nplain: |-\n  Takin it from the top?\n  Tippy? Tippy?\n\n  How High?...\n  The Ultimate High...\n\n  'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  Tical get, hmmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your house'n projects\n  I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n  Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n  Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n  Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n  Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n  (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n\n  Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n  For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existance, M-E-T\n  Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\n  I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n  Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n  The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n  Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n  Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n  Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  It's the funk doctor spock\n  Smokin buddha on a train\n  How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n  How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\n  Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n  Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n  Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n  Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n  Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n  Plus I got no love for the beast\n  Hailin from the big East Coast\n  Where niggaz pack toast\n  Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n  You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n  As I run around with a racist\n  My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n  Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n  Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n  Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n  I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n  Who clicks the best\n  Punks take a sip and test\n  Who split your vest\n  The funk phenomenon\n  I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama\n  Just off stamina\n  Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n  Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n  Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n  Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n  Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n  Fuck the marines, I got machines\n  To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n  I fly more heads than Continental\n  Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n  Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  I breaks em up proppa\n  Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n  Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n  Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  To make your mind tickle\n  For the nine nickle\n  (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n  Punk ass pussy ass\n  (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n"},{"id":36070339,"name":"How High (remix) (PMEDIA)","trackName":"How High (remix) (PMEDIA)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"420 Hits: Method Man & Redman","duration":239.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Takin' it from the top?\n(Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\nTippy?\nAll my people (sing it, daddy)\nHey, uh\n\nExcuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture\nStalk the dead body like a vulture\nTicallion, hmmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your housing projects\nI represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\nHell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\nIt be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\nRaw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\nPlus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n(Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n\n10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\nThree, two, murder one lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreaking all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mine to get yours\nFucker, we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical, that stays open like an all-night store\nFor real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existence, M-E-T\nAin't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\nI's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\nThe Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\nYo' shit broke down, light your flair\nThis the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it six million and one with your eyes closed\n\nThe blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\nAyo my man (Tical) hear me now\nBitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\nForget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\nEmpty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\nFuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n(It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\nHow high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\nHow sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nRecognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n(How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n(How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n\n'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\nIt ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\nPuff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\nWe don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\nCheck it\nI brings havoc with my hectic\nBring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\nMoving on your left kid, and I'm Method\nOut my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\nHailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\nHome of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n\nHey boy, you the rude boy on the block\nYou try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n\nAs I run a mile with a racist\nMy style was born in the pissy staircases\nDig it, eff a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\nEnter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\nI brings havoc with an A-K matic\nRollin' blunts' an all-day habit\nI get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\nPunks take a sip and test, who split your vest\nThe funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama just off stamina\n\nStyles not to be fucked with or played with\nFuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\nHitting snitches, twisting wigs with\nFat radical mathematical type scriptures\nI dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\nScared you, blew you to smitha-reens\nFuck the Marines, I got machines\nThat like to spit and read Mad magazines\n\nI fly more heads than Continental\nWreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\nLook I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\nBut I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\nI breaks 'em off proper\nAsk Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\nFunk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\nLook, I got the tools like Rickle\nTo make your mind tickle\nFor the nine nickle\n\nYo Red, yo Red\nPunk ass, pussy ass\nWe ain't gotta show you no more, man\nWe out","syncedLyrics":"[00:04.56] Takin' it from the top?\n[00:06.14] (Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\n[00:07.12] Tippy?\n[00:07.45] All my people (sing it, daddy)\n[00:09.40] Hey, uh\n[00:32.40] Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n[00:34.71] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n[00:36.92] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n[00:39.33] Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n[00:41.39] Ticallion, hmmm\n[00:42.88] Blacker than your blackest stallion\n[00:44.47] Hit your housing projects\n[00:45.65] I represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\n[00:47.81] Hell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n[00:50.23] It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n[00:52.94] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n[00:55.36] When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n[00:58.10] 'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n[01:01.09] Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n[01:04.60] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n[01:06.59] With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\n[01:09.47] Plus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n[01:11.65] (Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n[01:34.89] 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n[01:37.30] Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n[01:40.13] Tical bring it to that ass raw\n[01:42.01] Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n[01:44.36] Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n[01:46.69] Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n[01:49.17] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n[01:51.39] More than you bargained for\n[01:52.84] Tical, that stays open like an all-night store\n[01:55.31] For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n[01:58.42] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n[02:01.40] And end your existence, M-E-T\n[02:03.81] Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n[02:06.83] I's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n[02:07.20] The Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n[02:08.03] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n[02:08.56] Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n[02:09.31] Yo' shit broke down, light your flair\n[02:11.92] This the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\n[02:13.43] Six million ways to die, so I chose\n[02:14.96] Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n[02:17.53] The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\n[02:20.17] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n[02:23.31] Ayo my man (Tical) hear me now\n[02:25.59] Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n[02:28.15] Forget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\n[02:30.38] Empty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\n[02:33.79] Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n[02:35.96] How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n[02:49.95] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:50.25] (It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\n[02:50.64] How high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\n[02:51.04] How sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\n[02:51.39] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:51.74] Recognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n[02:52.12] (How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n[02:52.48] (How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:52.82] 'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n[02:53.22] It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\n[02:53.65] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n[02:53.97] We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n[02:54.37] Check it\n[02:55.09] I brings havoc with my hectic\n[02:55.48] Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n[02:55.73] Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n[02:56.13] Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n[02:56.49] Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n[02:56.89] Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n[02:57.21] Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n[02:57.51] You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n[02:57.97] As I run a mile with a racist\n[02:58.63] My style was born in the pissy staircases\n[02:59.06] Dig it, eff a rap critic\n[02:59.52] He talk about it while I live it\n[02:59.85] If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n[03:00.25] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n[03:00.69] Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n[03:06.07] I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n[03:07.86] Rollin' blunts' an all-day habit\n[03:10.28] I get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\n[03:12.37] Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n[03:15.33] The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n[03:17.81] Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n[03:45.25] Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n[03:45.65] Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n[03:46.08] Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n[03:46.45] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n[03:46.80] I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n[03:47.03] Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n[03:47.49] Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n[03:47.83] That like to spit and read Mad magazines\n[03:48.48] I fly more heads than Continental\n[03:48.85] Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n[03:49.23] Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n[03:49.67] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n[03:49.98] I breaks 'em off proper\n[03:50.35] Ask Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\n[03:50.67] Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n[03:51.07] Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n[03:51.45] To make your mind tickle\n[03:51.86] For the nine nickle\n[03:52.12] Yo Red, yo Red\n[03:52.60] Punk ass, pussy ass\n[03:52.84] We ain't gotta show you no more, man\n[03:53.25] We out\n[03:53.65] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High (remix) (PMEDIA)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: '420 Hits: Method Man & Redman'\n  duration_ms: 239000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Takin' it from the top?\n  start_ms: 4560\n  end_ms: 6140\n- text: (Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\n  start_ms: 6140\n  end_ms: 7120\n- text: Tippy?\n  start_ms: 7120\n  end_ms: 7450\n- text: All my people (sing it, daddy)\n  start_ms: 7450\n  end_ms: 9400\n- text: Hey, uh\n  start_ms: 9400\n  end_ms: 32400\n- text: Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 32400\n  end_ms: 34710\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  start_ms: 34710\n  end_ms: 36920\n- text: Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  start_ms: 36920\n  end_ms: 39330\n- text: Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  start_ms: 39330\n  end_ms: 41390\n- text: Ticallion, hmmm\n  start_ms: 41390\n  end_ms: 42880\n- text: Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  start_ms: 42880\n  end_ms: 44470\n- text: Hit your housing projects\n  start_ms: 44470\n  end_ms: 45650\n- text: I represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\n  start_ms: 45650\n  end_ms: 47810\n- text: Hell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n  start_ms: 47810\n  end_ms: 50230\n- text: It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n  start_ms: 50230\n  end_ms: 52940\n- text: While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  start_ms: 52940\n  end_ms: 55360\n- text: When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  start_ms: 55360\n  end_ms: 58100\n- text: '''Cause ain''t no need for that, hustlers and hardcore'\n  start_ms: 58100\n  end_ms: 61090\n- text: Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  start_ms: 61090\n  end_ms: 64600\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  start_ms: 64600\n  end_ms: 66590\n- text: With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\n  start_ms: 66590\n  end_ms: 69470\n- text: Plus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n  start_ms: 69470\n  end_ms: 71650\n- text: (Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n  start_ms: 71650\n  end_ms: 94890\n- text: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n  start_ms: 94890\n  end_ms: 97300\n- text: Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n  start_ms: 97300\n  end_ms: 100130\n- text: Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  start_ms: 100130\n  end_ms: 102010\n- text: Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n  start_ms: 102010\n  end_ms: 104360\n- text: Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  start_ms: 104360\n  end_ms: 106690\n- text: Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n  start_ms: 106690\n  end_ms: 109170\n- text: I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  start_ms: 109170\n  end_ms: 111390\n- text: More than you bargained for\n  start_ms: 111390\n  end_ms: 112840\n- text: Tical, that stays open like an all-night store\n  start_ms: 112840\n  end_ms: 115310\n- text: For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  start_ms: 115310\n  end_ms: 118420\n- text: Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  start_ms: 118420\n  end_ms: 121400\n- text: And end your existence, M-E-T\n  start_ms: 121400\n  end_ms: 123810\n- text: Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n  start_ms: 123810\n  end_ms: 126830\n- text: I's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  start_ms: 126830\n  end_ms: 127200\n- text: The Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n  start_ms: 127200\n  end_ms: 128030\n- text: I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  start_ms: 128030\n  end_ms: 128560\n- text: Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n  start_ms: 128560\n  end_ms: 129310\n- text: Yo' shit broke down, light your flair\n  start_ms: 129310\n  end_ms: 131920\n- text: This the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\n  start_ms: 131920\n  end_ms: 133430\n- text: Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  start_ms: 133430\n  end_ms: 134960\n- text: Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n  start_ms: 134960\n  end_ms: 137530\n- text: The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\n  start_ms: 137530\n  end_ms: 140170\n- text: And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  start_ms: 140170\n  end_ms: 143310\n- text: Ayo my man (Tical) hear me now\n  start_ms: 143310\n  end_ms: 145590\n- text: Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n  start_ms: 145590\n  end_ms: 148150\n- text: Forget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  start_ms: 148150\n  end_ms: 150380\n- text: Empty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\n  start_ms: 150380\n  end_ms: 153790\n- text: Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  start_ms: 153790\n  end_ms: 155960\n- text: How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n  start_ms: 155960\n  end_ms: 169950\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 169950\n  end_ms: 170250\n- text: (It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\n  start_ms: 170250\n  end_ms: 170640\n- text: How high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\n  start_ms: 170640\n  end_ms: 171040\n- text: How sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\n  start_ms: 171040\n  end_ms: 171390\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 171390\n  end_ms: 171740\n- text: Recognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  start_ms: 171740\n  end_ms: 172120\n- text: (How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 172120\n  end_ms: 172480\n- text: (How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 172480\n  end_ms: 172820\n- text: '''Til my man Raider Ruckus come home'\n  start_ms: 172820\n  end_ms: 173220\n- text: It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\n  start_ms: 173220\n  end_ms: 173650\n- text: Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  start_ms: 173650\n  end_ms: 173970\n- text: We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n  start_ms: 173970\n  end_ms: 174370\n- text: Check it\n  start_ms: 174370\n  end_ms: 175090\n- text: I brings havoc with my hectic\n  start_ms: 175090\n  end_ms: 175480\n- text: Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  start_ms: 175480\n  end_ms: 175730\n- text: Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  start_ms: 175730\n  end_ms: 176130\n- text: Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  start_ms: 176130\n  end_ms: 176490\n- text: Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  start_ms: 176490\n  end_ms: 176890\n- text: Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n  start_ms: 176890\n  end_ms: 177210\n- text: Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n  start_ms: 177210\n  end_ms: 177510\n- text: You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n  start_ms: 177510\n  end_ms: 177970\n- text: As I run a mile with a racist\n  start_ms: 177970\n  end_ms: 178630\n- text: My style was born in the pissy staircases\n  start_ms: 178630\n  end_ms: 179060\n- text: Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  start_ms: 179060\n  end_ms: 179520\n- text: He talk about it while I live it\n  start_ms: 179520\n  end_ms: 179850\n- text: If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n  start_ms: 179850\n  end_ms: 180250\n- text: Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  start_ms: 180250\n  end_ms: 180690\n- text: Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n  start_ms: 180690\n  end_ms: 186070\n- text: I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  start_ms: 186070\n  end_ms: 187860\n- text: Rollin' blunts' an all-day habit\n  start_ms: 187860\n  end_ms: 190280\n- text: I get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\n  start_ms: 190280\n  end_ms: 192370\n- text: Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n  start_ms: 192370\n  end_ms: 195330\n- text: The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  start_ms: 195330\n  end_ms: 197810\n- text: Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n  start_ms: 197810\n  end_ms: 225250\n- text: Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  start_ms: 225250\n  end_ms: 225650\n- text: Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n  start_ms: 225650\n  end_ms: 226080\n- text: Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n  start_ms: 226080\n  end_ms: 226450\n- text: Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  start_ms: 226450\n  end_ms: 226800\n- text: I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n  start_ms: 226800\n  end_ms: 227030\n- text: Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n  start_ms: 227030\n  end_ms: 227490\n- text: Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  start_ms: 227490\n  end_ms: 227830\n- text: That like to spit and read Mad magazines\n  start_ms: 227830\n  end_ms: 228480\n- text: I fly more heads than Continental\n  start_ms: 228480\n  end_ms: 228850\n- text: Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  start_ms: 228850\n  end_ms: 229230\n- text: Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n  start_ms: 229230\n  end_ms: 229670\n- text: But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  start_ms: 229670\n  end_ms: 229980\n- text: I breaks 'em off proper\n  start_ms: 229980\n  end_ms: 230350\n- text: Ask Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\n  start_ms: 230350\n  end_ms: 230670\n- text: Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n  start_ms: 230670\n  end_ms: 231070\n- text: Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  start_ms: 231070\n  end_ms: 231450\n- text: To make your mind tickle\n  start_ms: 231450\n  end_ms: 231860\n- text: For the nine nickle\n  start_ms: 231860\n  end_ms: 232120\n- text: Yo Red, yo Red\n  start_ms: 232120\n  end_ms: 232600\n- text: Punk ass, pussy ass\n  start_ms: 232600\n  end_ms: 232840\n- text: We ain't gotta show you no more, man\n  start_ms: 232840\n  end_ms: 233250\n- text: We out\n  start_ms: 233250\n  end_ms: 233650\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 233650\nplain: |-\n  Takin' it from the top?\n  (Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\n  Tippy?\n  All my people (sing it, daddy)\n  Hey, uh\n\n  Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  Ticallion, hmmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your housing projects\n  I represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\n  Hell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n  It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n  Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\n  Plus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n  (Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n\n  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n  Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical, that stays open like an all-night store\n  For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existence, M-E-T\n  Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\n  I's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  The Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n  Yo' shit broke down, light your flair\n  This the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n\n  The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  Ayo my man (Tical) hear me now\n  Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n  Forget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  Empty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\n  Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  (It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\n  How high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\n  How sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  Recognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  (How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n  (How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n\n  'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\n  Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n  Check it\n  I brings havoc with my hectic\n  Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n\n  Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n  You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n\n  As I run a mile with a racist\n  My style was born in the pissy staircases\n  Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n  I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  Rollin' blunts' an all-day habit\n  I get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\n  Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n  The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n\n  Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n  Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n  Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n  Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n  Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  That like to spit and read Mad magazines\n\n  I fly more heads than Continental\n  Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n  But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  I breaks 'em off proper\n  Ask Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\n  Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n  Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  To make your mind tickle\n  For the nine nickle\n\n  Yo Red, yo Red\n  Punk ass, pussy ass\n  We ain't gotta show you no more, man\n  We out\n"},{"id":23748224,"name":"How High (Remix)","trackName":"How High (Remix)","artistName":"Method Man","albumName":"420 Hits: Method Man & Redman","duration":239.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Latest record? We stole it from somebody else\nTakin' it from the top? (Top)\n(Hell yeah, we takin' it from the top)\nTippy? (Tippy)\nCome on, my people\nSing it, daddy\nHey\nFly robin, fly (we rock)\nHa (yeah, ah), ha ha\nHa ha (aha)\nFly robin, fly\n(Taking my mind where it's never gone before)\nFly robin, fly (and so like a mushroom in cow shit)\n(And I'm taking it just to get the ultimate high, baby)\n(Redman)\nUp, up to the sky (the ultimate high, ohh)\n(Method Man)\nExcuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture?\nStalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your housing projects\nI represent yo' Shaolin, my nigga\nNow yes, Apocalypse now, the gun pow\nIt be going down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck (yeah)\n'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\nRaw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more fruitier loops than that Toucan Sam bitch\nPlus the Bombazee got me wide\nMessing with them\nIs a straight suicide\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nIt's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' lah on the train\nHow high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n(Up, up to the sky) yeaheah, check it out y'all, uh\n(Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane)\nRecognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\nHow high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n(Up, up to the sky) yeah, yeah, Tical\nTen, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four\nThree, two, murder one lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreaking all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mines to get yours\nFucka, we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical, I stays open like an all night store (yeah, yeah, ah)\nFor real I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existence, M-E-T (yeah)\nAin't no use for resistance, H-O-D\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it six million and one with your eyes closed\nThe blindfold cold, so you can feel the wrath\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your funky ass\nAnd, yo, my man (Tical) hit me now\nBitches used to play me now they can't forget me now\nThey get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock\nEmpty off a licking off a hip-hop\nFuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nIt's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' la) on the train\nHow high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n(Up, up to the sky) yeah, yeah, ha, word up\nAs I run a mile with a racist\nMy style was born in the pissy staircases\nDig it, F a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\nEnter the center, lyrics bang like Ricochet Rabbit\nI brings havoc with an AK 'matic, rolling blunts an all day habit\nI get it on like Smith & Wes', who clique's the best?\nPunks take a sip and test, who splits your vest?\nThe funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama just off stamina\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nIt's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' lah on the train\nHow high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n(Up, up to the sky) yeah, huh, huh, yeah, yeah\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nRecognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\nHow high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n(Up, up to the sky) yeah yeah, word up\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nIt's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' lah on the train\nHow high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n(Up, up to the sky)\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nRecognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\nHow high?","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High (Remix)\n  artist: Method Man\n  album: '420 Hits: Method Man & Redman'\n  duration_ms: 239000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Latest record? We stole it from somebody else\n  Takin' it from the top? (Top)\n  (Hell yeah, we takin' it from the top)\n  Tippy? (Tippy)\n  Come on, my people\n  Sing it, daddy\n  Hey\n  Fly robin, fly (we rock)\n  Ha (yeah, ah), ha ha\n  Ha ha (aha)\n  Fly robin, fly\n  (Taking my mind where it's never gone before)\n  Fly robin, fly (and so like a mushroom in cow shit)\n  (And I'm taking it just to get the ultimate high, baby)\n  (Redman)\n  Up, up to the sky (the ultimate high, ohh)\n  (Method Man)\n  Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture?\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your housing projects\n  I represent yo' Shaolin, my nigga\n  Now yes, Apocalypse now, the gun pow\n  It be going down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck (yeah)\n  'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n  Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more fruitier loops than that Toucan Sam bitch\n  Plus the Bombazee got me wide\n  Messing with them\n  Is a straight suicide\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' lah on the train\n  How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  (Up, up to the sky) yeaheah, check it out y'all, uh\n  (Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane)\n  Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  (Up, up to the sky) yeah, yeah, Tical\n  Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four\n  Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mines to get yours\n  Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical, I stays open like an all night store (yeah, yeah, ah)\n  For real I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existence, M-E-T (yeah)\n  Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n  The blindfold cold, so you can feel the wrath\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your funky ass\n  And, yo, my man (Tical) hit me now\n  Bitches used to play me now they can't forget me now\n  They get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  Empty off a licking off a hip-hop\n  Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' la) on the train\n  How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  (Up, up to the sky) yeah, yeah, ha, word up\n  As I run a mile with a racist\n  My style was born in the pissy staircases\n  Dig it, F a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  Enter the center, lyrics bang like Ricochet Rabbit\n  I brings havoc with an AK 'matic, rolling blunts an all day habit\n  I get it on like Smith & Wes', who clique's the best?\n  Punks take a sip and test, who splits your vest?\n  The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' lah on the train\n  How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  (Up, up to the sky) yeah, huh, huh, yeah, yeah\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  (Up, up to the sky) yeah yeah, word up\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' lah on the train\n  How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  (Up, up to the sky)\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  How high?\n"},{"id":3682056,"name":"How High","trackName":"How High","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"How High","duration":240.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Takin' it from the top?\n(Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\nTippy?\nAll my people (sing it, daddy)\nHey, uh\n\nExcuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture\nStalk the dead body like a vulture\nTicallion, hmmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your housing projects\nI represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\nHell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\nIt be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\nRaw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\nPlus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n(Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n\n10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\nThree, two, murder one lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreaking all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mine to get yours\nFucker, we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical, that stays open like an all-night store\nFor real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existence, M-E-T\nAin't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\nI's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\nThe Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\nYo' shit broke down, light your flair\nThis the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it six million and one with your eyes closed\n\nThe blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\nAyo my man (Tical) hear me now\nBitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\nForget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\nEmpty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\nFuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n(It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\nHow high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\nHow sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nRecognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n(How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n(How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n\n'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\nIt ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\nPuff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\nWe don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\nCheck it\nI brings havoc with my hectic\nBring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\nMoving on your left kid, and I'm Method\nOut my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\nHailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\nHome of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n\nHey boy, you the rude boy on the block\nYou try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n\nAs I run a mile with a racist\nMy style was born in the pissy staircases\nDig it, eff a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\nEnter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\nI brings havoc with an A-K matic\nRollin' blunts' an all-day habit\nI get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\nPunks take a sip and test, who split your vest\nThe funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama just off stamina\n\nStyles not to be fucked with or played with\nFuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\nHitting snitches, twisting wigs with\nFat radical mathematical type scriptures\nI dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\nScared you, blew you to smitha-reens\nFuck the Marines, I got machines\nThat like to spit and read Mad magazines\n\nI fly more heads than Continental\nWreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\nLook I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\nBut I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\nI breaks 'em off proper\nAsk Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\nFunk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\nLook, I got the tools like Rickle\nTo make your mind tickle\nFor the nine nickle\n\nYo Red, yo Red\nPunk ass, pussy ass\nWe ain't gotta show you no more, man\nWe out","syncedLyrics":"[00:04.58] Takin' it from the top?\n[00:06.19] (Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\n[00:07.13] Tippy?\n[00:07.44] All my people (sing it, daddy)\n[00:09.48] Hey, uh\n[00:32.46] Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n[00:34.72] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n[00:36.98] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n[00:39.32] Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n[00:41.36] Ticallion, hmmm\n[00:42.80] Blacker than your blackest stallion\n[00:44.47] Hit your housing projects\n[00:45.63] I represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\n[00:47.87] Hell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n[00:50.26] It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n[00:52.91] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n[00:55.39] When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n[00:58.04] 'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n[01:01.03] Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n[01:04.67] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n[01:06.52] With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\n[01:09.44] Plus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n[01:11.65] (Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n[01:34.83] 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n[01:37.30] Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n[01:40.19] Tical bring it to that ass raw\n[01:42.10] Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n[01:44.36] Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n[01:46.66] Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n[01:49.13] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n[01:51.34] More than you bargained for\n[01:52.84] Tical, that stays open like an all-night store\n[01:55.33] For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n[01:58.48] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n[02:01.39] And end your existence, M-E-T\n[02:03.80] Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n[02:06.85] I's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n[02:07.20] The Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n[02:08.07] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n[02:08.56] Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n[02:09.38] Yo' shit broke down, light your flair\n[02:11.97] This the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\n[02:13.44] Six million ways to die, so I chose\n[02:14.91] Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n[02:17.54] The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\n[02:20.11] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n[02:23.33] Ayo my man (Tical) hear me now\n[02:25.53] Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n[02:28.14] Forget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\n[02:30.34] Empty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\n[02:33.72] Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n[02:35.97] How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n[02:49.99] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:50.27] (It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\n[02:50.69] How high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\n[02:51.07] How sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\n[02:51.36] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:51.78] Recognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n[02:52.15] (How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n[02:52.43] (How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:52.82] 'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n[02:53.28] It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\n[02:53.68] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n[02:53.95] We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n[02:54.36] Check it\n[02:55.05] I brings havoc with my hectic\n[02:55.44] Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n[02:55.71] Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n[02:56.17] Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n[02:56.41] Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n[02:56.88] Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n[02:57.24] Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n[02:57.59] You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n[02:57.92] As I run a mile with a racist\n[02:58.64] My style was born in the pissy staircases\n[02:59.02] Dig it, eff a rap critic\n[02:59.51] He talk about it while I live it\n[02:59.86] If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n[03:00.26] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n[03:00.66] Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n[03:06.01] I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n[03:07.87] Rollin' blunts' an all-day habit\n[03:10.23] I get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\n[03:12.40] Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n[03:15.34] The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n[03:17.82] Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n[03:45.27] Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n[03:45.70] Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n[03:46.00] Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n[03:46.41] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n[03:46.73] I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n[03:47.03] Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n[03:47.41] Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n[03:47.89] That like to spit and read Mad magazines\n[03:48.46] I fly more heads than Continental\n[03:48.86] Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n[03:49.24] Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n[03:49.61] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n[03:49.98] I breaks 'em off proper\n[03:50.31] Ask Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\n[03:50.63] Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n[03:51.05] Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n[03:51.44] To make your mind tickle\n[03:51.81] For the nine nickle\n[03:52.15] Yo Red, yo Red\n[03:52.59] Punk ass, pussy ass\n[03:52.84] We ain't gotta show you no more, man\n[03:53.26] We out\n[03:53.66] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 240000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Takin' it from the top?\n  start_ms: 4580\n  end_ms: 6190\n- text: (Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\n  start_ms: 6190\n  end_ms: 7130\n- text: Tippy?\n  start_ms: 7130\n  end_ms: 7440\n- text: All my people (sing it, daddy)\n  start_ms: 7440\n  end_ms: 9480\n- text: Hey, uh\n  start_ms: 9480\n  end_ms: 32460\n- text: Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 32460\n  end_ms: 34720\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  start_ms: 34720\n  end_ms: 36980\n- text: Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  start_ms: 36980\n  end_ms: 39320\n- text: Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  start_ms: 39320\n  end_ms: 41360\n- text: Ticallion, hmmm\n  start_ms: 41360\n  end_ms: 42800\n- text: Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  start_ms: 42800\n  end_ms: 44470\n- text: Hit your housing projects\n  start_ms: 44470\n  end_ms: 45630\n- text: I represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\n  start_ms: 45630\n  end_ms: 47870\n- text: Hell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n  start_ms: 47870\n  end_ms: 50260\n- text: It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n  start_ms: 50260\n  end_ms: 52910\n- text: While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  start_ms: 52910\n  end_ms: 55390\n- text: When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  start_ms: 55390\n  end_ms: 58040\n- text: '''Cause ain''t no need for that, hustlers and hardcore'\n  start_ms: 58040\n  end_ms: 61030\n- text: Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  start_ms: 61030\n  end_ms: 64670\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  start_ms: 64670\n  end_ms: 66520\n- text: With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\n  start_ms: 66520\n  end_ms: 69440\n- text: Plus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n  start_ms: 69440\n  end_ms: 71650\n- text: (Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n  start_ms: 71650\n  end_ms: 94830\n- text: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n  start_ms: 94830\n  end_ms: 97300\n- text: Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n  start_ms: 97300\n  end_ms: 100190\n- text: Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  start_ms: 100190\n  end_ms: 102100\n- text: Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n  start_ms: 102100\n  end_ms: 104360\n- text: Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  start_ms: 104360\n  end_ms: 106660\n- text: Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n  start_ms: 106660\n  end_ms: 109130\n- text: I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  start_ms: 109130\n  end_ms: 111340\n- text: More than you bargained for\n  start_ms: 111340\n  end_ms: 112840\n- text: Tical, that stays open like an all-night store\n  start_ms: 112840\n  end_ms: 115330\n- text: For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  start_ms: 115330\n  end_ms: 118480\n- text: Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  start_ms: 118480\n  end_ms: 121390\n- text: And end your existence, M-E-T\n  start_ms: 121390\n  end_ms: 123800\n- text: Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n  start_ms: 123800\n  end_ms: 126850\n- text: I's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  start_ms: 126850\n  end_ms: 127200\n- text: The Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n  start_ms: 127200\n  end_ms: 128070\n- text: I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  start_ms: 128070\n  end_ms: 128560\n- text: Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n  start_ms: 128560\n  end_ms: 129380\n- text: Yo' shit broke down, light your flair\n  start_ms: 129380\n  end_ms: 131970\n- text: This the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\n  start_ms: 131970\n  end_ms: 133440\n- text: Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  start_ms: 133440\n  end_ms: 134910\n- text: Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n  start_ms: 134910\n  end_ms: 137540\n- text: The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\n  start_ms: 137540\n  end_ms: 140110\n- text: And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  start_ms: 140110\n  end_ms: 143330\n- text: Ayo my man (Tical) hear me now\n  start_ms: 143330\n  end_ms: 145530\n- text: Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n  start_ms: 145530\n  end_ms: 148140\n- text: Forget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  start_ms: 148140\n  end_ms: 150340\n- text: Empty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\n  start_ms: 150340\n  end_ms: 153720\n- text: Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  start_ms: 153720\n  end_ms: 155970\n- text: How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n  start_ms: 155970\n  end_ms: 169990\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 169990\n  end_ms: 170270\n- text: (It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\n  start_ms: 170270\n  end_ms: 170690\n- text: How high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\n  start_ms: 170690\n  end_ms: 171070\n- text: How sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\n  start_ms: 171070\n  end_ms: 171360\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 171360\n  end_ms: 171780\n- text: Recognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  start_ms: 171780\n  end_ms: 172150\n- text: (How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 172150\n  end_ms: 172430\n- text: (How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 172430\n  end_ms: 172820\n- text: '''Til my man Raider Ruckus come home'\n  start_ms: 172820\n  end_ms: 173280\n- text: It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\n  start_ms: 173280\n  end_ms: 173680\n- text: Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  start_ms: 173680\n  end_ms: 173950\n- text: We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n  start_ms: 173950\n  end_ms: 174360\n- text: Check it\n  start_ms: 174360\n  end_ms: 175050\n- text: I brings havoc with my hectic\n  start_ms: 175050\n  end_ms: 175440\n- text: Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  start_ms: 175440\n  end_ms: 175710\n- text: Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  start_ms: 175710\n  end_ms: 176170\n- text: Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  start_ms: 176170\n  end_ms: 176410\n- text: Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  start_ms: 176410\n  end_ms: 176880\n- text: Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n  start_ms: 176880\n  end_ms: 177240\n- text: Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n  start_ms: 177240\n  end_ms: 177590\n- text: You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n  start_ms: 177590\n  end_ms: 177920\n- text: As I run a mile with a racist\n  start_ms: 177920\n  end_ms: 178640\n- text: My style was born in the pissy staircases\n  start_ms: 178640\n  end_ms: 179020\n- text: Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  start_ms: 179020\n  end_ms: 179510\n- text: He talk about it while I live it\n  start_ms: 179510\n  end_ms: 179860\n- text: If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n  start_ms: 179860\n  end_ms: 180260\n- text: Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  start_ms: 180260\n  end_ms: 180660\n- text: Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n  start_ms: 180660\n  end_ms: 186010\n- text: I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  start_ms: 186010\n  end_ms: 187870\n- text: Rollin' blunts' an all-day habit\n  start_ms: 187870\n  end_ms: 190230\n- text: I get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\n  start_ms: 190230\n  end_ms: 192400\n- text: Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n  start_ms: 192400\n  end_ms: 195340\n- text: The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  start_ms: 195340\n  end_ms: 197820\n- text: Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n  start_ms: 197820\n  end_ms: 225270\n- text: Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  start_ms: 225270\n  end_ms: 225700\n- text: Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n  start_ms: 225700\n  end_ms: 226000\n- text: Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n  start_ms: 226000\n  end_ms: 226410\n- text: Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  start_ms: 226410\n  end_ms: 226730\n- text: I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n  start_ms: 226730\n  end_ms: 227030\n- text: Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n  start_ms: 227030\n  end_ms: 227410\n- text: Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  start_ms: 227410\n  end_ms: 227890\n- text: That like to spit and read Mad magazines\n  start_ms: 227890\n  end_ms: 228460\n- text: I fly more heads than Continental\n  start_ms: 228460\n  end_ms: 228860\n- text: Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  start_ms: 228860\n  end_ms: 229240\n- text: Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n  start_ms: 229240\n  end_ms: 229610\n- text: But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  start_ms: 229610\n  end_ms: 229980\n- text: I breaks 'em off proper\n  start_ms: 229980\n  end_ms: 230310\n- text: Ask Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\n  start_ms: 230310\n  end_ms: 230630\n- text: Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n  start_ms: 230630\n  end_ms: 231050\n- text: Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  start_ms: 231050\n  end_ms: 231440\n- text: To make your mind tickle\n  start_ms: 231440\n  end_ms: 231810\n- text: For the nine nickle\n  start_ms: 231810\n  end_ms: 232150\n- text: Yo Red, yo Red\n  start_ms: 232150\n  end_ms: 232590\n- text: Punk ass, pussy ass\n  start_ms: 232590\n  end_ms: 232840\n- text: We ain't gotta show you no more, man\n  start_ms: 232840\n  end_ms: 233260\n- text: We out\n  start_ms: 233260\n  end_ms: 233660\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 233660\nplain: |-\n  Takin' it from the top?\n  (Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\n  Tippy?\n  All my people (sing it, daddy)\n  Hey, uh\n\n  Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  Ticallion, hmmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your housing projects\n  I represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\n  Hell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n  It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n  Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\n  Plus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n  (Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n\n  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n  Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical, that stays open like an all-night store\n  For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existence, M-E-T\n  Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\n  I's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  The Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n  Yo' shit broke down, light your flair\n  This the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n\n  The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  Ayo my man (Tical) hear me now\n  Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n  Forget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  Empty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\n  Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  (It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\n  How high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\n  How sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  Recognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  (How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n  (How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n\n  'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\n  Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n  Check it\n  I brings havoc with my hectic\n  Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n\n  Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n  You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n\n  As I run a mile with a racist\n  My style was born in the pissy staircases\n  Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n  I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  Rollin' blunts' an all-day habit\n  I get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\n  Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n  The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n\n  Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n  Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n  Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n  Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n  Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  That like to spit and read Mad magazines\n\n  I fly more heads than Continental\n  Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n  But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  I breaks 'em off proper\n  Ask Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\n  Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n  Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  To make your mind tickle\n  For the nine nickle\n\n  Yo Red, yo Red\n  Punk ass, pussy ass\n  We ain't gotta show you no more, man\n  We out\n"},{"id":1846565,"name":"How High","trackName":"How High","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"How High","duration":281.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":true,"plainLyrics":"Takin' it from the top?\n(Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\nTippy?\nAll my people (sing it, daddy)\nHey, uh\n\nExcuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture\nStalk the dead body like a vulture\nTicallion, hmmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your housing projects\nI represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\nHell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\nIt be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\nRaw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\nPlus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n(Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n\n10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\nThree, two, murder one lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreaking all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mine to get yours\nFucker, we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical, that stays open like an all-night store\nFor real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existence, M-E-T\nAin't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\nI's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\nThe Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\nYo' shit broke down, light your flair\nThis the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it six million and one with your eyes closed\n\nThe blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\nAyo my man (Tical) hear me now\nBitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\nForget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\nEmpty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\nFuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n(It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\nHow high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\nHow sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nRecognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n(How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n(How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n\n'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\nIt ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\nPuff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\nWe don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\nCheck it\nI brings havoc with my hectic\nBring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\nMoving on your left kid, and I'm Method\nOut my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\nHailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\nHome of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n\nHey boy, you the rude boy on the block\nYou try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n\nAs I run a mile with a racist\nMy style was born in the pissy staircases\nDig it, eff a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\nEnter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\nI brings havoc with an A-K matic\nRollin' blunts' an all-day habit\nI get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\nPunks take a sip and test, who split your vest\nThe funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama just off stamina\n\nStyles not to be fucked with or played with\nFuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\nHitting snitches, twisting wigs with\nFat radical mathematical type scriptures\nI dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\nScared you, blew you to smitha-reens\nFuck the Marines, I got machines\nThat like to spit and read Mad magazines\n\nI fly more heads than Continental\nWreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\nLook I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\nBut I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\nI breaks 'em off proper\nAsk Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\nFunk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\nLook, I got the tools like Rickle\nTo make your mind tickle\nFor the nine nickle\n\nYo Red, yo Red\nPunk ass, pussy ass\nWe ain't gotta show you no more, man\nWe out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.37] Takin' it from the top?\n[00:01.26] (Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\n[00:01.87] Tippy?\n[00:02.92] All my people (sing it, daddy)\n[00:05.64] Hey, uh\n[00:07.80] \n[00:27.32] Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n[00:30.77] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n[00:33.41] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n[00:35.36] Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n[00:37.49] Ticallion, hmmm\n[00:38.74] Blacker than your blackest stallion\n[00:40.39] Hit your housing projects\n[00:41.86] I represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\n[00:43.87] Hell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n[00:46.31] It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n[00:48.98] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n[00:51.47] When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n[00:54.29] 'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n[00:56.72] Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n[00:59.61] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n[01:02.23] With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\n[01:05.09] Plus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n[01:07.47] (Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n[01:10.22] 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n[01:12.74] Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n[01:15.15] Tical bring it to that ass raw\n[01:17.21] Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n[01:19.12] Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n[01:21.74] Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n[01:23.70] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n[01:26.54] More than you bargained for\n[01:28.13] Tical, that stays open like an all-night store\n[01:30.77] For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n[01:33.42] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n[01:35.93] And end your existence, M-E-T\n[01:38.72] Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n[01:41.14] I's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n[01:44.02] The Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n[01:46.64] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n[01:48.69] Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n[01:51.91] Yo' shit broke down, light your flair\n[01:53.99] This the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\n[01:57.39] Six million ways to die, so I chose\n[01:59.86] Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n[02:02.44] The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\n[02:05.10] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n[02:07.94] Ayo my man (Tical) hear me now\n[02:10.22] Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n[02:12.10] Forget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\n[02:15.65] Empty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\n[02:18.12] Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n[02:20.83] How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n[02:23.54] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:26.09] (It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\n[02:28.54] How high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\n[02:31.09] How sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\n[02:33.84] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:36.54] Recognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n[02:39.19] (How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n[02:41.69] (How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:44.05] 'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n[02:46.44] It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\n[02:48.91] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n[02:51.64] We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n[02:54.37] Check it\n[02:55.25] I brings havoc with my hectic\n[02:56.85] Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n[02:59.41] Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n[03:01.86] Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n[03:05.20] Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n[03:08.60] Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n[03:10.47] Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n[03:13.19] You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n[03:15.87] As I run a mile with a racist\n[03:17.92] My style was born in the pissy staircases\n[03:20.52] Dig it, eff a rap critic\n[03:22.88] He talk about it while I live it\n[03:24.47] If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n[03:26.44] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n[03:29.37] Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n[03:32.42] I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n[03:34.77] Rollin' blunts' an all-day habit\n[03:36.88] I get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\n[03:39.57] Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n[03:42.06] The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n[03:44.94] Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n[03:47.55] Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n[03:50.00] Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n[03:53.38] Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n[03:55.35] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n[03:58.29] I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n[04:01.13] Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n[04:03.89] Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n[04:05.61] That like to spit and read Mad magazines\n[04:08.26] I fly more heads than Continental\n[04:10.45] Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n[04:13.77] Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n[04:16.12] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n[04:18.85] I breaks 'em off proper\n[04:20.24] Ask Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\n[04:21.82] Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n[04:24.24] Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n[04:25.90] To make your mind tickle\n[04:27.10] For the nine nickle\n[04:28.61] Yo Red, yo Red\n[04:29.72] Punk ass, pussy ass\n[04:32.04] We ain't gotta show you no more, man\n[04:35.60] We out\n[04:36.49] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 281000\n  instrumental: false\n  language: en\nlines:\n- text: Takin' it from the top?\n  start_ms: 0\n  end_ms: 1260\n  words:\n  - text: 'Takin'' '\n    start_ms: 0\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 560\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 640\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 780\n  - text: top?\n    start_ms: 880\n- text: Top\n  start_ms: 1270\n  end_ms: 1830\n  words:\n  - text: Top\n    start_ms: 1270\n- text: Tippy?\n  start_ms: 1830\n  end_ms: 2600\n  words:\n  - text: Tippy?\n    start_ms: 1830\n- text: Come on, my people\n  start_ms: 2600\n  end_ms: 4370\n  words:\n  - text: 'Come '\n    start_ms: 2600\n  - text: 'on, '\n    start_ms: 3260\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 3400\n  - text: people\n    start_ms: 3580\n- text: Sing it, daddy\n  start_ms: 4470\n  end_ms: 5950\n  words:\n  - text: 'Sing '\n    start_ms: 4470\n  - text: 'it, '\n    start_ms: 4786\n  - text: daddy\n    start_ms: 4924\n- text: Hey, yeah\n  start_ms: 5950\n  end_ms: 13820\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hey, '\n    start_ms: 5950\n  - text: yeah\n    start_ms: 7790\n- text: Taking my mind where it's never gone before\n  start_ms: 13820\n  end_ms: 16800\n  words:\n  - text: 'Taking '\n    start_ms: 13820\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 14530\n  - text: 'mind '\n    start_ms: 14728\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 14905\n  - text: 'it''s '\n    start_ms: 15201\n  - text: 'never '\n    start_ms: 15438\n  - text: 'gone '\n    start_ms: 15715\n  - text: before\n    start_ms: 16011\n- text: And so like a mushroom in cow shit\n  start_ms: 16800\n  end_ms: 19690\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 16800\n  - text: 'so '\n    start_ms: 17520\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 17680\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 17920\n  - text: 'mushroom '\n    start_ms: 18040\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 18600\n  - text: 'cow '\n    start_ms: 18820\n  - text: shit\n    start_ms: 19260\n- text: And I'm taking it just to get the ultimate high, baby\n  start_ms: 19760\n  end_ms: 22710\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 19760\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 20255\n  - text: 'taking '\n    start_ms: 20394\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 20730\n  - text: 'just '\n    start_ms: 20889\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 21067\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 21225\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 21423\n  - text: 'ultimate '\n    start_ms: 21601\n  - text: 'high, '\n    start_ms: 22116\n  - text: baby\n    start_ms: 22472\n- text: The ultimate high (oh)\n  start_ms: 22710\n  end_ms: 27560\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 22710\n  - text: 'ultimate '\n    start_ms: 23470\n  - text: 'high '\n    start_ms: 24050\n  - text: (oh)\n    start_ms: 24770\n- text: Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 27570\n  end_ms: 30810\n  words:\n  - text: 'Excuse '\n    start_ms: 27570\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 28745\n  - text: 'as '\n    start_ms: 29117\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 29449\n  - text: 'kiss '\n    start_ms: 29645\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 29958\n  - text: sky\n    start_ms: 30115\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye\n  start_ms: 30810\n  end_ms: 33030\n  words:\n  - text: 'Sing '\n    start_ms: 30810\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 31150\n  - text: 'song '\n    start_ms: 31270\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 31470\n  - text: 'sixpence, '\n    start_ms: 31610\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 32130\n  - text: 'pocket '\n    start_ms: 32250\n  - text: 'full '\n    start_ms: 32550\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 32750\n  - text: rye\n    start_ms: 32890\n- text: Who the fuck wanna die for their culture?\n  start_ms: 33160\n  end_ms: 35280\n  words:\n  - text: 'Who '\n    start_ms: 33160\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 33554\n  - text: 'fuck '\n    start_ms: 33712\n  - text: 'wanna '\n    start_ms: 34028\n  - text: 'die '\n    start_ms: 34343\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 34659\n  - text: 'their '\n    start_ms: 34817\n  - text: culture?\n    start_ms: 34994\n- text: Stalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm\n  start_ms: 35280\n  end_ms: 38530\n  words:\n  - text: 'Stalk '\n    start_ms: 35280\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 35880\n  - text: 'dead '\n    start_ms: 36020\n  - text: 'body '\n    start_ms: 36280\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 36600\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 36820\n  - text: 'vulture, '\n    start_ms: 36940\n  - text: 'Ticalion, '\n    start_ms: 37440\n  - text: hmm\n    start_ms: 38300\n- text: Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  start_ms: 38590\n  end_ms: 40270\n  words:\n  - text: 'Blacker '\n    start_ms: 38590\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 39292\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 39444\n  - text: 'blackest '\n    start_ms: 39577\n  - text: stallion\n    start_ms: 39938\n- text: Hit your housing projects\n  start_ms: 40270\n  end_ms: 41800\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hit '\n    start_ms: 40270\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 40713\n  - text: 'housing '\n    start_ms: 40886\n  - text: projects\n    start_ms: 41482\n- text: I represent yo' Shaolin, my nigga\n  start_ms: 41800\n  end_ms: 43710\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 41800\n  - text: 'represent '\n    start_ms: 42100\n  - text: 'yo'' '\n    start_ms: 42600\n  - text: 'Shaolin, '\n    start_ms: 42780\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 43260\n  - text: nigga\n    start_ms: 43460\n- text: Now yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n  start_ms: 43730\n  end_ms: 46110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Now '\n    start_ms: 43730\n  - text: 'yes, '\n    start_ms: 44345\n  - text: 'Apocalypse '\n    start_ms: 44603\n  - text: 'now, '\n    start_ms: 45257\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 45535\n  - text: 'gun '\n    start_ms: 45694\n  - text: blaow\n    start_ms: 45991\n- text: It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down, down\n  start_ms: 46110\n  end_ms: 48570\n  words:\n  - text: 'It '\n    start_ms: 46110\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 46490\n  - text: 'goin'' '\n    start_ms: 46650\n  - text: 'down, '\n    start_ms: 47010\n  - text: 'diggy '\n    start_ms: 47330\n  - text: 'diggy '\n    start_ms: 47650\n  - text: 'down, '\n    start_ms: 47990\n  - text: 'diggy '\n    start_ms: 48078\n  - text: 'down, '\n    start_ms: 48166\n  - text: down\n    start_ms: 48290\n- text: While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  start_ms: 48610\n  end_ms: 51180\n  words:\n  - text: 'While '\n    start_ms: 48610\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 49170\n  - text: 'planets '\n    start_ms: 49310\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 49710\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 49850\n  - text: 'stars '\n    start_ms: 50010\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 50370\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 50510\n  - text: 'moons '\n    start_ms: 50650\n  - text: collapse\n    start_ms: 50950\n- text: When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  start_ms: 51280\n  end_ms: 54200\n  words:\n  - text: 'When '\n    start_ms: 51280\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 51897\n  - text: 'raise '\n    start_ms: 51993\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 52205\n  - text: 'trigger '\n    start_ms: 52359\n  - text: 'finger, '\n    start_ms: 52687\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 52995\n  - text: 'y''all '\n    start_ms: 53130\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 53323\n  - text: 'hit '\n    start_ms: 53631\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 53805\n  - text: deck\n    start_ms: 53978\n- text: '''Cause ain''t no need for that, hustlers and hardcore'\n  start_ms: 54200\n  end_ms: 56670\n  words:\n  - text: '''Cause '\n    start_ms: 54200\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 54640\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 54780\n  - text: 'need '\n    start_ms: 54940\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 55120\n  - text: 'that, '\n    start_ms: 55320\n  - text: 'hustlers '\n    start_ms: 55560\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 56080\n  - text: hardcore\n    start_ms: 56240\n- text: Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  start_ms: 56750\n  end_ms: 59950\n  words:\n  - text: 'Raw '\n    start_ms: 56750\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 57466\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 57625\n  - text: 'floor '\n    start_ms: 57803\n  - text: 'raw '\n    start_ms: 58141\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 58400\n  - text: 'Reservoir '\n    start_ms: 58598\n  - text: Dogs\n    start_ms: 59294\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  start_ms: 59950\n  end_ms: 61950\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 59950\n  - text: Green-\n    start_ms: 60487\n  - text: 'Eyed '\n    start_ms: 60766\n  - text: 'Bandit '\n    start_ms: 61005\n  - text: 'can''t '\n    start_ms: 61462\n  - text: 'stand '\n    start_ms: 61721\n  - text: it\n    start_ms: 61934\n- text: With more fruitier loops than that Toucan Sam bitch\n  start_ms: 61950\n  end_ms: 65150\n  words:\n  - text: 'With '\n    start_ms: 61950\n  - text: 'more '\n    start_ms: 62508\n  - text: 'fruitier '\n    start_ms: 62767\n  - text: 'loops '\n    start_ms: 63286\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 63585\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 63764\n  - text: 'Toucan '\n    start_ms: 63924\n  - text: 'Sam '\n    start_ms: 64442\n  - text: bitch\n    start_ms: 64781\n- text: Plus the Bombazee got me wide (fucking with us)\n  start_ms: 65150\n  end_ms: 68150\n  words:\n  - text: 'Plus '\n    start_ms: 65150\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 65910\n  - text: 'Bombazee '\n    start_ms: 66070\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 66750\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 66990\n  - text: 'wide '\n    start_ms: 67170\n  - text: '(fucking '\n    start_ms: 67710\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 68090\n  - text: us)\n    start_ms: 68140\n- text: Is a straight suicide\n  start_ms: 68180\n  end_ms: 70020\n  words:\n  - text: 'Is '\n    start_ms: 68180\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 68888\n  - text: 'straight '\n    start_ms: 69105\n  - text: suicide\n    start_ms: 69400\n- text: Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four\n  start_ms: 70020\n  end_ms: 72520\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ten, '\n    start_ms: 70020\n  - text: 'nine, '\n    start_ms: 70706\n  - text: 'eight, '\n    start_ms: 71040\n  - text: 'seven, '\n    start_ms: 71295\n  - text: 'six, '\n    start_ms: 71687\n  - text: 'five, '\n    start_ms: 71981\n  - text: four\n    start_ms: 72334\n- text: Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n  start_ms: 72520\n  end_ms: 75030\n  words:\n  - text: 'Three, '\n    start_ms: 72520\n  - text: 'two, '\n    start_ms: 73254\n  - text: 'murder '\n    start_ms: 73572\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 73909\n  - text: 'lyric '\n    start_ms: 74187\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 74544\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 74683\n  - text: door\n    start_ms: 74861\n- text: Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  start_ms: 75030\n  end_ms: 77010\n  words:\n  - text: 'Tical '\n    start_ms: 75030\n  - text: 'bring '\n    start_ms: 75830\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 76050\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 76170\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 76350\n  - text: 'ass '\n    start_ms: 76590\n  - text: raw\n    start_ms: 76910\n- text: Breakin' all the rules like glass jaws\n  start_ms: 77090\n  end_ms: 79040\n  words:\n  - text: 'Breakin'' '\n    start_ms: 77090\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 77858\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 77993\n  - text: 'rules '\n    start_ms: 78127\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 78320\n  - text: 'glass '\n    start_ms: 78473\n  - text: jaws\n    start_ms: 78954\n- text: Nigga, you got to get mines to get yours\n  start_ms: 79040\n  end_ms: 81600\n  words:\n  - text: 'Nigga, '\n    start_ms: 79040\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 79956\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 80076\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 80255\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 80395\n  - text: 'mines '\n    start_ms: 80614\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 80913\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 81072\n  - text: yours\n    start_ms: 81311\n- text: Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n  start_ms: 81600\n  end_ms: 83680\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fucker, '\n    start_ms: 81600\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 82440\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 82580\n  - text: 'need '\n    start_ms: 82740\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 82900\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 83080\n  - text: tour\n    start_ms: 83540\n- text: I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rapture\n  start_ms: 83720\n  end_ms: 86330\n  words:\n  - text: 'I''d '\n    start_ms: 83720\n  - text: 'rather '\n    start_ms: 84038\n  - text: 'kick '\n    start_ms: 84355\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 84534\n  - text: 'facts '\n    start_ms: 84673\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 84891\n  - text: 'catch '\n    start_ms: 85030\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 85228\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 85348\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 85506\n  - text: rapture\n    start_ms: 85685\n- text: More than you bargained for\n  start_ms: 86330\n  end_ms: 87790\n  words:\n  - text: 'More '\n    start_ms: 86330\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 86970\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 87170\n  - text: 'bargained '\n    start_ms: 87330\n  - text: for\n    start_ms: 87770\n- text: Tical, I stays open like an all night store\n  start_ms: 87880\n  end_ms: 90560\n  words:\n  - text: 'Tical, '\n    start_ms: 87880\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 88920\n  - text: 'stays '\n    start_ms: 89020\n  - text: 'open '\n    start_ms: 89400\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 89680\n  - text: 'an '\n    start_ms: 89880\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 90000\n  - text: 'night '\n    start_ms: 90200\n  - text: store\n    start_ms: 90440\n- text: For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  start_ms: 90570\n  end_ms: 93450\n  words:\n  - text: 'For '\n    start_ms: 90570\n  - text: 'real, '\n    start_ms: 91225\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 91543\n  - text: 'keeps '\n    start_ms: 91662\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 91881\n  - text: 'ill '\n    start_ms: 92099\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 92318\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 92536\n  - text: 'piece '\n    start_ms: 92636\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 92874\n  - text: 'blue '\n    start_ms: 92993\n  - text: steel\n    start_ms: 93232\n- text: Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  start_ms: 93450\n  end_ms: 95990\n  words:\n  - text: 'Pointed '\n    start_ms: 93450\n  - text: 'at '\n    start_ms: 94283\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 94422\n  - text: 'temple '\n    start_ms: 94601\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 94899\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 95077\n  - text: 'intent '\n    start_ms: 95276\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 95672\n  - text: kill\n    start_ms: 95851\n- text: And end your existence, M-E-T\n  start_ms: 95990\n  end_ms: 98530\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 95990\n  - text: 'end '\n    start_ms: 96618\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 96873\n  - text: 'existence, '\n    start_ms: 97088\n  - text: M-\n    start_ms: 98246\n  - text: E-\n    start_ms: 98324\n  - text: T\n    start_ms: 98461\n- text: Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n  start_ms: 98530\n  end_ms: 100800\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ain''t '\n    start_ms: 98530\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 98970\n  - text: 'use '\n    start_ms: 99190\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 99450\n  - text: 'resistance, '\n    start_ms: 99630\n  - text: H-\n    start_ms: 100190\n  - text: O-\n    start_ms: 100410\n  - text: D\n    start_ms: 100750\n- text: I be's the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  start_ms: 100870\n  end_ms: 103860\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 100870\n  - text: 'be''s '\n    start_ms: 101444\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 101642\n  - text: 'ultimate '\n    start_ms: 101840\n  - text: 'rush '\n    start_ms: 102474\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 102712\n  - text: 'any '\n    start_ms: 102910\n  - text: 'nigga '\n    start_ms: 103167\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 103504\n  - text: dust\n    start_ms: 103702\n- text: The Egyptian Musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n  start_ms: 103860\n  end_ms: 106350\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 103860\n  - text: 'Egyptian '\n    start_ms: 104280\n  - text: 'Musk '\n    start_ms: 104840\n  - text: 'used '\n    start_ms: 105120\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 105280\n  - text: 'have '\n    start_ms: 105420\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 105580\n  - text: 'pull '\n    start_ms: 105780\n  - text: 'mad '\n    start_ms: 106020\n  - text: sluts\n    start_ms: 106260\n- text: I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  start_ms: 106350\n  end_ms: 108330\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 106350\n  - text: 'shift '\n    start_ms: 107086\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 107365\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 107584\n  - text: 'clutch '\n    start_ms: 107723\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 108022\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 108181\n  - text: Ruck\n    start_ms: 108285\n- text: Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n  start_ms: 108330\n  end_ms: 111690\n  words:\n  - text: 'Examine '\n    start_ms: 108330\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 109530\n  - text: 'nuts, '\n    start_ms: 109790\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 110210\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 110310\n  - text: 'stop '\n    start_ms: 110570\n  - text: '''til '\n    start_ms: 110900\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 111130\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 111310\n  - text: enough\n    start_ms: 111490\n- text: Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  start_ms: 111750\n  end_ms: 113740\n  words:\n  - text: 'Your '\n    start_ms: 111750\n  - text: 'shit '\n    start_ms: 112349\n  - text: 'broke '\n    start_ms: 112600\n  - text: 'down, '\n    start_ms: 112890\n  - text: 'light '\n    start_ms: 113160\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 113412\n  - text: flare\n    start_ms: 113605\n- text: Since the dark side tears you into Hollywood Squares\n  start_ms: 113740\n  end_ms: 117090\n  words:\n  - text: 'Since '\n    start_ms: 113740\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 114460\n  - text: 'dark '\n    start_ms: 114620\n  - text: 'side '\n    start_ms: 114940\n  - text: 'tears '\n    start_ms: 115260\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 115620\n  - text: 'into '\n    start_ms: 115860\n  - text: 'Hollywood '\n    start_ms: 116200\n  - text: Squares\n    start_ms: 116820\n- text: Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  start_ms: 117100\n  end_ms: 119660\n  words:\n  - text: 'Six '\n    start_ms: 117100\n  - text: 'million '\n    start_ms: 117860\n  - text: 'ways '\n    start_ms: 118240\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 118520\n  - text: 'die, '\n    start_ms: 118720\n  - text: 'so '\n    start_ms: 119120\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 119380\n  - text: chose\n    start_ms: 119500\n- text: Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n  start_ms: 119660\n  end_ms: 122420\n  words:\n  - text: 'Made '\n    start_ms: 119660\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 120300\n  - text: 'six '\n    start_ms: 120440\n  - text: 'million '\n    start_ms: 120660\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 120980\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 121180\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 121400\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 121600\n  - text: 'eyes '\n    start_ms: 121820\n  - text: closed\n    start_ms: 122120\n- text: The blindfold cold so you can feel the wrath\n  start_ms: 122470\n  end_ms: 124810\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 122470\n  - text: 'blindfold '\n    start_ms: 122833\n  - text: 'cold '\n    start_ms: 123616\n  - text: 'so '\n    start_ms: 123903\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 124075\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 124208\n  - text: 'feel '\n    start_ms: 124380\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 124571\n  - text: wrath\n    start_ms: 124705\n- text: And shatter the glass and second half on your funky ass\n  start_ms: 124810\n  end_ms: 127640\n  words:\n  - text: 'And '\n    start_ms: 124810\n  - text: 'shatter '\n    start_ms: 125310\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 125670\n  - text: 'glass '\n    start_ms: 125830\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 126150\n  - text: 'second '\n    start_ms: 126330\n  - text: 'half '\n    start_ms: 126710\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 127010\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 127130\n  - text: 'funky '\n    start_ms: 127310\n  - text: ass\n    start_ms: 127610\n- text: Ayo, my man (Tical), hear me now (huh)\n  start_ms: 127780\n  end_ms: 130250\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ayo, '\n    start_ms: 127780\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 128581\n  - text: 'man '\n    start_ms: 128756\n  - text: '(Tical), '\n    start_ms: 129186\n  - text: 'hear '\n    start_ms: 129635\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 129869\n  - text: 'now '\n    start_ms: 130045\n  - text: (huh)\n    start_ms: 130221\n- text: Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n  start_ms: 130250\n  end_ms: 132920\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bitches '\n    start_ms: 130250\n  - text: 'used '\n    start_ms: 130987\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 131147\n  - text: 'play '\n    start_ms: 131286\n  - text: 'me, '\n    start_ms: 131485\n  - text: 'now '\n    start_ms: 131625\n  - text: 'they '\n    start_ms: 131804\n  - text: 'can''t '\n    start_ms: 131984\n  - text: 'forget '\n    start_ms: 132163\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 132521\n  - text: now\n    start_ms: 132701\n- text: They get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  start_ms: 132920\n  end_ms: 135310\n  words:\n  - text: 'They '\n    start_ms: 132920\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 133320\n  - text: 'me '\n    start_ms: 133460\n  - text: 'mad, '\n    start_ms: 133660\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 134000\n  - text: 'rock '\n    start_ms: 134200\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 134480\n  - text: 'spot, '\n    start_ms: 134620\n  - text: 'check '\n    start_ms: 134980\n  - text: Glock\n    start_ms: 135254\n- text: Empty off a licking off in hip-hop\n  start_ms: 135330\n  end_ms: 137810\n  words:\n  - text: 'Empty '\n    start_ms: 135330\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 136244\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 136497\n  - text: 'licking '\n    start_ms: 136672\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 137081\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 137333\n  - text: hip-\n    start_ms: 137509\n  - text: hop\n    start_ms: 137684\n- text: Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  start_ms: 137810\n  end_ms: 140610\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fuck '\n    start_ms: 137810\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 138590\n  - text: 'Billboard, '\n    start_ms: 138790\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 139470\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 139630\n  - text: 'bullet '\n    start_ms: 139770\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 140150\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 140270\n  - text: block\n    start_ms: 140490\n- text: How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n  start_ms: 140670\n  end_ms: 143360\n  words:\n  - text: 'How '\n    start_ms: 140670\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 141170\n  - text: 'dope '\n    start_ms: 141350\n  - text: 'when '\n    start_ms: 141550\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 141710\n  - text: 'paid '\n    start_ms: 141890\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 142150\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 142330\n  - text: 'Billboard '\n    start_ms: 142530\n  - text: spot?\n    start_ms: 143170\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 143390\n  end_ms: 145750\n  words:\n  - text: 'Look '\n    start_ms: 143390\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 143990\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 144130\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 144290\n  - text: 'sky, '\n    start_ms: 144430\n  - text: 'it''s '\n    start_ms: 144810\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 144990\n  - text: 'bird, '\n    start_ms: 145130\n  - text: 'it''s '\n    start_ms: 145430\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 145610\n  - text: plane\n    start_ms: 145670\n- text: It's the Funk Doctor Spot smoking buddha on a train\n  start_ms: 145790\n  end_ms: 148490\n  words:\n  - text: 'It''s '\n    start_ms: 145790\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 146279\n  - text: 'Funk '\n    start_ms: 146436\n  - text: 'Doctor '\n    start_ms: 146670\n  - text: 'Spot '\n    start_ms: 147042\n  - text: 'smoking '\n    start_ms: 147375\n  - text: 'buddha '\n    start_ms: 147766\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 148118\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 148255\n  - text: train\n    start_ms: 148392\n- text: How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 148490\n  end_ms: 150820\n  words:\n  - text: 'How '\n    start_ms: 148490\n  - text: 'high? '\n    start_ms: 148629\n  - text: 'So '\n    start_ms: 149481\n  - text: 'high '\n    start_ms: 149640\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 149838\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 150076\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 150156\n  - text: 'kiss '\n    start_ms: 150334\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 150612\n  - text: sky\n    start_ms: 150751\n- text: How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 150820\n  end_ms: 153630\n  words:\n  - text: 'How '\n    start_ms: 150820\n  - text: 'sick? '\n    start_ms: 151740\n  - text: 'So '\n    start_ms: 152034\n  - text: 'sick '\n    start_ms: 152230\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 152426\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 152582\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 152719\n  - text: 'suck '\n    start_ms: 152935\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 153209\n  - text: dick\n    start_ms: 153444\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 153630\n  end_ms: 156270\n  words:\n  - text: 'Look '\n    start_ms: 153630\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 154390\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 154570\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 154690\n  - text: 'sky, '\n    start_ms: 154870\n  - text: 'it''s '\n    start_ms: 155230\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 155410\n  - text: 'bird, '\n    start_ms: 155570\n  - text: 'it''s '\n    start_ms: 155890\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 156010\n  - text: plane\n    start_ms: 156170\n- text: Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  start_ms: 156380\n  end_ms: 158850\n  words:\n  - text: 'Recognize '\n    start_ms: 156380\n  - text: 'Johnny '\n    start_ms: 157233\n  - text: 'Blaze, '\n    start_ms: 157590\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 157927\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 158106\n  - text: 'damn '\n    start_ms: 158225\n  - text: 'thing '\n    start_ms: 158542\n  - text: changed\n    start_ms: 158741\n- text: How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 158850\n  end_ms: 161440\n  words:\n  - text: 'How '\n    start_ms: 158850\n  - text: 'high? '\n    start_ms: 159006\n  - text: 'So '\n    start_ms: 159964\n  - text: 'high '\n    start_ms: 160277\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 160403\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 160512\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 160590\n  - text: 'kiss '\n    start_ms: 160785\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 161039\n  - text: sky\n    start_ms: 161215\n- text: How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 161440\n  end_ms: 164000\n  words:\n  - text: 'How '\n    start_ms: 161440\n  - text: 'sick? '\n    start_ms: 162124\n  - text: 'So '\n    start_ms: 162476\n  - text: 'sick '\n    start_ms: 162652\n  - text: 'that '\n    start_ms: 162827\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 163003\n  - text: 'can '\n    start_ms: 163101\n  - text: 'suck '\n    start_ms: 163316\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 163590\n  - text: dick\n    start_ms: 163785\n- text: '''Til my man Raider Ruckus come home'\n  start_ms: 164000\n  end_ms: 166010\n  words:\n  - text: '''Til '\n    start_ms: 164000\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 164480\n  - text: 'man '\n    start_ms: 164660\n  - text: 'Raider '\n    start_ms: 164960\n  - text: 'Ruckus '\n    start_ms: 165280\n  - text: 'come '\n    start_ms: 165680\n  - text: home\n    start_ms: 165884\n- text: It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get home\n  start_ms: 166190\n  end_ms: 168820\n  words:\n  - text: 'It '\n    start_ms: 166190\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 166792\n  - text: 'really '\n    start_ms: 167083\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 167471\n  - text: '''til '\n    start_ms: 167665\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 167879\n  - text: 'Ruckus '\n    start_ms: 168015\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 168364\n  - text: home\n    start_ms: 168577\n- text: Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  start_ms: 168820\n  end_ms: 171630\n  words:\n  - text: 'Puff '\n    start_ms: 168820\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 169540\n  - text: 'meth '\n    start_ms: 169640\n  - text: 'bone, '\n    start_ms: 169940\n  - text: 'now '\n    start_ms: 170280\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 170460\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 170640\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 170940\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 171100\n  - text: 'red '\n    start_ms: 171260\n  - text: zone\n    start_ms: 171520\n- text: We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n  start_ms: 171680\n  end_ms: 174650\n  words:\n  - text: 'We '\n    start_ms: 171680\n  - text: 'don''t '\n    start_ms: 172096\n  - text: 'need '\n    start_ms: 172254\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 172432\n  - text: 'dirt '\n    start_ms: 172630\n  - text: 'weed, '\n    start_ms: 172908\n  - text: 'we '\n    start_ms: 173125\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 173284\n  - text: 'our '\n    start_ms: 173502\n  - text: 'fuckin'' '\n    start_ms: 173700\n  - text: own\n    start_ms: 174155\n- text: Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n  start_ms: 174650\n  end_ms: 176820\n  words:\n  - text: 'Check '\n    start_ms: 174650\n  - text: 'it, '\n    start_ms: 175148\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 175466\n  - text: 'brings '\n    start_ms: 175546\n  - text: 'havoc '\n    start_ms: 175884\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 176223\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 176382\n  - text: hectic\n    start_ms: 176561\n- text: Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  start_ms: 176820\n  end_ms: 179410\n  words:\n  - text: 'Bring '\n    start_ms: 176820\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 177378\n  - text: 'Pain '\n    start_ms: 177513\n  - text: 'lyrics '\n    start_ms: 177821\n  - text: 'screaming '\n    start_ms: 178091\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 178438\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 178611\n  - text: antiseptic\n    start_ms: 178784\n- text: Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  start_ms: 179410\n  end_ms: 181580\n  words:\n  - text: 'Moving '\n    start_ms: 179410\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 180090\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 180210\n  - text: 'left '\n    start_ms: 180390\n  - text: 'kid, '\n    start_ms: 180670\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 181070\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 181270\n  - text: Method\n    start_ms: 181410\n- text: Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  start_ms: 181620\n  end_ms: 185120\n  words:\n  - text: 'Out '\n    start_ms: 181620\n  - text: 'my '\n    start_ms: 182200\n  - text: 'fucking '\n    start_ms: 182400\n  - text: 'dome '\n    start_ms: 182780\n  - text: 'piece, '\n    start_ms: 183220\n  - text: 'plus '\n    start_ms: 183660\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 183900\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 183980\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 184160\n  - text: 'love '\n    start_ms: 184340\n  - text: 'for '\n    start_ms: 184620\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 184820\n  - text: beast\n    start_ms: 184980\n- text: Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  start_ms: 185190\n  end_ms: 188470\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hailing '\n    start_ms: 185190\n  - text: 'from '\n    start_ms: 185990\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 186190\n  - text: 'big '\n    start_ms: 186350\n  - text: 'East '\n    start_ms: 186670\n  - text: 'Coast, '\n    start_ms: 187170\n  - text: 'where '\n    start_ms: 187490\n  - text: 'niggas '\n    start_ms: 187650\n  - text: 'pack '\n    start_ms: 187990\n  - text: toast\n    start_ms: 188350\n- text: Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n  start_ms: 188470\n  end_ms: 190540\n  words:\n  - text: 'Home '\n    start_ms: 188470\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 188990\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 189130\n  - text: 'drug '\n    start_ms: 189250\n  - text: 'kingpin '\n    start_ms: 189530\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 190110\n  - text: 'cut '\n    start_ms: 190290\n  - text: throats\n    start_ms: 190504\n- text: Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n  start_ms: 190550\n  end_ms: 193140\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hey '\n    start_ms: 190550\n  - text: 'boy, '\n    start_ms: 190978\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 191621\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 191796\n  - text: 'rude '\n    start_ms: 191952\n  - text: 'boy '\n    start_ms: 192205\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 192575\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 192751\n  - text: block\n    start_ms: 192906\n- text: You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n  start_ms: 193140\n  end_ms: 195880\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 193140\n  - text: 'try '\n    start_ms: 193440\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 193720\n  - text: 'stop '\n    start_ms: 193860\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 194120\n  - text: 'bum '\n    start_ms: 194280\n  - text: 'rush, '\n    start_ms: 194520\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 194800\n  - text: 'will '\n    start_ms: 194940\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 195240\n  - text: popped\n    start_ms: 195560\n- text: As I run a mile with a racist\n  start_ms: 195910\n  end_ms: 197820\n  words:\n  - text: 'As '\n    start_ms: 195910\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 196410\n  - text: 'run '\n    start_ms: 196550\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 196730\n  - text: 'mile '\n    start_ms: 196890\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 197210\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 197390\n  - text: racist\n    start_ms: 197550\n- text: My style was born in the pissy staircases\n  start_ms: 197850\n  end_ms: 200600\n  words:\n  - text: 'My '\n    start_ms: 197850\n  - text: 'style '\n    start_ms: 198416\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 198689\n  - text: 'born '\n    start_ms: 198864\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 199157\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 199293\n  - text: 'pissy '\n    start_ms: 199430\n  - text: staircases\n    start_ms: 199800\n- text: Dig it, F a rap critic\n  start_ms: 200600\n  end_ms: 202600\n  words:\n  - text: 'Dig '\n    start_ms: 200600\n  - text: 'it, '\n    start_ms: 201360\n  - text: 'F '\n    start_ms: 201900\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 202000\n  - text: 'rap '\n    start_ms: 202120\n  - text: critic\n    start_ms: 202360\n- text: He talk about it while I live it\n  start_ms: 202680\n  end_ms: 204350\n  words:\n  - text: 'He '\n    start_ms: 202680\n  - text: 'talk '\n    start_ms: 203100\n  - text: 'about '\n    start_ms: 203360\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 203640\n  - text: 'while '\n    start_ms: 203760\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 203960\n  - text: 'live '\n    start_ms: 204100\n  - text: it\n    start_ms: 204280\n- text: If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n  start_ms: 204360\n  end_ms: 206480\n  words:\n  - text: 'If '\n    start_ms: 204360\n  - text: 'Red '\n    start_ms: 204796\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 205053\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 205232\n  - text: 'blunt, '\n    start_ms: 205390\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 205747\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 205886\n  - text: 'second '\n    start_ms: 206044\n  - text: 'one '\n    start_ms: 206381\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 206463\n  - text: 'hit '\n    start_ms: 206469\n  - text: it\n    start_ms: 206476\n- text: Look up in the-, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  start_ms: 206480\n  end_ms: 209240\n  words:\n  - text: 'Look '\n    start_ms: 206480\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 206909\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 207085\n  - text: 'the-, '\n    start_ms: 207241\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 207514\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 207611\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 207806\n  - text: 'verbs, '\n    start_ms: 207962\n  - text: 'nouns '\n    start_ms: 208255\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 208489\n  - text: 'Glocks '\n    start_ms: 208645\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 208996\n  - text: ya\n    start_ms: 209133\n- text: Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n  start_ms: 209240\n  end_ms: 212290\n  words:\n  - text: 'Enter '\n    start_ms: 209240\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 209780\n  - text: 'center, '\n    start_ms: 209960\n  - text: 'lyrics '\n    start_ms: 210460\n  - text: 'bang '\n    start_ms: 210840\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 211100\n  - text: Rico-\n    start_ms: 211300\n  - text: 'chet '\n    start_ms: 211860\n  - text: Rabbit\n    start_ms: 212140\n- text: I brings havoc with an A-K 'matic\n  start_ms: 212380\n  end_ms: 214620\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 212380\n  - text: 'brings '\n    start_ms: 212918\n  - text: 'havoc '\n    start_ms: 213226\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 213553\n  - text: 'an '\n    start_ms: 213726\n  - text: A-\n    start_ms: 213918\n  - text: 'K '\n    start_ms: 214168\n  - text: '''matic'\n    start_ms: 214399\n- text: Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n  start_ms: 214620\n  end_ms: 216510\n  words:\n  - text: 'Rollin'' '\n    start_ms: 214620\n  - text: 'blunts '\n    start_ms: 215420\n  - text: 'an '\n    start_ms: 215700\n  - text: 'all '\n    start_ms: 215900\n  - text: 'day '\n    start_ms: 216120\n  - text: habit\n    start_ms: 216420\n- text: I get it on like Smith & Wes', who clique's the best?\n  start_ms: 216550\n  end_ms: 219260\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 216550\n  - text: 'get '\n    start_ms: 217124\n  - text: 'it '\n    start_ms: 217282\n  - text: 'on '\n    start_ms: 217480\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 217598\n  - text: 'Smith & '\n    start_ms: 217737\n  - text: 'Wes'', '\n    start_ms: 218172\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 218587\n  - text: 'clique''s '\n    start_ms: 218765\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 219042\n  - text: best?\n    start_ms: 219181\n- text: Punks take a sip and test, who splits your vest?\n  start_ms: 219260\n  end_ms: 221790\n  words:\n  - text: 'Punks '\n    start_ms: 219260\n  - text: 'take '\n    start_ms: 220040\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 220240\n  - text: 'sip '\n    start_ms: 220340\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 220540\n  - text: 'test, '\n    start_ms: 220700\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 221140\n  - text: 'splits '\n    start_ms: 221280\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 221600\n  - text: vest?\n    start_ms: 221735\n- text: The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  start_ms: 221810\n  end_ms: 224750\n  words:\n  - text: 'The '\n    start_ms: 221810\n  - text: 'funk '\n    start_ms: 222390\n  - text: 'phenomenon, '\n    start_ms: 222919\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 223570\n  - text: 'bombing '\n    start_ms: 223710\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 224050\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 224190\n  - text: Lebanon\n    start_ms: 224390\n- text: Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n  start_ms: 224750\n  end_ms: 227450\n  words:\n  - text: 'Blow '\n    start_ms: 224750\n  - text: 'canals '\n    start_ms: 225388\n  - text: 'of '\n    start_ms: 225846\n  - text: 'Panama '\n    start_ms: 226005\n  - text: 'just '\n    start_ms: 226523\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 226743\n  - text: stamina\n    start_ms: 227002\n- text: Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  start_ms: 227450\n  end_ms: 229830\n  words:\n  - text: 'Styles '\n    start_ms: 227450\n  - text: 'not '\n    start_ms: 228310\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 228490\n  - text: 'be '\n    start_ms: 228650\n  - text: 'fucked '\n    start_ms: 228870\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 229150\n  - text: 'or '\n    start_ms: 229430\n  - text: 'played '\n    start_ms: 229590\n  - text: with\n    start_ms: 229820\n- text: Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n  start_ms: 229830\n  end_ms: 233140\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fuck '\n    start_ms: 229830\n  - text: 'them '\n    start_ms: 230430\n  - text: 'pretty '\n    start_ms: 230630\n  - text: 'hoes, '\n    start_ms: 230950\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 231310\n  - text: 'love '\n    start_ms: 231430\n  - text: 'those '\n    start_ms: 231610\n  - text: 'Section '\n    start_ms: 231930\n  - text: '8 '\n    start_ms: 232450\n  - text: bit-\n    start_ms: 232590\n  - text: ches\n    start_ms: 233050\n- text: Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n  start_ms: 233180\n  end_ms: 235220\n  words:\n  - text: 'Hitting '\n    start_ms: 233180\n  - text: 'snitches, '\n    start_ms: 233880\n  - text: 'twisting '\n    start_ms: 234520\n  - text: 'wigs '\n    start_ms: 234920\n  - text: with\n    start_ms: 235180\n- text: Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  start_ms: 235240\n  end_ms: 238090\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fat '\n    start_ms: 235240\n  - text: 'radical '\n    start_ms: 235876\n  - text: 'mathematical '\n    start_ms: 236352\n  - text: 'type '\n    start_ms: 237186\n  - text: scriptures\n    start_ms: 237464\n- text: I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n  start_ms: 238090\n  end_ms: 240920\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 238090\n  - text: 'dig '\n    start_ms: 238743\n  - text: 'up '\n    start_ms: 238941\n  - text: 'in '\n    start_ms: 239119\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 239258\n  - text: 'planets '\n    start_ms: 239436\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 239871\n  - text: Diga-\n    start_ms: 240188\n  - text: boo\n    start_ms: 240821\n- text: Scared you, blew you to smithereens\n  start_ms: 240920\n  end_ms: 243590\n  words:\n  - text: 'Scared '\n    start_ms: 240920\n  - text: 'you, '\n    start_ms: 241740\n  - text: 'blew '\n    start_ms: 242120\n  - text: 'you '\n    start_ms: 242380\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 242580\n  - text: smithereens\n    start_ms: 242780\n- text: Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  start_ms: 243640\n  end_ms: 245580\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fuck '\n    start_ms: 243640\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 244290\n  - text: 'Marines, '\n    start_ms: 244408\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 244920\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 245038\n  - text: machines\n    start_ms: 245216\n- text: That like to spit and read MAD magazines\n  start_ms: 245580\n  end_ms: 248150\n  words:\n  - text: 'That '\n    start_ms: 245580\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 246018\n  - text: 'to '\n    start_ms: 246198\n  - text: 'spit '\n    start_ms: 246457\n  - text: 'and '\n    start_ms: 246835\n  - text: 'read '\n    start_ms: 247014\n  - text: 'MAD '\n    start_ms: 247333\n  - text: magazines\n    start_ms: 247632\n- text: I fly more heads than Continental\n  start_ms: 248150\n  end_ms: 250120\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 248150\n  - text: 'fly '\n    start_ms: 248890\n  - text: 'more '\n    start_ms: 249090\n  - text: 'heads '\n    start_ms: 249250\n  - text: 'than '\n    start_ms: 249470\n  - text: Continental\n    start_ms: 249630\n- text: Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  start_ms: 250130\n  end_ms: 253410\n  words:\n  - text: 'Wreck '\n    start_ms: 250130\n  - text: 'ya '\n    start_ms: 250790\n  - text: 'five '\n    start_ms: 250990\n  - text: 'times '\n    start_ms: 251310\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 251690\n  - text: U.\n    start_ms: 251970\n  - text: 'S. '\n    start_ms: 252130\n  - text: 'Air '\n    start_ms: 252350\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 252590\n  - text: 'an '\n    start_ms: 252770\n  - text: instrumental\n    start_ms: 252930\n- text: Look, I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n  start_ms: 253430\n  end_ms: 255980\n  words:\n  - text: 'Look, '\n    start_ms: 253430\n  - text: 'I''m '\n    start_ms: 254130\n  - text: 'not '\n    start_ms: 254270\n  - text: 'a '\n    start_ms: 254490\n  - text: 'halfway '\n    start_ms: 254570\n  - text: 'crook '\n    start_ms: 255070\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 255350\n  - text: 'bad '\n    start_ms: 255550\n  - text: looks\n    start_ms: 255850\n- text: But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  start_ms: 255980\n  end_ms: 258750\n  words:\n  - text: 'But '\n    start_ms: 255980\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 256440\n  - text: 'may '\n    start_ms: 256540\n  - text: 'murder '\n    start_ms: 256780\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 257100\n  - text: 'case '\n    start_ms: 257280\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 257540\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 257700\n  - text: 'name '\n    start_ms: 257860\n  - text: 'was '\n    start_ms: 258020\n  - text: 'Cal '\n    start_ms: 258200\n  - text: Brooks\n    start_ms: 258520\n- text: I breaks 'em off proper\n  start_ms: 258750\n  end_ms: 260150\n  words:\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 258750\n  - text: 'breaks '\n    start_ms: 259194\n  - text: '''em '\n    start_ms: 259407\n  - text: 'off '\n    start_ms: 259580\n  - text: proper\n    start_ms: 259793\n- text: Ask Biggie Smalls who shot ya\n  start_ms: 260150\n  end_ms: 261490\n  words:\n  - text: 'Ask '\n    start_ms: 260150\n  - text: 'Biggie '\n    start_ms: 260630\n  - text: 'Smalls '\n    start_ms: 260890\n  - text: 'who '\n    start_ms: 261210\n  - text: 'shot '\n    start_ms: 261370\n  - text: ya\n    start_ms: 261480\n- text: Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n  start_ms: 261570\n  end_ms: 264120\n  words:\n  - text: 'Funk '\n    start_ms: 261570\n  - text: 'Doctor '\n    start_ms: 262301\n  - text: 'with '\n    start_ms: 262705\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 262879\n  - text: 12-\n    start_ms: 263013\n  - text: 'gauge '\n    start_ms: 263379\n  - text: Mossberg\n    start_ms: 263706\n- text: Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  start_ms: 264120\n  end_ms: 265720\n  words:\n  - text: 'Look, '\n    start_ms: 264120\n  - text: 'I '\n    start_ms: 264792\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 264871\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 265048\n  - text: 'tools '\n    start_ms: 265187\n  - text: 'like '\n    start_ms: 265424\n  - text: Rickle\n    start_ms: 265621\n- text: To make your mind tickle (yo Red)\n  start_ms: 265720\n  end_ms: 267110\n  words:\n  - text: 'To '\n    start_ms: 265720\n  - text: 'make '\n    start_ms: 266193\n  - text: 'your '\n    start_ms: 266390\n  - text: 'mind '\n    start_ms: 266528\n  - text: 'tickle '\n    start_ms: 266824\n  - text: '(yo '\n    start_ms: 267080\n  - text: Red)\n    start_ms: 267099\n- text: For the nine nickel (yo Red)\n  start_ms: 267110\n  end_ms: 268300\n  words:\n  - text: 'For '\n    start_ms: 267110\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 267670\n  - text: 'nine '\n    start_ms: 267850\n  - text: 'nickel '\n    start_ms: 268190\n  - text: '(yo '\n    start_ms: 268277\n  - text: Red)\n    start_ms: 268292\n- text: Yo, Red, yo, Red (punk ass, pussy ass)\n  start_ms: 268340\n  end_ms: 271560\n  words:\n  - text: 'Yo, '\n    start_ms: 268340\n  - text: 'Red, '\n    start_ms: 268860\n  - text: 'yo, '\n    start_ms: 269240\n  - text: 'Red '\n    start_ms: 269500\n  - text: '(punk '\n    start_ms: 269726\n  - text: 'ass, '\n    start_ms: 269920\n  - text: 'pussy '\n    start_ms: 270320\n  - text: ass)\n    start_ms: 270760\n- text: You ain't got the shade no more, man, that's it, man (word up, man)\n  start_ms: 271660\n  end_ms: 275120\n  words:\n  - text: 'You '\n    start_ms: 271660\n  - text: 'ain''t '\n    start_ms: 272307\n  - text: 'got '\n    start_ms: 272503\n  - text: 'the '\n    start_ms: 272758\n  - text: 'shade '\n    start_ms: 272895\n  - text: 'no '\n    start_ms: 273228\n  - text: 'more, '\n    start_ms: 273503\n  - text: 'man, '\n    start_ms: 273875\n  - text: 'that''s '\n    start_ms: 274208\n  - text: 'it, '\n    start_ms: 274312\n  - text: 'man '\n    start_ms: 274326\n  - text: '(word '\n    start_ms: 274600\n  - text: 'up, '\n    start_ms: 274757\n  - text: man)\n    start_ms: 274914\n- text: We out, it's over\n  start_ms: 275120\n  end_ms: 278410\n  words:\n  - text: 'We '\n    start_ms: 275120\n  - text: 'out, '\n    start_ms: 275980\n  - text: 'it''s '\n    start_ms: 276300\n  - text: over\n    start_ms: 276820\n- text: Fake ass niggas\n  start_ms: 278420\n  end_ms: 280110\n  words:\n  - text: 'Fake '\n    start_ms: 278420\n  - text: 'ass '\n    start_ms: 279040\n  - text: niggas\n    start_ms: 279360\nplain: |-\n  Takin' it from the top?\n  (Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\n  Tippy?\n  All my people (sing it, daddy)\n  Hey, uh\n\n  Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  Ticallion, hmmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your housing projects\n  I represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\n  Hell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n  It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n  Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\n  Plus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n  (Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n\n  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n  Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical, that stays open like an all-night store\n  For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existence, M-E-T\n  Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\n  I's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  The Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n  Yo' shit broke down, light your flair\n  This the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n\n  The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  Ayo my man (Tical) hear me now\n  Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n  Forget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  Empty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\n  Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  (It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\n  How high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\n  How sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  Recognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  (How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n  (How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n\n  'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\n  Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n  Check it\n  I brings havoc with my hectic\n  Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n\n  Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n  You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n\n  As I run a mile with a racist\n  My style was born in the pissy staircases\n  Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n  I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  Rollin' blunts' an all-day habit\n  I get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\n  Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n  The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n\n  Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n  Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n  Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n  Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n  Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  That like to spit and read Mad magazines\n\n  I fly more heads than Continental\n  Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n  But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  I breaks 'em off proper\n  Ask Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\n  Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n  Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  To make your mind tickle\n  For the nine nickle\n\n  Yo Red, yo Red\n  Punk ass, pussy ass\n  We ain't gotta show you no more, man\n  We out\n"},{"id":32090352,"name":"How High","trackName":"How High","artistName":"Redman & Method Man","albumName":"How High","duration":236.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Excuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture\nStalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your housing projects\nI represent yo Shaolin my nigga\nNow yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\nIt be going down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck\nCause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\nRaw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more Fruitier Loops than that Toucan Sam bitch\nPlus the Bombazee got me wide\n\nFucking with us\n\nIs a straight suicide\n\n10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n3, 2, murder 1 lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreaking all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mines to get yours\nFucka we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical I stays open like an all night store\nFor real I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existence, M-E-T\nAin't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\nI bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\nThe Egyptian Musk used to have me pull mad sluts\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough\nYour shit broke down, light your flare\nSince the darkside tears you into Hollywood Squares\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it six million and one with your eyes closed\nThe blindfold cold, so you can feel the wrath\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your monkey-ass\nAnd yo my man (Tical) hit me now\nBitches used to play me now they can't forget me now\nThey get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock\nEmpty off a licking off a hip-hop\nFuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you payed for your billboard spot\n\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nIt's the Funk Doctor Spot smoking buddha on a train\nHOW HIGH So high that I can kiss the sky\nHOW SICK So sick that you can suck my dick\nLook up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\nRecognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\nHOW HIGH So High that I can kiss the sky\nHOW SICK So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\nTill my man Raider Ruckus come home\nIt ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home\nPuff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\nWe don't need your dirt weed we got our fucking own\nCheck it I brings havoc with my hectic\nBring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\nMoving on your left kid, and I'm Method\nOut my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\nHailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\nHome of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n\nAs I run a mile with a racist\nMy style was born in the pissy stair cases\nDig it, eff a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\nEnter the center, lyrics bang like ricochet rabbit\nI brings havoc with an A-K matic, rolling blunts an all day habit\nI get it on like Smif'n'Wes who clicks the best\nPunks take a sip and test, who split your vest\nThe funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama just off stamina\nStyles not to be fucked with or played with\nFuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 Bit-ches\nHitting switches, twisting wigs with\nFat radical mathematical type scriptures\nI dig up in your planets like Digga -- boo\nScared you, blew you to smitha-reens\nFuck the Marines, I got machines\nThat like to spit and read Mad Magazine\nI fly more heads than Continental\nWreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\nLook I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\nBut I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\nI breaks em up proper\nAsk Biggie Smalls Who Shot Ya\nFunk doctor, with the twelve Gauge Mossberg\nLook I got the tools like Rickle\nTo make your mind tickle\nFor the nine nickle","syncedLyrics":"[00:28.46] Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n[00:31.76] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye\n[00:36.24] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n[00:37.28] Stalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm\n[00:37.65] Blacker than your blackest stallion\n[00:40.89] Hit your housing projects\n[00:42.22] I represent yo Shaolin my nigga\n[00:43.95] Now yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n[00:46.59] It be going down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n[00:49.06] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n[00:51.43] When I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck\n[00:53.93] Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n[00:56.18] Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n[00:58.96] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n[01:01.65] With more Fruitier Loops than that Toucan Sam bitch\n[01:04.07] Plus the Bombazee got me wide\n[01:07.12] Fucking with us\n[01:07.92] Is a straight suicide\n[01:09.41] 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n[01:12.04] 3, 2, murder 1 lyric at your door\n[01:14.46] Tical bring it to that ass raw\n[01:16.73] Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n[01:18.52] Nigga, you got to get mines to get yours\n[01:20.84] Fucka we don't need no rap tour\n[01:23.01] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n[01:25.68] More than you bargained for\n[01:27.53] Tical I stays open like an all night store\n[01:29.83] For real I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n[01:32.73] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n[01:35.38] And end your existence, M-E-T\n[01:38.16] Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n[01:40.80] I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n[01:43.15] The Egyptian Musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n[01:45.89] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n[01:48.18] Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough\n[01:51.18] Your shit broke down, light your flare\n[01:53.28] Since the darkside tears you into Hollywood Squares\n[01:56.50] Six million ways to die, so I chose\n[01:59.14] Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n[02:01.57] The blindfold cold, so you can feel the wrath\n[02:04.36] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey-ass\n[02:07.16] And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n[02:09.62] Bitches used to play me now they can't forget me now\n[02:12.05] They get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock\n[02:14.82] Empty off a licking off a hip-hop\n[02:17.18] Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n[02:20.12] How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot\n[02:22.66] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:25.28] It's the Funk Doctor Spot smoking buddha on a train\n[02:27.94] HOW HIGH So high that I can kiss the sky\n[02:30.40] HOW SICK So sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:33.26] Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n[02:35.96] Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n[02:38.21] HOW HIGH So High that I can kiss the sky\n[02:40.99] HOW SICK So Sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:44.07] Till my man Raider Ruckus come home\n[02:45.69] It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home\n[02:48.51] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n[02:51.01] We don't need your dirt weed we got our fucking own\n[02:53.53] Check it I brings havoc with my hectic\n[02:56.20] Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n[02:58.77] Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n[03:00.72] Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n[03:04.23] Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n[03:07.75] Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n[03:10.21] As I run a mile with a racist\n[03:13.12] My style was born in the pissy stair cases\n[03:20.14] Dig it, eff a rap critic\n[03:22.00] He talk about it while I live it\n[03:23.64] If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n[03:26.43] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n[03:28.57] Enter the center, lyrics bang like ricochet rabbit\n[03:30.61] I brings havoc with an A-K matic, rolling blunts an all day habit\n[03:34.23] I get it on like Smif'n'Wes who clicks the best\n[03:38.72] Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n[03:41.54] The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n[03:44.02] Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n[03:47.15] Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n[03:49.59] Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 Bit-ches\n[03:52.01] Hitting switches, twisting wigs with\n[03:54.88] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n[03:57.08] I dig up in your planets like Digga -- boo\n[04:00.76] Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n[04:03.04] Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n[04:04.89] That like to spit and read Mad Magazine\n[04:07.55] I fly more heads than Continental\n[04:09.61] Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n[04:12.40] Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n[04:15.16] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n[04:18.13] I breaks em up proper\n[04:19.82] Ask Biggie Smalls Who Shot Ya\n[04:21.64] Funk doctor, with the twelve Gauge Mossberg\n[04:23.68] Look I got the tools like Rickle\n[04:25.65] To make your mind tickle\n[04:27.59] For the nine nickle\n[04:28.44] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High\n  artist: Redman & Method Man\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 236000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 28460\n  end_ms: 31760\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye\n  start_ms: 31760\n  end_ms: 36240\n- text: Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  start_ms: 36240\n  end_ms: 37280\n- text: Stalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm\n  start_ms: 37280\n  end_ms: 37650\n- text: Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  start_ms: 37650\n  end_ms: 40890\n- text: Hit your housing projects\n  start_ms: 40890\n  end_ms: 42220\n- text: I represent yo Shaolin my nigga\n  start_ms: 42220\n  end_ms: 43950\n- text: Now yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  start_ms: 43950\n  end_ms: 46590\n- text: It be going down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n  start_ms: 46590\n  end_ms: 49060\n- text: While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  start_ms: 49060\n  end_ms: 51430\n- text: When I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  start_ms: 51430\n  end_ms: 53930\n- text: Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n  start_ms: 53930\n  end_ms: 56180\n- text: Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  start_ms: 56180\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 61650\n- text: With more Fruitier Loops than 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end_ms: 147940\n- text: HOW HIGH So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 147940\n  end_ms: 150400\n- text: HOW SICK So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 150400\n  end_ms: 153260\n- text: Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  start_ms: 153260\n  end_ms: 155960\n- text: Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  start_ms: 155960\n  end_ms: 158210\n- text: HOW HIGH So High that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 158210\n  end_ms: 160990\n- text: HOW SICK So Sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 160990\n  end_ms: 164070\n- text: Till my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  start_ms: 164070\n  end_ms: 165690\n- text: It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home\n  start_ms: 165690\n  end_ms: 168510\n- text: Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  start_ms: 168510\n  end_ms: 171010\n- text: We don't need your dirt weed we got our fucking own\n  start_ms: 171010\n  end_ms: 173530\n- text: Check it I brings havoc with my hectic\n  start_ms: 173530\n  end_ms: 176200\n- text: Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  start_ms: 176200\n  end_ms: 178770\n- text: Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  start_ms: 178770\n  end_ms: 180720\n- text: Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  start_ms: 180720\n  end_ms: 184230\n- text: Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  start_ms: 184230\n  end_ms: 187750\n- text: Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  start_ms: 187750\n  end_ms: 190210\n- text: As I run a mile with a racist\n  start_ms: 190210\n  end_ms: 193120\n- text: My style was born in the pissy stair cases\n  start_ms: 193120\n  end_ms: 200140\n- text: Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  start_ms: 200140\n  end_ms: 202000\n- text: He talk about it while I live it\n  start_ms: 202000\n  end_ms: 203640\n- text: If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n  start_ms: 203640\n  end_ms: 206430\n- text: Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  start_ms: 206430\n  end_ms: 208570\n- text: Enter the center, lyrics bang like ricochet rabbit\n  start_ms: 208570\n  end_ms: 210610\n- text: I brings havoc with an A-K matic, rolling blunts an all day habit\n  start_ms: 210610\n  end_ms: 214230\n- text: I get it on like Smif'n'Wes who clicks the best\n  start_ms: 214230\n  end_ms: 218720\n- text: Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n  start_ms: 218720\n  end_ms: 221540\n- text: The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  start_ms: 221540\n  end_ms: 224020\n- text: Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n  start_ms: 224020\n  end_ms: 227150\n- text: Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  start_ms: 227150\n  end_ms: 229590\n- text: Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 Bit-ches\n  start_ms: 229590\n  end_ms: 232010\n- text: Hitting switches, twisting wigs with\n  start_ms: 232010\n  end_ms: 234880\n- text: Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  start_ms: 234880\n  end_ms: 237080\n- text: I dig up in your planets like Digga -- boo\n  start_ms: 237080\n  end_ms: 240760\n- text: Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n  start_ms: 240760\n  end_ms: 243040\n- text: Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  start_ms: 243040\n  end_ms: 244890\n- text: That like to spit and read Mad Magazine\n  start_ms: 244890\n  end_ms: 247550\n- text: I fly more heads than Continental\n  start_ms: 247550\n  end_ms: 249610\n- text: Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  start_ms: 249610\n  end_ms: 252400\n- text: Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  start_ms: 252400\n  end_ms: 255160\n- text: But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  start_ms: 255160\n  end_ms: 258130\n- text: I breaks em up proper\n  start_ms: 258130\n  end_ms: 259820\n- text: Ask Biggie Smalls Who Shot Ya\n  start_ms: 259820\n  end_ms: 261640\n- text: Funk doctor, with the twelve Gauge Mossberg\n  start_ms: 261640\n  end_ms: 263680\n- text: Look I got the tools like Rickle\n  start_ms: 263680\n  end_ms: 265650\n- text: To make your mind tickle\n  start_ms: 265650\n  end_ms: 267590\n- text: For the nine nickle\n  start_ms: 267590\n  end_ms: 268440\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 268440\nplain: |-\n  Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your housing projects\n  I represent yo Shaolin my nigga\n  Now yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  It be going down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n  Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more Fruitier Loops than that Toucan Sam bitch\n  Plus the Bombazee got me wide\n\n  Fucking with us\n\n  Is a straight suicide\n\n  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n  3, 2, murder 1 lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mines to get yours\n  Fucka we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical I stays open like an all night store\n  For real I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existence, M-E-T\n  Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\n  I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  The Egyptian Musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough\n  Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  Since the darkside tears you into Hollywood Squares\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n  The blindfold cold, so you can feel the wrath\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey-ass\n  And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  Bitches used to play me now they can't forget me now\n  They get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  Empty off a licking off a hip-hop\n  Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot\n\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  It's the Funk Doctor Spot smoking buddha on a train\n  HOW HIGH So high that I can kiss the sky\n  HOW SICK So sick that you can suck my dick\n  Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  HOW HIGH So High that I can kiss the sky\n  HOW SICK So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\n  Till my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home\n  Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  We don't need your dirt weed we got our fucking own\n  Check it I brings havoc with my hectic\n  Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n\n  As I run a mile with a racist\n  My style was born in the pissy stair cases\n  Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  Enter the center, lyrics bang like ricochet rabbit\n  I brings havoc with an A-K matic, rolling blunts an all day habit\n  I get it on like Smif'n'Wes who clicks the best\n  Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n  The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n  Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 Bit-ches\n  Hitting switches, twisting wigs with\n  Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  I dig up in your planets like Digga -- boo\n  Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n  Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  That like to spit and read Mad Magazine\n  I fly more heads than Continental\n  Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  I breaks em up proper\n  Ask Biggie Smalls Who Shot Ya\n  Funk doctor, with the twelve Gauge Mossberg\n  Look I got the tools like Rickle\n  To make your mind tickle\n  For the nine nickle\n"},{"id":22785085,"name":"How High","trackName":"How High","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"How High","duration":284.266667,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Takin' it from the top?\n(Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\nTippy?\nAll my people (sing it, daddy)\nHey, uh\n\nExcuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture\nStalk the dead body like a vulture\nTicallion, hmmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your housing projects\nI represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\nHell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\nIt be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\nRaw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\nPlus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n(Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n\n10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\nThree, two, murder one lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreaking all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mine to get yours\nFucker, we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical, that stays open like an all-night store\nFor real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existence, M-E-T\nAin't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\nI's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\nThe Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\nYo' shit broke down, light your flair\nThis the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it six million and one with your eyes closed\n\nThe blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\nAyo my man (Tical) hear me now\nBitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\nForget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\nEmpty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\nFuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n(It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\nHow high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\nHow sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nRecognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n(How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n(How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n\n'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\nIt ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\nPuff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\nWe don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\nCheck it\nI brings havoc with my hectic\nBring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\nMoving on your left kid, and I'm Method\nOut my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\nHailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\nHome of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n\nHey boy, you the rude boy on the block\nYou try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n\nAs I run a mile with a racist\nMy style was born in the pissy staircases\nDig it, eff a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\nEnter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\nI brings havoc with an A-K matic\nRollin' blunts' an all-day habit\nI get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\nPunks take a sip and test, who split your vest\nThe funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama just off stamina\n\nStyles not to be fucked with or played with\nFuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\nHitting snitches, twisting wigs with\nFat radical mathematical type scriptures\nI dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\nScared you, blew you to smitha-reens\nFuck the Marines, I got machines\nThat like to spit and read Mad magazines\n\nI fly more heads than Continental\nWreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\nLook I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\nBut I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\nI breaks 'em off proper\nAsk Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\nFunk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\nLook, I got the tools like Rickle\nTo make your mind tickle\nFor the nine nickle\n\nYo Red, yo Red\nPunk ass, pussy ass\nWe ain't gotta show you no more, man\nWe out","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.37] Takin' it from the top?\n[00:01.26] (Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\n[00:01.87] Tippy?\n[00:02.92] All my people (sing it, daddy)\n[00:05.64] Hey, uh\n[00:07.80] \n[00:27.32] Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n[00:30.77] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n[00:33.41] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n[00:35.36] Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n[00:37.49] Ticallion, hmmm\n[00:38.74] Blacker than your blackest stallion\n[00:40.39] Hit your housing projects\n[00:41.86] I represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\n[00:43.87] Hell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n[00:46.31] It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n[00:48.98] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n[00:51.47] When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n[00:54.29] 'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n[00:56.72] Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n[00:59.61] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n[01:02.23] With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\n[01:05.09] Plus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n[01:07.47] (Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n[01:10.22] 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n[01:12.74] Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n[01:15.15] Tical bring it to that ass raw\n[01:17.21] Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n[01:19.12] Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n[01:21.74] Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n[01:23.70] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n[01:26.54] More than you bargained for\n[01:28.13] Tical, that stays open like an all-night store\n[01:30.77] For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n[01:33.42] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n[01:35.93] And end your existence, M-E-T\n[01:38.72] Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n[01:41.14] I's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n[01:44.02] The Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n[01:46.64] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n[01:48.69] Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n[01:51.91] Yo' shit broke down, light your flair\n[01:53.99] This the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\n[01:57.39] Six million ways to die, so I chose\n[01:59.86] Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n[02:02.44] The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\n[02:05.10] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n[02:07.94] Ayo my man (Tical) hear me now\n[02:10.22] Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n[02:12.10] Forget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\n[02:15.65] Empty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\n[02:18.12] Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n[02:20.83] How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n[02:23.54] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:26.09] (It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\n[02:28.54] How high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\n[02:31.09] How sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\n[02:33.84] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:36.54] Recognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n[02:39.19] (How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n[02:41.69] (How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:44.05] 'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n[02:46.44] It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\n[02:48.91] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n[02:51.64] We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n[02:54.37] Check it\n[02:55.25] I brings havoc with my hectic\n[02:56.85] Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n[02:59.41] Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n[03:01.86] Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n[03:05.20] Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n[03:08.60] Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n[03:10.47] Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n[03:13.19] You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n[03:15.87] As I run a mile with a racist\n[03:17.92] My style was born in the pissy staircases\n[03:20.52] Dig it, eff a rap critic\n[03:22.88] He talk about it while I live it\n[03:24.47] If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n[03:26.44] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n[03:29.37] Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n[03:32.42] I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n[03:34.77] Rollin' blunts' an all-day habit\n[03:36.88] I get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\n[03:39.57] Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n[03:42.06] The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n[03:44.94] Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n[03:47.55] Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n[03:50.00] Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n[03:53.38] Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n[03:55.35] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n[03:58.29] I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n[04:01.13] Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n[04:03.89] Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n[04:05.61] That like to spit and read Mad magazines\n[04:08.26] I fly more heads than Continental\n[04:10.45] Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n[04:13.77] Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n[04:16.12] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n[04:18.85] I breaks 'em off proper\n[04:20.24] Ask Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\n[04:21.82] Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n[04:24.24] Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n[04:25.90] To make your mind tickle\n[04:27.10] For the nine nickle\n[04:28.61] Yo Red, yo Red\n[04:29.72] Punk ass, pussy ass\n[04:32.04] We ain't gotta show you no more, man\n[04:35.60] We out\n[04:36.49] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 284267\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Takin' it from the top?\n  start_ms: 370\n  end_ms: 1260\n- text: (Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\n  start_ms: 1260\n  end_ms: 1870\n- text: Tippy?\n  start_ms: 1870\n  end_ms: 2920\n- text: All my people (sing it, daddy)\n  start_ms: 2920\n  end_ms: 5640\n- text: Hey, uh\n  start_ms: 5640\n  end_ms: 7800\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 7800\n  end_ms: 27320\n- text: Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 27320\n  end_ms: 30770\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  start_ms: 30770\n  end_ms: 33410\n- text: Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  start_ms: 33410\n  end_ms: 35360\n- text: Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  start_ms: 35360\n  end_ms: 37490\n- text: Ticallion, hmmm\n  start_ms: 37490\n  end_ms: 38740\n- text: Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  start_ms: 38740\n  end_ms: 40390\n- text: Hit your housing projects\n  start_ms: 40390\n  end_ms: 41860\n- text: I represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\n  start_ms: 41860\n  end_ms: 43870\n- text: Hell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n  start_ms: 43870\n  end_ms: 46310\n- text: It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n  start_ms: 46310\n  end_ms: 48980\n- text: While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  start_ms: 48980\n  end_ms: 51470\n- text: When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  start_ms: 51470\n  end_ms: 54290\n- text: '''Cause ain''t no need for that, hustlers and hardcore'\n  start_ms: 54290\n  end_ms: 56720\n- text: Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  start_ms: 56720\n  end_ms: 59610\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  start_ms: 59610\n  end_ms: 62230\n- text: With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\n  start_ms: 62230\n  end_ms: 65090\n- text: Plus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n  start_ms: 65090\n  end_ms: 67470\n- text: (Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n  start_ms: 67470\n  end_ms: 70220\n- text: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n  start_ms: 70220\n  end_ms: 72740\n- text: Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n  start_ms: 72740\n  end_ms: 75150\n- text: Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  start_ms: 75150\n  end_ms: 77210\n- text: Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n  start_ms: 77210\n  end_ms: 79120\n- text: Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  start_ms: 79120\n  end_ms: 81740\n- text: Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n  start_ms: 81740\n  end_ms: 83700\n- text: I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  start_ms: 83700\n  end_ms: 86540\n- text: More than you bargained for\n  start_ms: 86540\n  end_ms: 88130\n- text: Tical, that stays open like an all-night store\n  start_ms: 88130\n  end_ms: 90770\n- text: For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  start_ms: 90770\n  end_ms: 93420\n- text: Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  start_ms: 93420\n  end_ms: 95930\n- text: And end your existence, M-E-T\n  start_ms: 95930\n  end_ms: 98720\n- text: Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n  start_ms: 98720\n  end_ms: 101140\n- text: I's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  start_ms: 101140\n  end_ms: 104020\n- text: The Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n  start_ms: 104020\n  end_ms: 106640\n- text: I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  start_ms: 106640\n  end_ms: 108690\n- text: Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n  start_ms: 108690\n  end_ms: 111910\n- text: Yo' shit broke down, light your flair\n  start_ms: 111910\n  end_ms: 113990\n- text: This the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\n  start_ms: 113990\n  end_ms: 117390\n- text: Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  start_ms: 117390\n  end_ms: 119860\n- text: Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n  start_ms: 119860\n  end_ms: 122440\n- text: The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\n  start_ms: 122440\n  end_ms: 125100\n- text: And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  start_ms: 125100\n  end_ms: 127940\n- text: Ayo my man (Tical) hear me now\n  start_ms: 127940\n  end_ms: 130220\n- text: Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n  start_ms: 130220\n  end_ms: 132100\n- text: Forget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  start_ms: 132100\n  end_ms: 135650\n- text: Empty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\n  start_ms: 135650\n  end_ms: 138120\n- text: Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  start_ms: 138120\n  end_ms: 140830\n- text: How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n  start_ms: 140830\n  end_ms: 143540\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 143540\n  end_ms: 146090\n- text: (It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\n  start_ms: 146090\n  end_ms: 148540\n- text: How high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\n  start_ms: 148540\n  end_ms: 151090\n- text: How sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\n  start_ms: 151090\n  end_ms: 153840\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 153840\n  end_ms: 156540\n- text: Recognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  start_ms: 156540\n  end_ms: 159190\n- text: (How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 159190\n  end_ms: 161690\n- text: (How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 161690\n  end_ms: 164050\n- text: '''Til my man Raider Ruckus come home'\n  start_ms: 164050\n  end_ms: 166440\n- text: It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\n  start_ms: 166440\n  end_ms: 168910\n- text: Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  start_ms: 168910\n  end_ms: 171640\n- text: We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n  start_ms: 171640\n  end_ms: 174370\n- text: Check it\n  start_ms: 174370\n  end_ms: 175250\n- text: I brings havoc with my hectic\n  start_ms: 175250\n  end_ms: 176850\n- text: Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  start_ms: 176850\n  end_ms: 179410\n- text: Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  start_ms: 179410\n  end_ms: 181860\n- text: Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  start_ms: 181860\n  end_ms: 185200\n- text: Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  start_ms: 185200\n  end_ms: 188600\n- text: Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n  start_ms: 188600\n  end_ms: 190470\n- text: Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n  start_ms: 190470\n  end_ms: 193190\n- text: You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n  start_ms: 193190\n  end_ms: 195870\n- text: As I run a mile with a racist\n  start_ms: 195870\n  end_ms: 197920\n- text: My style was born in the pissy staircases\n  start_ms: 197920\n  end_ms: 200520\n- text: Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  start_ms: 200520\n  end_ms: 202880\n- text: He talk about it while I live it\n  start_ms: 202880\n  end_ms: 204470\n- text: If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n  start_ms: 204470\n  end_ms: 206440\n- text: Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  start_ms: 206440\n  end_ms: 209370\n- text: Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n  start_ms: 209370\n  end_ms: 212420\n- text: I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  start_ms: 212420\n  end_ms: 214770\n- text: Rollin' blunts' an all-day habit\n  start_ms: 214770\n  end_ms: 216880\n- text: I get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\n  start_ms: 216880\n  end_ms: 219570\n- text: Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n  start_ms: 219570\n  end_ms: 222060\n- text: The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  start_ms: 222060\n  end_ms: 224940\n- text: Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n  start_ms: 224940\n  end_ms: 227550\n- text: Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  start_ms: 227550\n  end_ms: 230000\n- text: Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n  start_ms: 230000\n  end_ms: 233380\n- text: Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n  start_ms: 233380\n  end_ms: 235350\n- text: Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  start_ms: 235350\n  end_ms: 238290\n- text: I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n  start_ms: 238290\n  end_ms: 241130\n- text: Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n  start_ms: 241130\n  end_ms: 243890\n- text: Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  start_ms: 243890\n  end_ms: 245610\n- text: That like to spit and read Mad magazines\n  start_ms: 245610\n  end_ms: 248260\n- text: I fly more heads than Continental\n  start_ms: 248260\n  end_ms: 250450\n- text: Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  start_ms: 250450\n  end_ms: 253770\n- text: Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n  start_ms: 253770\n  end_ms: 256120\n- text: But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  start_ms: 256120\n  end_ms: 258850\n- text: I breaks 'em off proper\n  start_ms: 258850\n  end_ms: 260240\n- text: Ask Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\n  start_ms: 260240\n  end_ms: 261820\n- text: Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n  start_ms: 261820\n  end_ms: 264240\n- text: Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  start_ms: 264240\n  end_ms: 265900\n- text: To make your mind tickle\n  start_ms: 265900\n  end_ms: 267100\n- text: For the nine nickle\n  start_ms: 267100\n  end_ms: 268610\n- text: Yo Red, yo Red\n  start_ms: 268610\n  end_ms: 269720\n- text: Punk ass, pussy ass\n  start_ms: 269720\n  end_ms: 272040\n- text: We ain't gotta show you no more, man\n  start_ms: 272040\n  end_ms: 275600\n- text: We out\n  start_ms: 275600\n  end_ms: 276490\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 276490\nplain: |-\n  Takin' it from the top?\n  (Hell yeah, we taking it from the top)\n  Tippy?\n  All my people (sing it, daddy)\n  Hey, uh\n\n  Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  Ticallion, hmmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your housing projects\n  I represent yo' Shaolin my nigga\n  Hell yes, apocalypse now, the gun blaow\n  It be goin' down, diggy diggy down, diggy down down\n\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigger finger, all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n  Raw to the floor, raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam bitch\n  Plus, the Bombazee got me wide...\n  (Fuckin' with us) is a straight suicide\n\n  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n  Three, two, murder one lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  Fucker, we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical, that stays open like an all-night store\n  For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existence, M-E-T\n  Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\n  I's be the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  The Egyptian musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I don't stop 'til I get enough\n  Yo' shit broke down, light your flair\n  This the dark side tears into Hollywood Squares\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n\n  The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the wrath\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  Ayo my man (Tical) hear me now\n  Bitches used to play me, now they can't forget me now\n  Forget me not, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  Empty off a lickin' off in hip-hop\n  Fuck the Billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you paid for your Billboard spot?\n\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  (It's the Funk Doctor Spock smokin' buddah on the train)\n  How high? (So high that I can kiss the sky)\n  How sick? (So sick that you can suck my dick)\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  Recognize johnny blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  (How high?) So high that I can kiss the sky\n  (How sick?) So sick that you can suck my dick\n\n  'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  It ain't really on 'til the Ruckus get, home\n  Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  We don't need your dirt weed, we got our fuckin' own\n  Check it\n  I brings havoc with my hectic\n  Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  Home of the drug kingpin and cut throats\n\n  Hey boy, you the rude boy on the block\n  You try to stop the bum rush, you will get popped\n\n  As I run a mile with a racist\n  My style was born in the pissy staircases\n  Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  Enter the center, lyrics bang like Rico-chet Rabbit\n  I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  Rollin' blunts' an all-day habit\n  I get it on like Smif 'n' Wess'; who clique's the best?\n  Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n  The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n\n  Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 bit-ches\n  Hitting snitches, twisting wigs with\n  Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  I dig up in your planets like Diga-boo\n  Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n  Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  That like to spit and read Mad magazines\n\n  I fly more heads than Continental\n  Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  Look I'm not a halfway crook with bad looks\n  But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  I breaks 'em off proper\n  Ask Biggie Smalls, \"Who Shot Ya?\"\n  Funk Doctor with the 12-gauge Mossberg\n  Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  To make your mind tickle\n  For the nine nickle\n\n  Yo Red, yo Red\n  Punk ass, pussy ass\n  We ain't gotta show you no more, man\n  We out\n"},{"id":26139595,"name":"How High","trackName":"How High","artistName":"Redman, Method Man","albumName":"How High","duration":280.842449,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Excuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture\nStalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your housing projects\nI represent yo Shaolin my nigga\nNow yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\nIt be going down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck\nCause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\nRaw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more Fruitier Loops than that Toucan Sam bitch\nPlus the Bombazee got me wide\n\nFucking with us\n\nIs a straight suicide\n\n10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n3, 2, murder 1 lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreaking all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mines to get yours\nFucka we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical I stays open like an all night store\nFor real I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existence, M-E-T\nAin't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\nI bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\nThe Egyptian Musk used to have me pull mad sluts\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough\nYour shit broke down, light your flare\nSince the darkside tears you into Hollywood Squares\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it six million and one with your eyes closed\nThe blindfold cold, so you can feel the wrath\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your monkey-ass\nAnd yo my man (Tical) hit me now\nBitches used to play me now they can't forget me now\nThey get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock\nEmpty off a licking off a hip-hop\nFuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you payed for your billboard spot\n\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nIt's the Funk Doctor Spot smoking buddha on a train\nHOW HIGH So high that I can kiss the sky\nHOW SICK So sick that you can suck my dick\nLook up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\nRecognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\nHOW HIGH So High that I can kiss the sky\nHOW SICK So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\nTill my man Raider Ruckus come home\nIt ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home\nPuff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\nWe don't need your dirt weed we got our fucking own\nCheck it I brings havoc with my hectic\nBring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\nMoving on your left kid, and I'm Method\nOut my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\nHailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\nHome of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n\nAs I run a mile with a racist\nMy style was born in the pissy stair cases\nDig it, eff a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\nEnter the center, lyrics bang like ricochet rabbit\nI brings havoc with an A-K matic, rolling blunts an all day habit\nI get it on like Smif'n'Wes who clicks the best\nPunks take a sip and test, who split your vest\nThe funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama just off stamina\nStyles not to be fucked with or played with\nFuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 Bit-ches\nHitting switches, twisting wigs with\nFat radical mathematical type scriptures\nI dig up in your planets like Digga -- boo\nScared you, blew you to smitha-reens\nFuck the Marines, I got machines\nThat like to spit and read Mad Magazine\nI fly more heads than Continental\nWreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\nLook I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\nBut I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\nI breaks em up proper\nAsk Biggie Smalls Who Shot Ya\nFunk doctor, with the twelve Gauge Mossberg\nLook I got the tools like Rickle\nTo make your mind tickle\nFor the nine nickle","syncedLyrics":"[00:28.46] Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n[00:31.76] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye\n[00:36.24] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n[00:37.28] Stalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm\n[00:37.65] Blacker than your blackest stallion\n[00:40.89] Hit your housing projects\n[00:42.22] I represent yo Shaolin my nigga\n[00:43.95] Now yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n[00:46.59] It be going down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n[00:49.06] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n[00:51.43] When I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck\n[00:53.93] Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n[00:56.18] Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n[00:58.96] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n[01:01.65] With more Fruitier Loops than that Toucan Sam bitch\n[01:04.07] Plus the Bombazee got me wide\n[01:07.12] Fucking with us\n[01:07.92] Is a straight suicide\n[01:09.41] 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n[01:12.04] 3, 2, murder 1 lyric at your door\n[01:14.46] Tical bring it to that ass raw\n[01:16.73] Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n[01:18.52] Nigga, you got to get mines to get yours\n[01:20.84] Fucka we don't need no rap tour\n[01:23.01] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n[01:25.68] More than you bargained for\n[01:27.53] Tical I stays open like an all night store\n[01:29.83] For real I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n[01:32.73] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n[01:35.38] And end your existence, M-E-T\n[01:38.16] Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n[01:40.80] I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n[01:43.15] The Egyptian Musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n[01:45.89] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n[01:48.18] Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough\n[01:51.18] Your shit broke down, light your flare\n[01:53.28] Since the darkside tears you into Hollywood Squares\n[01:56.50] Six million ways to die, so I chose\n[01:59.14] Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n[02:01.57] The blindfold cold, so you can feel the wrath\n[02:04.36] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey-ass\n[02:07.16] And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n[02:09.62] Bitches used to play me now they can't forget me now\n[02:12.05] They get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock\n[02:14.82] Empty off a licking off a hip-hop\n[02:17.18] Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n[02:20.12] How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot\n[02:22.66] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:25.28] It's the Funk Doctor Spot smoking buddha on a train\n[02:27.94] HOW HIGH So high that I can kiss the sky\n[02:30.40] HOW SICK So sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:33.26] Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n[02:35.96] Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n[02:38.21] HOW HIGH So High that I can kiss the sky\n[02:40.99] HOW SICK So Sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:44.07] Till my man Raider Ruckus come home\n[02:45.69] It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home\n[02:48.51] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n[02:51.01] We don't need your dirt weed we got our fucking own\n[02:53.53] Check it I brings havoc with my hectic\n[02:56.20] Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n[02:58.77] Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n[03:00.72] Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n[03:04.23] Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n[03:07.75] Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n[03:10.21] As I run a mile with a racist\n[03:13.12] My style was born in the pissy stair cases\n[03:20.14] Dig it, eff a rap critic\n[03:22.00] He talk about it while I live it\n[03:23.64] If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n[03:26.43] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n[03:28.57] Enter the center, lyrics bang like ricochet rabbit\n[03:30.61] I brings havoc with an A-K matic, rolling blunts an all day habit\n[03:34.23] I get it on like Smif'n'Wes who clicks the best\n[03:38.72] Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n[03:41.54] The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n[03:44.02] Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n[03:47.15] Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n[03:49.59] Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 Bit-ches\n[03:52.01] Hitting switches, twisting wigs with\n[03:54.88] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n[03:57.08] I dig up in your planets like Digga -- boo\n[04:00.76] Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n[04:03.04] Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n[04:04.89] That like to spit and read Mad Magazine\n[04:07.55] I fly more heads than Continental\n[04:09.61] Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n[04:12.40] Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n[04:15.16] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n[04:18.13] I breaks em up proper\n[04:19.82] Ask Biggie Smalls Who Shot Ya\n[04:21.64] Funk doctor, with the twelve Gauge Mossberg\n[04:23.68] Look I got the tools like Rickle\n[04:25.65] To make your mind tickle\n[04:27.59] For the nine nickle\n[04:28.44] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High\n  artist: Redman, Method Man\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 280842\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 28460\n  end_ms: 31760\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye\n  start_ms: 31760\n  end_ms: 36240\n- text: Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  start_ms: 36240\n  end_ms: 37280\n- text: Stalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm\n  start_ms: 37280\n  end_ms: 37650\n- text: Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  start_ms: 37650\n  end_ms: 40890\n- text: Hit your housing projects\n  start_ms: 40890\n  end_ms: 42220\n- text: I represent yo Shaolin my nigga\n  start_ms: 42220\n  end_ms: 43950\n- text: Now yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  start_ms: 43950\n  end_ms: 46590\n- text: It be going down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n  start_ms: 46590\n  end_ms: 49060\n- text: While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  start_ms: 49060\n  end_ms: 51430\n- text: When I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  start_ms: 51430\n  end_ms: 53930\n- text: Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n  start_ms: 53930\n  end_ms: 56180\n- text: Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  start_ms: 56180\n  end_ms: 58960\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  start_ms: 58960\n  end_ms: 61650\n- text: With more Fruitier Loops than that Toucan Sam bitch\n  start_ms: 61650\n  end_ms: 64070\n- text: Plus the Bombazee got me wide\n  start_ms: 64070\n  end_ms: 67120\n- text: Fucking with us\n  start_ms: 67120\n  end_ms: 67920\n- text: Is a straight suicide\n  start_ms: 67920\n  end_ms: 69410\n- text: 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n  start_ms: 69410\n  end_ms: 72040\n- text: 3, 2, murder 1 lyric at your door\n  start_ms: 72040\n  end_ms: 74460\n- text: Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  start_ms: 74460\n  end_ms: 76730\n- text: Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n  start_ms: 76730\n  end_ms: 78520\n- text: Nigga, you got to get mines to get yours\n  start_ms: 78520\n  end_ms: 80840\n- text: Fucka we don't need no rap tour\n  start_ms: 80840\n  end_ms: 83010\n- text: I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  start_ms: 83010\n  end_ms: 85680\n- text: More than you bargained for\n  start_ms: 85680\n  end_ms: 87530\n- text: Tical I stays open like an all night store\n  start_ms: 87530\n  end_ms: 89830\n- text: For real I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  start_ms: 89830\n  end_ms: 92730\n- text: Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  start_ms: 92730\n  end_ms: 95380\n- text: And end your existence, M-E-T\n  start_ms: 95380\n  end_ms: 98160\n- text: Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n  start_ms: 98160\n  end_ms: 100800\n- text: I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  start_ms: 100800\n  end_ms: 103150\n- text: The Egyptian Musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n  start_ms: 103150\n  end_ms: 105890\n- text: I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  start_ms: 105890\n  end_ms: 108180\n- text: Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough\n  start_ms: 108180\n  end_ms: 111180\n- text: Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  start_ms: 111180\n  end_ms: 113280\n- text: Since the darkside tears you into Hollywood Squares\n  start_ms: 113280\n  end_ms: 116500\n- text: Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  start_ms: 116500\n  end_ms: 119140\n- text: Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n  start_ms: 119140\n  end_ms: 121570\n- text: The blindfold cold, so you can feel the wrath\n  start_ms: 121570\n  end_ms: 124360\n- text: And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey-ass\n  start_ms: 124360\n  end_ms: 127160\n- text: And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  start_ms: 127160\n  end_ms: 129620\n- text: Bitches used to play me now they can't forget me now\n  start_ms: 129620\n  end_ms: 132050\n- text: They get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  start_ms: 132050\n  end_ms: 134820\n- text: Empty off a licking off a hip-hop\n  start_ms: 134820\n  end_ms: 137180\n- text: Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  start_ms: 137180\n  end_ms: 140120\n- text: How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot\n  start_ms: 140120\n  end_ms: 142660\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 142660\n  end_ms: 145280\n- text: It's the Funk Doctor Spot smoking buddha on a train\n  start_ms: 145280\n  end_ms: 147940\n- text: HOW HIGH So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 147940\n  end_ms: 150400\n- text: HOW SICK So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 150400\n  end_ms: 153260\n- text: Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  start_ms: 153260\n  end_ms: 155960\n- text: Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  start_ms: 155960\n  end_ms: 158210\n- text: HOW HIGH So High that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 158210\n  end_ms: 160990\n- text: HOW SICK So Sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 160990\n  end_ms: 164070\n- text: Till my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  start_ms: 164070\n  end_ms: 165690\n- text: It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home\n  start_ms: 165690\n  end_ms: 168510\n- text: Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  start_ms: 168510\n  end_ms: 171010\n- text: We don't need your dirt weed we got our fucking own\n  start_ms: 171010\n  end_ms: 173530\n- text: Check it I brings havoc with my hectic\n  start_ms: 173530\n  end_ms: 176200\n- text: Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  start_ms: 176200\n  end_ms: 178770\n- text: Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  start_ms: 178770\n  end_ms: 180720\n- text: Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  start_ms: 180720\n  end_ms: 184230\n- text: Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  start_ms: 184230\n  end_ms: 187750\n- text: Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  start_ms: 187750\n  end_ms: 190210\n- text: As I run a mile with a racist\n  start_ms: 190210\n  end_ms: 193120\n- text: My style was born in the pissy stair cases\n  start_ms: 193120\n  end_ms: 200140\n- text: Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  start_ms: 200140\n  end_ms: 202000\n- text: He talk about it while I live it\n  start_ms: 202000\n  end_ms: 203640\n- text: If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n  start_ms: 203640\n  end_ms: 206430\n- text: Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  start_ms: 206430\n  end_ms: 208570\n- text: Enter the center, lyrics bang like ricochet rabbit\n  start_ms: 208570\n  end_ms: 210610\n- text: I brings havoc with an A-K matic, rolling blunts an all day habit\n  start_ms: 210610\n  end_ms: 214230\n- text: I get it on like Smif'n'Wes who clicks the best\n  start_ms: 214230\n  end_ms: 218720\n- text: Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n  start_ms: 218720\n  end_ms: 221540\n- text: The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  start_ms: 221540\n  end_ms: 224020\n- text: Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n  start_ms: 224020\n  end_ms: 227150\n- text: Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  start_ms: 227150\n  end_ms: 229590\n- text: Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 Bit-ches\n  start_ms: 229590\n  end_ms: 232010\n- text: Hitting switches, twisting wigs with\n  start_ms: 232010\n  end_ms: 234880\n- text: Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  start_ms: 234880\n  end_ms: 237080\n- text: I dig up in your planets like Digga -- boo\n  start_ms: 237080\n  end_ms: 240760\n- text: Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n  start_ms: 240760\n  end_ms: 243040\n- text: Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  start_ms: 243040\n  end_ms: 244890\n- text: That like to spit and read Mad Magazine\n  start_ms: 244890\n  end_ms: 247550\n- text: I fly more heads than Continental\n  start_ms: 247550\n  end_ms: 249610\n- text: Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  start_ms: 249610\n  end_ms: 252400\n- text: Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  start_ms: 252400\n  end_ms: 255160\n- text: But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  start_ms: 255160\n  end_ms: 258130\n- text: I breaks em up proper\n  start_ms: 258130\n  end_ms: 259820\n- text: Ask Biggie Smalls Who Shot Ya\n  start_ms: 259820\n  end_ms: 261640\n- text: Funk doctor, with the twelve Gauge Mossberg\n  start_ms: 261640\n  end_ms: 263680\n- text: Look I got the tools like Rickle\n  start_ms: 263680\n  end_ms: 265650\n- text: To make your mind tickle\n  start_ms: 265650\n  end_ms: 267590\n- text: For the nine nickle\n  start_ms: 267590\n  end_ms: 268440\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 268440\nplain: |-\n  Excuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture, Ticalion, hmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your housing projects\n  I represent yo Shaolin my nigga\n  Now yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  It be going down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigger finger all y'all niggas hit the deck\n  Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcore\n  Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more Fruitier Loops than that Toucan Sam bitch\n  Plus the Bombazee got me wide\n\n  Fucking with us\n\n  Is a straight suicide\n\n  10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4\n  3, 2, murder 1 lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breaking all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mines to get yours\n  Fucka we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical I stays open like an all night store\n  For real I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existence, M-E-T\n  Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\n  I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  The Egyptian Musk used to have me pull mad sluts\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough\n  Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  Since the darkside tears you into Hollywood Squares\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it six million and one with your eyes closed\n  The blindfold cold, so you can feel the wrath\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey-ass\n  And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  Bitches used to play me now they can't forget me now\n  They get me mad, I rock the spot, check Glock\n  Empty off a licking off a hip-hop\n  Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot\n\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  It's the Funk Doctor Spot smoking buddha on a train\n  HOW HIGH So high that I can kiss the sky\n  HOW SICK So sick that you can suck my dick\n  Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  Recognize Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  HOW HIGH So High that I can kiss the sky\n  HOW SICK So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\n  Till my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home\n  Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  We don't need your dirt weed we got our fucking own\n  Check it I brings havoc with my hectic\n  Bring the Pain lyrics screaming for the antiseptic\n  Moving on your left kid, and I'm Method\n  Out my fucking dome piece, plus I got no love for the beast\n  Hailing from the big East Coast, where niggas pack toast\n  Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n\n  As I run a mile with a racist\n  My style was born in the pissy stair cases\n  Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it\n\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and Glocks in ya\n  Enter the center, lyrics bang like ricochet rabbit\n  I brings havoc with an A-K matic, rolling blunts an all day habit\n  I get it on like Smif'n'Wes who clicks the best\n  Punks take a sip and test, who split your vest\n  The funk phenomenon, I'm bombing you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama just off stamina\n  Styles not to be fucked with or played with\n  Fuck them pretty hoes, I love those Section 8 Bit-ches\n  Hitting switches, twisting wigs with\n  Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  I dig up in your planets like Digga -- boo\n  Scared you, blew you to smitha-reens\n  Fuck the Marines, I got machines\n  That like to spit and read Mad Magazine\n  I fly more heads than Continental\n  Wreck ya five times like U.S. Air off an instrumental\n  Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  I breaks em up proper\n  Ask Biggie Smalls Who Shot Ya\n  Funk doctor, with the twelve Gauge Mossberg\n  Look I got the tools like Rickle\n  To make your mind tickle\n  For the nine nickle\n"},{"id":38219124,"name":"Cisco Kid ft. Cypress Hill/Method Man and Redman - How High Soundtrack","trackName":"Cisco Kid ft. Cypress Hill/Method Man and Redman - How High Soundtrack","artistName":"Method Man and Redman","albumName":"How High Soundtrack","duration":240.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"(We're gonna make you high)\n(We're gonna... High)\n(We're gonna make you high)\n(We're gonna make you high)\n(Let's get high, let's get high)\nI flow rhymes up just like weed in yo chest\nThink you gonna win don't hold yo breath\nSpittin' on the track with Red 'n Meth\nHoldin up a fat one, when you smoke a cassette\nOr CDs, we be the ones with the Ouija's\nSpread it on the arm, come on believe me\nLook who it is, it's the funky feel\nSmokin assassin from Cypress Hill\nWe think she's just resonated?\nFillin my brain till it's saturated\nWhen you get the kush weed and cultivate it\nGive it to the hoes who love to hate it\nCause blunts get filled like Hershey Highways\nI don't give a fuck who sits where I blaze\nChillin at the rainbow high and faded\nYou saving that bump(??), then isolate it\n\nIs there a Doctor in the house?\nWe like fuck that, nut sacks in your mouth\nLemme show you what a thunk about\nWe can talk or we can slug it out\nBetter yet, you can bark like a bitch when I dug it out\nThere it is, a better a kid, ahead of his\nTime to settle this, like men\nI'm pipin hot, exciting\nRight in the gym or hype in them, alright then\nAll day got drink and smoke\nShell toe with ankles sink ya boat\nCent, five cents, ten cents, dollar\nRocwilder blend the track again holler\nAdd your boy, now pass your boy something to smoke\nCause you have had nothing to throat, swallow\nBang the track, bring your bat\nAin't too many that can hang with that\nSo why bother\n\nCisco Kid was a friend of mine\nHell yea\nCisco Kid was a friend of mine\nHell yea\nHe drank whiskey, Pancho drank the wine\nHell yea\nHe drank whiskey, Pancho drank the wine\nHell yea\n\nSen Dawg and fall back\nFin to who ride on this track\nI don't really give a fuck\nPut the pen down lets toss them up\nSoul assasins, Latin thugs\nWhole damn world know bout us\nRhymes we kick and weed we puff\nGet tus vatos all fucked up\nAnd sing along to my get high song\nHad you choking off of four foot bong\nCypress Hill and weed, can't go wrong\nKeep you smoking like Cheech and Chong\n\nYo, call me that Doctor\nP-Funk or chronic blower\nPussy smoker, strap toker, back broker\nHash burns in your pull out sofa\nThis is my brain on drugs\nMove out my way cuz, cause I might run you over\nBitches bounce your titties\nI bounce with a pump shotgun (show over)\nLook out, the highest man in the world\nWalkin off with my hand on your girl\nCan't drink and can't stand when I earl\nNiggas, two puffs and then pass me the L\nWhat you talking about I'm not high enough to start that party\nTriple beater enter the stage with a gauge\nDon't shoot nobody\nWhat you ain't high enough?\nDo I gotta jump out there and tie you up?\nStrap a bomb to your mouth\nTill you wired up\nTill the Park Ranger call the Firetruck\nAnd said \"Hey motherfucker, what you be smoking on?\"\nI said ya punk motherfucker, why do you want some?\n(Yo, yo) Give me the gun, we don't need to fight\nHold that blunt, I'll give you a light\nDon't no nigga want to die tonight\nWith all this weed, get high tonight. BITCH!\n\nCisco Kid was a friend of mine\nHell yea\nCisco Kid was a friend of mine\nHell yea\nHe drank whiskey, Pancho drank the wine\nHell yea\nHe drank whiskey, Pancho drank the wine\nHell yea","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Cisco Kid ft. Cypress Hill/Method Man and Redman - How High Soundtrack\n  artist: Method Man and Redman\n  album: How High Soundtrack\n  duration_ms: 240000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  (We're gonna make you high)\n  (We're gonna... High)\n  (We're gonna make you high)\n  (We're gonna make you high)\n  (Let's get high, let's get high)\n  I flow rhymes up just like weed in yo chest\n  Think you gonna win don't hold yo breath\n  Spittin' on the track with Red 'n Meth\n  Holdin up a fat one, when you smoke a cassette\n  Or CDs, we be the ones with the Ouija's\n  Spread it on the arm, come on believe me\n  Look who it is, it's the funky feel\n  Smokin assassin from Cypress Hill\n  We think she's just resonated?\n  Fillin my brain till it's saturated\n  When you get the kush weed and cultivate it\n  Give it to the hoes who love to hate it\n  Cause blunts get filled like Hershey Highways\n  I don't give a fuck who sits where I blaze\n  Chillin at the rainbow high and faded\n  You saving that bump(??), then isolate it\n\n  Is there a Doctor in the house?\n  We like fuck that, nut sacks in your mouth\n  Lemme show you what a thunk about\n  We can talk or we can slug it out\n  Better yet, you can bark like a bitch when I dug it out\n  There it is, a better a kid, ahead of his\n  Time to settle this, like men\n  I'm pipin hot, exciting\n  Right in the gym or hype in them, alright then\n  All day got drink and smoke\n  Shell toe with ankles sink ya boat\n  Cent, five cents, ten cents, dollar\n  Rocwilder blend the track again holler\n  Add your boy, now pass your boy something to smoke\n  Cause you have had nothing to throat, swallow\n  Bang the track, bring your bat\n  Ain't too many that can hang with that\n  So why bother\n\n  Cisco Kid was a friend of mine\n  Hell yea\n  Cisco Kid was a friend of mine\n  Hell yea\n  He drank whiskey, Pancho drank the wine\n  Hell yea\n  He drank whiskey, Pancho drank the wine\n  Hell yea\n\n  Sen Dawg and fall back\n  Fin to who ride on this track\n  I don't really give a fuck\n  Put the pen down lets toss them up\n  Soul assasins, Latin thugs\n  Whole damn world know bout us\n  Rhymes we kick and weed we puff\n  Get tus vatos all fucked up\n  And sing along to my get high song\n  Had you choking off of four foot bong\n  Cypress Hill and weed, can't go wrong\n  Keep you smoking like Cheech and Chong\n\n  Yo, call me that Doctor\n  P-Funk or chronic blower\n  Pussy smoker, strap toker, back broker\n  Hash burns in your pull out sofa\n  This is my brain on drugs\n  Move out my way cuz, cause I might run you over\n  Bitches bounce your titties\n  I bounce with a pump shotgun (show over)\n  Look out, the highest man in the world\n  Walkin off with my hand on your girl\n  Can't drink and can't stand when I earl\n  Niggas, two puffs and then pass me the L\n  What you talking about I'm not high enough to start that party\n  Triple beater enter the stage with a gauge\n  Don't shoot nobody\n  What you ain't high enough?\n  Do I gotta jump out there and tie you up?\n  Strap a bomb to your mouth\n  Till you wired up\n  Till the Park Ranger call the Firetruck\n  And said \"Hey motherfucker, what you be smoking on?\"\n  I said ya punk motherfucker, why do you want some?\n  (Yo, yo) Give me the gun, we don't need to fight\n  Hold that blunt, I'll give you a light\n  Don't no nigga want to die tonight\n  With all this weed, get high tonight. BITCH!\n\n  Cisco Kid was a friend of mine\n  Hell yea\n  Cisco Kid was a friend of mine\n  Hell yea\n  He drank whiskey, Pancho drank the wine\n  Hell yea\n  He drank whiskey, Pancho drank the wine\n  Hell yea\n"},{"id":29696592,"name":"How High (remix)","trackName":"How High (remix)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"How High","duration":240.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Takin it from the top?\nTippy? Tippy?\n\nHow High?...\nThe Ultimate High...\n\n'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture\nStalk the dead body like a vulture\nTical get, hmmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your house'n projects\nI represent the Shaolin my nigga\nHell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\nIt be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\nCause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\nRaw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\nPlus, the Bombazee got me wild\n(Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n\nThree two Murder one lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreakin all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mine to get yours\nFucka, we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical, that stays open like an all nite store\nFor real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existance, M-E-T\nAint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\nI bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\nThe Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\nYour shit broke down, light your flare\nSince the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\nThe blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\nAnd yo my man (Tical) hit me now\nBitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\nForget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\nEmpty off a lickin off a hip hop\nFuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nIt's the funk doctor spock\nSmokin buddha on a train\nHow high? So high that I can kiss the sky\nHow sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\nLook up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\nRecognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\nHow high? So High that I can kiss the sky\nHow sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\nTil my man Raider Ruckus come home\nIt ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\nPuff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\nWe don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\nCheck it, I brings havoc with my hectic\nBring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\nMovin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\nPlus I got no love for the beast\nHailin from the big East Coast\nWhere niggaz pack toast\nHome of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\nYou try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\nAs I run around with a racist\nMy style was born in the 50 stair cases\nDig it, eff a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\nEnter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\nRabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\nRollin' blunts an all day habit\nI get it on like Smiff and Wess\nWho clicks the best\nPunks take a sip and test\nWho split your vest\nThe funk phenomenon\nI'm bombin you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama\nJust off stamina\nStyles not to be fucked with, or played with\nFuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\nHittin switches, Twistin wigs with\nFat radical mathematical type scriptures\nI dig up in your planets like Diga,\nBoo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\nFuck the marines, I got machines\nTo light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\nI fly more heads than Continental\nWreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\nLook I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\nBut I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\nI breaks em up proppa\nAsk Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\nFunk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\nLook, I got the tools like Rickle\nTo make your mind tickle\nFor the nine nickle\n(Yo Red, yo Red!)\nPunk ass pussy ass\n(You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.05] Takin it from the top?\n[00:03.98] Tippy? Tippy?\n[00:20.63] How High?...\n[00:21.69] The Ultimate High...\n[00:27.95] 'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\n[00:30.86] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n[00:33.21] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n[00:35.58] Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n[00:37.17] Tical get, hmmm\n[00:38.79] Blacker than your blackest stallion\n[00:40.51] Hit your house'n projects\n[00:42.10] I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n[00:43.92] Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n[00:46.39] It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n[00:48.76] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n[00:51.22] When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n[00:54.43] Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n[00:56.75] Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n[00:59.60] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n[01:02.01] With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n[01:04.84] Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n[01:07.70] (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n[01:12.64] Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n[01:15.22] Tical bring it to that ass raw\n[01:17.37] Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n[01:19.41] Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n[01:21.73] Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n[01:24.02] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n[01:26.43] More than you bargained for\n[01:28.51] Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n[01:30.64] For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n[01:33.48] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n[01:36.30] And end your existance, M-E-T\n[01:38.78] Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n[01:41.08] I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n[01:44.15] The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n[01:46.54] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n[01:48.59] Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n[01:51.94] Your shit broke down, light your flare\n[01:53.81] Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n[01:57.29] Six million ways to die, so I chose\n[01:59.85] Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n[02:02.72] The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n[02:05.02] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n[02:07.84] And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n[02:10.58] Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n[02:12.84] Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n[02:15.49] Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n[02:18.04] Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n[02:20.95] How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n[02:23.79] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:25.69] It's the funk doctor spock\n[02:26.96] Smokin buddha on a train\n[02:28.74] How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n[02:31.01] How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:34.23] Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n[02:36.26] Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n[02:39.15] How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n[02:41.75] How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:43.80] Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n[02:46.16] It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n[02:49.00] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n[02:51.99] We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n[02:54.56] Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n[02:56.88] Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n[02:59.47] Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n[03:03.72] Plus I got no love for the beast\n[03:05.42] Hailin from the big East Coast\n[03:07.27] Where niggaz pack toast\n[03:08.86] Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n[03:10.64] (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n[03:13.26] You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n[03:15.91] As I run around with a racist\n[03:17.96] My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n[03:20.88] Dig it, eff a rap critic\n[03:22.66] He talk about it while I live it\n[03:24.45] If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n[03:26.83] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n[03:29.64] Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n[03:32.00] Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n[03:34.68] Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n[03:36.74] I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n[03:38.39] Who clicks the best\n[03:39.63] Punks take a sip and test\n[03:40.98] Who split your vest\n[03:41.91] The funk phenomenon\n[03:43.56] I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n[03:44.65] Blow canals of Panama\n[03:46.16] Just off stamina\n[03:47.42] Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n[03:50.05] Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n[03:53.23] Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n[03:55.22] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n[03:58.14] I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n[04:00.20] Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n[04:03.50] Fuck the marines, I got machines\n[04:05.41] To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n[04:08.22] I fly more heads than Continental\n[04:10.33] Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n[04:13.59] Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n[04:16.19] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n[04:18.67] I breaks em up proppa\n[04:20.35] Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n[04:21.81] Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n[04:24.23] Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n[04:26.04] To make your mind tickle\n[04:27.06] For the nine nickle\n[04:28.69] (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n[04:29.79] Punk ass pussy ass\n[04:32.50] (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n[04:40.79] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High (remix)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 240000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Takin it from the top?\n  start_ms: 2050\n  end_ms: 3980\n- text: Tippy? Tippy?\n  start_ms: 3980\n  end_ms: 20630\n- text: How High?...\n  start_ms: 20630\n  end_ms: 21690\n- text: The Ultimate High...\n  start_ms: 21690\n  end_ms: 27950\n- text: '''Scuse me as I kiss the sky'\n  start_ms: 27950\n  end_ms: 30860\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  start_ms: 30860\n  end_ms: 33210\n- text: Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  start_ms: 33210\n  end_ms: 35580\n- text: Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  start_ms: 35580\n  end_ms: 37170\n- text: Tical get, hmmm\n  start_ms: 37170\n  end_ms: 38790\n- text: Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  start_ms: 38790\n  end_ms: 40510\n- text: Hit your house'n projects\n  start_ms: 40510\n  end_ms: 42100\n- text: I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n  start_ms: 42100\n  end_ms: 43920\n- text: Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  start_ms: 43920\n  end_ms: 46390\n- text: It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n  start_ms: 46390\n  end_ms: 48760\n- text: While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  start_ms: 48760\n  end_ms: 51220\n- text: When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n  start_ms: 51220\n  end_ms: 54430\n- text: Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n  start_ms: 54430\n  end_ms: 56750\n- text: Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  start_ms: 56750\n  end_ms: 59600\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  start_ms: 59600\n  end_ms: 62010\n- text: With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n  start_ms: 62010\n  end_ms: 64840\n- text: Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n  start_ms: 64840\n  end_ms: 67700\n- text: (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n  start_ms: 67700\n  end_ms: 72640\n- text: Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n  start_ms: 72640\n  end_ms: 75220\n- text: Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  start_ms: 75220\n  end_ms: 77370\n- text: Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n  start_ms: 77370\n  end_ms: 79410\n- text: Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  start_ms: 79410\n  end_ms: 81730\n- text: Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n  start_ms: 81730\n  end_ms: 84020\n- text: I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  start_ms: 84020\n  end_ms: 86430\n- text: More than you bargained for\n  start_ms: 86430\n  end_ms: 88510\n- text: Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n  start_ms: 88510\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93480\n- text: Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  start_ms: 93480\n  end_ms: 96300\n- text: And end your existance, M-E-T\n  start_ms: 96300\n  end_ms: 98780\n- text: Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n  start_ms: 98780\n  end_ms: 101080\n- text: I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  start_ms: 101080\n  end_ms: 104150\n- text: The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n  start_ms: 104150\n  end_ms: 106540\n- text: I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  start_ms: 106540\n  end_ms: 108590\n- text: Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n  start_ms: 108590\n  end_ms: 111940\n- text: Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  start_ms: 111940\n  end_ms: 113810\n- text: Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n  start_ms: 113810\n  end_ms: 117290\n- text: Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  start_ms: 117290\n  end_ms: 119850\n- text: Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n  start_ms: 119850\n  end_ms: 122720\n- text: The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n  start_ms: 122720\n  end_ms: 125020\n- text: And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  start_ms: 125020\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 130580\n- text: Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n  start_ms: 130580\n  end_ms: 132840\n- text: Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n  start_ms: 132840\n  end_ms: 135490\n- text: Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n  start_ms: 135490\n  end_ms: 138040\n- text: Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  start_ms: 138040\n  end_ms: 140950\n- text: How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n  start_ms: 140950\n  end_ms: 143790\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 143790\n  end_ms: 145690\n- text: It's the funk doctor spock\n  start_ms: 145690\n  end_ms: 146960\n- text: Smokin buddha on a train\n  start_ms: 146960\n  end_ms: 148740\n- text: How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 148740\n  end_ms: 151010\n- text: How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 151010\n  end_ms: 154230\n- text: Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  start_ms: 154230\n  end_ms: 156260\n- text: Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  start_ms: 156260\n  end_ms: 159150\n- text: How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 159150\n  end_ms: 161750\n- text: How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 161750\n  end_ms: 163800\n- text: Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  start_ms: 163800\n  end_ms: 166160\n- text: It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n  start_ms: 166160\n  end_ms: 169000\n- text: Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  start_ms: 169000\n  end_ms: 171990\n- text: We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n  start_ms: 171990\n  end_ms: 174560\n- text: Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n  start_ms: 174560\n  end_ms: 176880\n- text: Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n  start_ms: 176880\n  end_ms: 179470\n- text: Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n  start_ms: 179470\n  end_ms: 183720\n- text: Plus I got no love for the beast\n  start_ms: 183720\n  end_ms: 185420\n- text: Hailin from the big East Coast\n  start_ms: 185420\n  end_ms: 187270\n- text: Where niggaz pack toast\n  start_ms: 187270\n  end_ms: 188860\n- text: Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  start_ms: 188860\n  end_ms: 190640\n- text: (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n  start_ms: 190640\n  end_ms: 193260\n- text: You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n  start_ms: 193260\n  end_ms: 195910\n- text: As I run around with a racist\n  start_ms: 195910\n  end_ms: 197960\n- text: My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n  start_ms: 197960\n  end_ms: 200880\n- text: Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  start_ms: 200880\n  end_ms: 202660\n- text: He talk about it while I live it\n  start_ms: 202660\n  end_ms: 204450\n- text: If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n  start_ms: 204450\n  end_ms: 206830\n- text: Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n  start_ms: 206830\n  end_ms: 209640\n- text: Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n  start_ms: 209640\n  end_ms: 212000\n- text: Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  start_ms: 212000\n  end_ms: 214680\n- text: Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n  start_ms: 214680\n  end_ms: 216740\n- text: I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n  start_ms: 216740\n  end_ms: 218390\n- text: Who clicks the best\n  start_ms: 218390\n  end_ms: 219630\n- text: Punks take a sip and test\n  start_ms: 219630\n  end_ms: 220980\n- text: Who split your vest\n  start_ms: 220980\n  end_ms: 221910\n- text: The funk phenomenon\n  start_ms: 221910\n  end_ms: 223560\n- text: I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n  start_ms: 223560\n  end_ms: 224650\n- text: Blow canals of Panama\n  start_ms: 224650\n  end_ms: 226160\n- text: Just off stamina\n  start_ms: 226160\n  end_ms: 227420\n- text: Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n  start_ms: 227420\n  end_ms: 230050\n- text: Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n  start_ms: 230050\n  end_ms: 233230\n- text: Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n  start_ms: 233230\n  end_ms: 235220\n- text: Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  start_ms: 235220\n  end_ms: 238140\n- text: I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n  start_ms: 238140\n  end_ms: 240200\n- text: Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n  start_ms: 240200\n  end_ms: 243500\n- text: Fuck the marines, I got machines\n  start_ms: 243500\n  end_ms: 245410\n- text: To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n  start_ms: 245410\n  end_ms: 248220\n- text: I fly more heads than Continental\n  start_ms: 248220\n  end_ms: 250330\n- text: Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n  start_ms: 250330\n  end_ms: 253590\n- text: Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  start_ms: 253590\n  end_ms: 256190\n- text: But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  start_ms: 256190\n  end_ms: 258670\n- text: I breaks em up proppa\n  start_ms: 258670\n  end_ms: 260350\n- text: Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n  start_ms: 260350\n  end_ms: 261810\n- text: Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n  start_ms: 261810\n  end_ms: 264230\n- text: Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  start_ms: 264230\n  end_ms: 266040\n- text: To make your mind tickle\n  start_ms: 266040\n  end_ms: 267060\n- text: For the nine nickle\n  start_ms: 267060\n  end_ms: 268690\n- text: (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n  start_ms: 268690\n  end_ms: 269790\n- text: Punk ass pussy ass\n  start_ms: 269790\n  end_ms: 272500\n- text: (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n  start_ms: 272500\n  end_ms: 280790\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 280790\nplain: |-\n  Takin it from the top?\n  Tippy? Tippy?\n\n  How High?...\n  The Ultimate High...\n\n  'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  Tical get, hmmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your house'n projects\n  I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n  Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n  Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n  Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n  Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n  (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n\n  Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n  For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existance, M-E-T\n  Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\n  I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n  Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n  The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n  Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n  Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n  Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  It's the funk doctor spock\n  Smokin buddha on a train\n  How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n  How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\n  Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n  Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n  Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n  Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n  Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n  Plus I got no love for the beast\n  Hailin from the big East Coast\n  Where niggaz pack toast\n  Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n  You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n  As I run around with a racist\n  My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n  Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n  Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n  Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n  I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n  Who clicks the best\n  Punks take a sip and test\n  Who split your vest\n  The funk phenomenon\n  I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama\n  Just off stamina\n  Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n  Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n  Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n  Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n  Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n  Fuck the marines, I got machines\n  To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n  I fly more heads than Continental\n  Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n  Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  I breaks em up proppa\n  Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n  Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n  Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  To make your mind tickle\n  For the nine nickle\n  (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n  Punk ass pussy ass\n  (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n"},{"id":30130016,"name":"How High (Remix)","trackName":"How High (Remix)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"How High","duration":236.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Takin it from the top?\nTippy? Tippy?\n\nHow High?...\nThe Ultimate High...\n\n'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture\nStalk the dead body like a vulture\nTical get, hmmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your house'n projects\nI represent the Shaolin my nigga\nHell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\nIt be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\nCause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\nRaw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\nPlus, the Bombazee got me wild\n(Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n\nThree two Murder one lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreakin all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mine to get yours\nFucka, we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical, that stays open like an all nite store\nFor real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existance, M-E-T\nAint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\nI bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\nThe Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\nYour shit broke down, light your flare\nSince the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\nThe blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\nAnd yo my man (Tical) hit me now\nBitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\nForget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\nEmpty off a lickin off a hip hop\nFuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nIt's the funk doctor spock\nSmokin buddha on a train\nHow high? So high that I can kiss the sky\nHow sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\nLook up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\nRecognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\nHow high? So High that I can kiss the sky\nHow sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\nTil my man Raider Ruckus come home\nIt ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\nPuff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\nWe don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\nCheck it, I brings havoc with my hectic\nBring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\nMovin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\nPlus I got no love for the beast\nHailin from the big East Coast\nWhere niggaz pack toast\nHome of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\nYou try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\nAs I run around with a racist\nMy style was born in the 50 stair cases\nDig it, eff a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\nEnter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\nRabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\nRollin' blunts an all day habit\nI get it on like Smiff and Wess\nWho clicks the best\nPunks take a sip and test\nWho split your vest\nThe funk phenomenon\nI'm bombin you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama\nJust off stamina\nStyles not to be fucked with, or played with\nFuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\nHittin switches, Twistin wigs with\nFat radical mathematical type scriptures\nI dig up in your planets like Diga,\nBoo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\nFuck the marines, I got machines\nTo light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\nI fly more heads than Continental\nWreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\nLook I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\nBut I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\nI breaks em up proppa\nAsk Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\nFunk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\nLook, I got the tools like Rickle\nTo make your mind tickle\nFor the nine nickle\n(Yo Red, yo Red!)\nPunk ass pussy ass\n(You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.05] Takin it from the top?\n[00:03.98] Tippy? Tippy?\n[00:20.63] How High?...\n[00:21.69] The Ultimate High...\n[00:27.95] 'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\n[00:30.86] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n[00:33.21] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n[00:35.58] Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n[00:37.17] Tical get, hmmm\n[00:38.79] Blacker than your blackest stallion\n[00:40.51] Hit your house'n projects\n[00:42.10] I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n[00:43.92] Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n[00:46.39] It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n[00:48.76] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n[00:51.22] When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n[00:54.43] Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n[00:56.75] Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n[00:59.60] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n[01:02.01] With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n[01:04.84] Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n[01:07.70] (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n[01:12.64] Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n[01:15.22] Tical bring it to that ass raw\n[01:17.37] Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n[01:19.41] Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n[01:21.73] Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n[01:24.02] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n[01:26.43] More than you bargained for\n[01:28.51] Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n[01:30.64] For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n[01:33.48] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n[01:36.30] And end your existance, M-E-T\n[01:38.78] Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n[01:41.08] I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n[01:44.15] The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n[01:46.54] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n[01:48.59] Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n[01:51.94] Your shit broke down, light your flare\n[01:53.81] Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n[01:57.29] Six million ways to die, so I chose\n[01:59.85] Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n[02:02.72] The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n[02:05.02] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n[02:07.84] And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n[02:10.58] Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n[02:12.84] Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n[02:15.49] Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n[02:18.04] Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n[02:20.95] How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n[02:23.79] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:25.69] It's the funk doctor spock\n[02:26.96] Smokin buddha on a train\n[02:28.74] How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n[02:31.01] How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:34.23] Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n[02:36.26] Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n[02:39.15] How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n[02:41.75] How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:43.80] Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n[02:46.16] It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n[02:49.00] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n[02:51.99] We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n[02:54.56] Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n[02:56.88] Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n[02:59.47] Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n[03:03.72] Plus I got no love for the beast\n[03:05.42] Hailin from the big East Coast\n[03:07.27] Where niggaz pack toast\n[03:08.86] Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n[03:10.64] (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n[03:13.26] You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n[03:15.91] As I run around with a racist\n[03:17.96] My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n[03:20.88] Dig it, eff a rap critic\n[03:22.66] He talk about it while I live it\n[03:24.45] If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n[03:26.83] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n[03:29.64] Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n[03:32.00] Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n[03:34.68] Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n[03:36.74] I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n[03:38.39] Who clicks the best\n[03:39.63] Punks take a sip and test\n[03:40.98] Who split your vest\n[03:41.91] The funk phenomenon\n[03:43.56] I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n[03:44.65] Blow canals of Panama\n[03:46.16] Just off stamina\n[03:47.42] Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n[03:50.05] Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n[03:53.23] Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n[03:55.22] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n[03:58.14] I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n[04:00.20] Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n[04:03.50] Fuck the marines, I got machines\n[04:05.41] To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n[04:08.22] I fly more heads than Continental\n[04:10.33] Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n[04:13.59] Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n[04:16.19] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n[04:18.67] I breaks em up proppa\n[04:20.35] Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n[04:21.81] Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n[04:24.23] Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n[04:26.04] To make your mind tickle\n[04:27.06] For the nine nickle\n[04:28.69] (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n[04:29.79] Punk ass pussy ass\n[04:32.50] (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n[04:40.79] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High (Remix)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 236000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Takin it from the top?\n  start_ms: 2050\n  end_ms: 3980\n- text: Tippy? Tippy?\n  start_ms: 3980\n  end_ms: 20630\n- text: How High?...\n  start_ms: 20630\n  end_ms: 21690\n- text: The Ultimate High...\n  start_ms: 21690\n  end_ms: 27950\n- text: '''Scuse me as I kiss the sky'\n  start_ms: 27950\n  end_ms: 30860\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  start_ms: 30860\n  end_ms: 33210\n- text: Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  start_ms: 33210\n  end_ms: 35580\n- text: Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  start_ms: 35580\n  end_ms: 37170\n- text: Tical get, hmmm\n  start_ms: 37170\n  end_ms: 38790\n- text: Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  start_ms: 38790\n  end_ms: 40510\n- text: Hit your house'n projects\n  start_ms: 40510\n  end_ms: 42100\n- text: I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n  start_ms: 42100\n  end_ms: 43920\n- text: Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  start_ms: 43920\n  end_ms: 46390\n- text: It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n  start_ms: 46390\n  end_ms: 48760\n- text: While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  start_ms: 48760\n  end_ms: 51220\n- text: When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n  start_ms: 51220\n  end_ms: 54430\n- text: Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n  start_ms: 54430\n  end_ms: 56750\n- text: Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  start_ms: 56750\n  end_ms: 59600\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  start_ms: 59600\n  end_ms: 62010\n- text: With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n  start_ms: 62010\n  end_ms: 64840\n- text: Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n  start_ms: 64840\n  end_ms: 67700\n- text: (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n  start_ms: 67700\n  end_ms: 72640\n- text: Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n  start_ms: 72640\n  end_ms: 75220\n- text: Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  start_ms: 75220\n  end_ms: 77370\n- text: Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n  start_ms: 77370\n  end_ms: 79410\n- text: Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  start_ms: 79410\n  end_ms: 81730\n- text: Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n  start_ms: 81730\n  end_ms: 84020\n- text: I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  start_ms: 84020\n  end_ms: 86430\n- text: More than you bargained for\n  start_ms: 86430\n  end_ms: 88510\n- text: Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n  start_ms: 88510\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93480\n- text: Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  start_ms: 93480\n  end_ms: 96300\n- text: And end your existance, M-E-T\n  start_ms: 96300\n  end_ms: 98780\n- text: Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n  start_ms: 98780\n  end_ms: 101080\n- text: I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  start_ms: 101080\n  end_ms: 104150\n- text: The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n  start_ms: 104150\n  end_ms: 106540\n- text: I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  start_ms: 106540\n  end_ms: 108590\n- text: Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n  start_ms: 108590\n  end_ms: 111940\n- text: Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  start_ms: 111940\n  end_ms: 113810\n- text: Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n  start_ms: 113810\n  end_ms: 117290\n- text: Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  start_ms: 117290\n  end_ms: 119850\n- text: Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n  start_ms: 119850\n  end_ms: 122720\n- text: The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n  start_ms: 122720\n  end_ms: 125020\n- text: And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  start_ms: 125020\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 130580\n- text: Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n  start_ms: 130580\n  end_ms: 132840\n- text: Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n  start_ms: 132840\n  end_ms: 135490\n- text: Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n  start_ms: 135490\n  end_ms: 138040\n- text: Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  start_ms: 138040\n  end_ms: 140950\n- text: How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n  start_ms: 140950\n  end_ms: 143790\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 143790\n  end_ms: 145690\n- text: It's the funk doctor spock\n  start_ms: 145690\n  end_ms: 146960\n- text: Smokin buddha on a train\n  start_ms: 146960\n  end_ms: 148740\n- text: How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 148740\n  end_ms: 151010\n- text: How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 151010\n  end_ms: 154230\n- text: Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  start_ms: 154230\n  end_ms: 156260\n- text: Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  start_ms: 156260\n  end_ms: 159150\n- text: How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 159150\n  end_ms: 161750\n- text: How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 161750\n  end_ms: 163800\n- text: Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  start_ms: 163800\n  end_ms: 166160\n- text: It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n  start_ms: 166160\n  end_ms: 169000\n- text: Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  start_ms: 169000\n  end_ms: 171990\n- text: We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n  start_ms: 171990\n  end_ms: 174560\n- text: Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n  start_ms: 174560\n  end_ms: 176880\n- text: Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n  start_ms: 176880\n  end_ms: 179470\n- text: Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n  start_ms: 179470\n  end_ms: 183720\n- text: Plus I got no love for the beast\n  start_ms: 183720\n  end_ms: 185420\n- text: Hailin from the big East Coast\n  start_ms: 185420\n  end_ms: 187270\n- text: Where niggaz pack toast\n  start_ms: 187270\n  end_ms: 188860\n- text: Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  start_ms: 188860\n  end_ms: 190640\n- text: (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n  start_ms: 190640\n  end_ms: 193260\n- text: You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n  start_ms: 193260\n  end_ms: 195910\n- text: As I run around with a racist\n  start_ms: 195910\n  end_ms: 197960\n- text: My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n  start_ms: 197960\n  end_ms: 200880\n- text: Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  start_ms: 200880\n  end_ms: 202660\n- text: He talk about it while I live it\n  start_ms: 202660\n  end_ms: 204450\n- text: If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n  start_ms: 204450\n  end_ms: 206830\n- text: Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n  start_ms: 206830\n  end_ms: 209640\n- text: Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n  start_ms: 209640\n  end_ms: 212000\n- text: Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  start_ms: 212000\n  end_ms: 214680\n- text: Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n  start_ms: 214680\n  end_ms: 216740\n- text: I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n  start_ms: 216740\n  end_ms: 218390\n- text: Who clicks the best\n  start_ms: 218390\n  end_ms: 219630\n- text: Punks take a sip and test\n  start_ms: 219630\n  end_ms: 220980\n- text: Who split your vest\n  start_ms: 220980\n  end_ms: 221910\n- text: The funk phenomenon\n  start_ms: 221910\n  end_ms: 223560\n- text: I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n  start_ms: 223560\n  end_ms: 224650\n- text: Blow canals of Panama\n  start_ms: 224650\n  end_ms: 226160\n- text: Just off stamina\n  start_ms: 226160\n  end_ms: 227420\n- text: Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n  start_ms: 227420\n  end_ms: 230050\n- text: Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n  start_ms: 230050\n  end_ms: 233230\n- text: Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n  start_ms: 233230\n  end_ms: 235220\n- text: Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  start_ms: 235220\n  end_ms: 238140\n- text: I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n  start_ms: 238140\n  end_ms: 240200\n- text: Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n  start_ms: 240200\n  end_ms: 243500\n- text: Fuck the marines, I got machines\n  start_ms: 243500\n  end_ms: 245410\n- text: To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n  start_ms: 245410\n  end_ms: 248220\n- text: I fly more heads than Continental\n  start_ms: 248220\n  end_ms: 250330\n- text: Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n  start_ms: 250330\n  end_ms: 253590\n- text: Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  start_ms: 253590\n  end_ms: 256190\n- text: But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  start_ms: 256190\n  end_ms: 258670\n- text: I breaks em up proppa\n  start_ms: 258670\n  end_ms: 260350\n- text: Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n  start_ms: 260350\n  end_ms: 261810\n- text: Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n  start_ms: 261810\n  end_ms: 264230\n- text: Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  start_ms: 264230\n  end_ms: 266040\n- text: To make your mind tickle\n  start_ms: 266040\n  end_ms: 267060\n- text: For the nine nickle\n  start_ms: 267060\n  end_ms: 268690\n- text: (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n  start_ms: 268690\n  end_ms: 269790\n- text: Punk ass pussy ass\n  start_ms: 269790\n  end_ms: 272500\n- text: (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n  start_ms: 272500\n  end_ms: 280790\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 280790\nplain: |-\n  Takin it from the top?\n  Tippy? Tippy?\n\n  How High?...\n  The Ultimate High...\n\n  'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  Tical get, hmmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your house'n projects\n  I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n  Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n  Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n  Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n  Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n  (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n\n  Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n  For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existance, M-E-T\n  Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\n  I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n  Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n  The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n  Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n  Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n  Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  It's the funk doctor spock\n  Smokin buddha on a train\n  How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n  How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\n  Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n  Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n  Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n  Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n  Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n  Plus I got no love for the beast\n  Hailin from the big East Coast\n  Where niggaz pack toast\n  Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n  You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n  As I run around with a racist\n  My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n  Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n  Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n  Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n  I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n  Who clicks the best\n  Punks take a sip and test\n  Who split your vest\n  The funk phenomenon\n  I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama\n  Just off stamina\n  Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n  Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n  Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n  Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n  Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n  Fuck the marines, I got machines\n  To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n  I fly more heads than Continental\n  Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n  Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  I breaks em up proppa\n  Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n  Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n  Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  To make your mind tickle\n  For the nine nickle\n  (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n  Punk ass pussy ass\n  (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n"},{"id":16713376,"name":"How High (instrumental)","trackName":"How High (instrumental)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"How High","duration":232.36,"instrumental":true,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":null,"syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High (instrumental)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 232360\n  instrumental: true\nlines: []\n"},{"id":10502104,"name":"How High (instrumental)","trackName":"How High (instrumental)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"How High","duration":230.0,"instrumental":true,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":null,"syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High (instrumental)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 230000\n  instrumental: true\nlines: []\n"},{"id":37111529,"name":"How High - Remix","trackName":"How High - Remix","artistName":"Redman, Method Man","albumName":"How High","duration":240.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Takin it from the top?\nTippy? Tippy?\n\nHow High?...\nThe Ultimate High...\n\n'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture\nStalk the dead body like a vulture\nTical get, hmmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your house'n projects\nI represent the Shaolin my nigga\nHell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\nIt be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\nCause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\nRaw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\nPlus, the Bombazee got me wild\n(Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n\nThree two Murder one lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreakin all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mine to get yours\nFucka, we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical, that stays open like an all nite store\nFor real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existance, M-E-T\nAint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\nI bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\nThe Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\nYour shit broke down, light your flare\nSince the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\nThe blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\nAnd yo my man (Tical) hit me now\nBitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\nForget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\nEmpty off a lickin off a hip hop\nFuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nIt's the funk doctor spock\nSmokin buddha on a train\nHow high? So high that I can kiss the sky\nHow sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\nLook up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\nRecognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\nHow high? So High that I can kiss the sky\nHow sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\nTil my man Raider Ruckus come home\nIt ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\nPuff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\nWe don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\nCheck it, I brings havoc with my hectic\nBring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\nMovin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\nPlus I got no love for the beast\nHailin from the big East Coast\nWhere niggaz pack toast\nHome of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\nYou try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\nAs I run around with a racist\nMy style was born in the 50 stair cases\nDig it, eff a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\nEnter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\nRabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\nRollin' blunts an all day habit\nI get it on like Smiff and Wess\nWho clicks the best\nPunks take a sip and test\nWho split your vest\nThe funk phenomenon\nI'm bombin you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama\nJust off stamina\nStyles not to be fucked with, or played with\nFuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\nHittin switches, Twistin wigs with\nFat radical mathematical type scriptures\nI dig up in your planets like Diga,\nBoo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\nFuck the marines, I got machines\nTo light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\nI fly more heads than Continental\nWreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\nLook I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\nBut I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\nI breaks em up proppa\nAsk Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\nFunk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\nLook, I got the tools like Rickle\nTo make your mind tickle\nFor the nine nickle\n(Yo Red, yo Red!)\nPunk ass pussy ass\n(You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.05] Takin it from the top?\n[00:03.98] Tippy? Tippy?\n[00:20.63] How High?...\n[00:21.69] The Ultimate High...\n[00:27.95] 'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\n[00:30.86] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n[00:33.21] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n[00:35.58] Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n[00:37.17] Tical get, hmmm\n[00:38.79] Blacker than your blackest stallion\n[00:40.51] Hit your house'n projects\n[00:42.10] I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n[00:43.92] Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n[00:46.39] It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n[00:48.76] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n[00:51.22] When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n[00:54.43] Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n[00:56.75] Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n[00:59.60] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n[01:02.01] With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n[01:04.84] Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n[01:07.70] (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n[01:12.64] Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n[01:15.22] Tical bring it to that ass raw\n[01:17.37] Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n[01:19.41] Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n[01:21.73] Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n[01:24.02] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n[01:26.43] More than you bargained for\n[01:28.51] Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n[01:30.64] For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n[01:33.48] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n[01:36.30] And end your existance, M-E-T\n[01:38.78] Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n[01:41.08] I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n[01:44.15] The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n[01:46.54] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n[01:48.59] Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n[01:51.94] Your shit broke down, light your flare\n[01:53.81] Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n[01:57.29] Six million ways to die, so I chose\n[01:59.85] Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n[02:02.72] The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n[02:05.02] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n[02:07.84] And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n[02:10.58] Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n[02:12.84] Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n[02:15.49] Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n[02:18.04] Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n[02:20.95] How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n[02:23.79] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:25.69] It's the funk doctor spock\n[02:26.96] Smokin buddha on a train\n[02:28.74] How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n[02:31.01] How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:34.23] Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n[02:36.26] Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n[02:39.15] How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n[02:41.75] How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:43.80] Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n[02:46.16] It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n[02:49.00] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n[02:51.99] We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n[02:54.56] Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n[02:56.88] Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n[02:59.47] Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n[03:03.72] Plus I got no love for the beast\n[03:05.42] Hailin from the big East Coast\n[03:07.27] Where niggaz pack toast\n[03:08.86] Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n[03:10.64] (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n[03:13.26] You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n[03:15.91] As I run around with a racist\n[03:17.96] My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n[03:20.88] Dig it, eff a rap critic\n[03:22.66] He talk about it while I live it\n[03:24.45] If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n[03:26.83] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n[03:29.64] Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n[03:32.00] Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n[03:34.68] Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n[03:36.74] I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n[03:38.39] Who clicks the best\n[03:39.63] Punks take a sip and test\n[03:40.98] Who split your vest\n[03:41.91] The funk phenomenon\n[03:43.56] I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n[03:44.65] Blow canals of Panama\n[03:46.16] Just off stamina\n[03:47.42] Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n[03:50.05] Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n[03:53.23] Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n[03:55.22] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n[03:58.14] I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n[04:00.20] Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n[04:03.50] Fuck the marines, I got machines\n[04:05.41] To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n[04:08.22] I fly more heads than Continental\n[04:10.33] Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n[04:13.59] Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n[04:16.19] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n[04:18.67] I breaks em up proppa\n[04:20.35] Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n[04:21.81] Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n[04:24.23] Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n[04:26.04] To make your mind tickle\n[04:27.06] For the nine nickle\n[04:28.69] (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n[04:29.79] Punk ass pussy ass\n[04:32.50] (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n[04:40.79] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High - Remix\n  artist: Redman, Method Man\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 240000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Takin it from the top?\n  start_ms: 2050\n  end_ms: 3980\n- text: Tippy? Tippy?\n  start_ms: 3980\n  end_ms: 20630\n- text: How High?...\n  start_ms: 20630\n  end_ms: 21690\n- text: The Ultimate High...\n  start_ms: 21690\n  end_ms: 27950\n- text: '''Scuse me as I kiss the sky'\n  start_ms: 27950\n  end_ms: 30860\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  start_ms: 30860\n  end_ms: 33210\n- text: Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  start_ms: 33210\n  end_ms: 35580\n- text: Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  start_ms: 35580\n  end_ms: 37170\n- text: Tical get, hmmm\n  start_ms: 37170\n  end_ms: 38790\n- text: Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  start_ms: 38790\n  end_ms: 40510\n- text: Hit your house'n projects\n  start_ms: 40510\n  end_ms: 42100\n- text: I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n  start_ms: 42100\n  end_ms: 43920\n- text: Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  start_ms: 43920\n  end_ms: 46390\n- text: It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n  start_ms: 46390\n  end_ms: 48760\n- text: While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  start_ms: 48760\n  end_ms: 51220\n- text: When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n  start_ms: 51220\n  end_ms: 54430\n- text: Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n  start_ms: 54430\n  end_ms: 56750\n- text: Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  start_ms: 56750\n  end_ms: 59600\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  start_ms: 59600\n  end_ms: 62010\n- text: With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n  start_ms: 62010\n  end_ms: 64840\n- text: Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n  start_ms: 64840\n  end_ms: 67700\n- text: (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n  start_ms: 67700\n  end_ms: 72640\n- text: Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n  start_ms: 72640\n  end_ms: 75220\n- text: Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  start_ms: 75220\n  end_ms: 77370\n- text: Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n  start_ms: 77370\n  end_ms: 79410\n- text: Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  start_ms: 79410\n  end_ms: 81730\n- text: Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n  start_ms: 81730\n  end_ms: 84020\n- text: I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  start_ms: 84020\n  end_ms: 86430\n- text: More than you bargained for\n  start_ms: 86430\n  end_ms: 88510\n- text: Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n  start_ms: 88510\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93480\n- text: Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  start_ms: 93480\n  end_ms: 96300\n- text: And end your existance, M-E-T\n  start_ms: 96300\n  end_ms: 98780\n- text: Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n  start_ms: 98780\n  end_ms: 101080\n- text: I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  start_ms: 101080\n  end_ms: 104150\n- text: The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n  start_ms: 104150\n  end_ms: 106540\n- text: I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  start_ms: 106540\n  end_ms: 108590\n- text: Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n  start_ms: 108590\n  end_ms: 111940\n- text: Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  start_ms: 111940\n  end_ms: 113810\n- text: Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n  start_ms: 113810\n  end_ms: 117290\n- text: Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  start_ms: 117290\n  end_ms: 119850\n- text: Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n  start_ms: 119850\n  end_ms: 122720\n- text: The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n  start_ms: 122720\n  end_ms: 125020\n- text: And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  start_ms: 125020\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 130580\n- text: Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n  start_ms: 130580\n  end_ms: 132840\n- text: Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n  start_ms: 132840\n  end_ms: 135490\n- text: Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n  start_ms: 135490\n  end_ms: 138040\n- text: Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  start_ms: 138040\n  end_ms: 140950\n- text: How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n  start_ms: 140950\n  end_ms: 143790\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 143790\n  end_ms: 145690\n- text: It's the funk doctor spock\n  start_ms: 145690\n  end_ms: 146960\n- text: Smokin buddha on a train\n  start_ms: 146960\n  end_ms: 148740\n- text: How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 148740\n  end_ms: 151010\n- text: How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 151010\n  end_ms: 154230\n- text: Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  start_ms: 154230\n  end_ms: 156260\n- text: Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  start_ms: 156260\n  end_ms: 159150\n- text: How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 159150\n  end_ms: 161750\n- text: How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 161750\n  end_ms: 163800\n- text: Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  start_ms: 163800\n  end_ms: 166160\n- text: It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n  start_ms: 166160\n  end_ms: 169000\n- text: Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  start_ms: 169000\n  end_ms: 171990\n- text: We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n  start_ms: 171990\n  end_ms: 174560\n- text: Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n  start_ms: 174560\n  end_ms: 176880\n- text: Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n  start_ms: 176880\n  end_ms: 179470\n- text: Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n  start_ms: 179470\n  end_ms: 183720\n- text: Plus I got no love for the beast\n  start_ms: 183720\n  end_ms: 185420\n- text: Hailin from the big East Coast\n  start_ms: 185420\n  end_ms: 187270\n- text: Where niggaz pack toast\n  start_ms: 187270\n  end_ms: 188860\n- text: Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  start_ms: 188860\n  end_ms: 190640\n- text: (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n  start_ms: 190640\n  end_ms: 193260\n- text: You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n  start_ms: 193260\n  end_ms: 195910\n- text: As I run around with a racist\n  start_ms: 195910\n  end_ms: 197960\n- text: My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n  start_ms: 197960\n  end_ms: 200880\n- text: Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  start_ms: 200880\n  end_ms: 202660\n- text: He talk about it while I live it\n  start_ms: 202660\n  end_ms: 204450\n- text: If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n  start_ms: 204450\n  end_ms: 206830\n- text: Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n  start_ms: 206830\n  end_ms: 209640\n- text: Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n  start_ms: 209640\n  end_ms: 212000\n- text: Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  start_ms: 212000\n  end_ms: 214680\n- text: Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n  start_ms: 214680\n  end_ms: 216740\n- text: I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n  start_ms: 216740\n  end_ms: 218390\n- text: Who clicks the best\n  start_ms: 218390\n  end_ms: 219630\n- text: Punks take a sip and test\n  start_ms: 219630\n  end_ms: 220980\n- text: Who split your vest\n  start_ms: 220980\n  end_ms: 221910\n- text: The funk phenomenon\n  start_ms: 221910\n  end_ms: 223560\n- text: I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n  start_ms: 223560\n  end_ms: 224650\n- text: Blow canals of Panama\n  start_ms: 224650\n  end_ms: 226160\n- text: Just off stamina\n  start_ms: 226160\n  end_ms: 227420\n- text: Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n  start_ms: 227420\n  end_ms: 230050\n- text: Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n  start_ms: 230050\n  end_ms: 233230\n- text: Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n  start_ms: 233230\n  end_ms: 235220\n- text: Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  start_ms: 235220\n  end_ms: 238140\n- text: I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n  start_ms: 238140\n  end_ms: 240200\n- text: Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n  start_ms: 240200\n  end_ms: 243500\n- text: Fuck the marines, I got machines\n  start_ms: 243500\n  end_ms: 245410\n- text: To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n  start_ms: 245410\n  end_ms: 248220\n- text: I fly more heads than Continental\n  start_ms: 248220\n  end_ms: 250330\n- text: Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n  start_ms: 250330\n  end_ms: 253590\n- text: Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  start_ms: 253590\n  end_ms: 256190\n- text: But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  start_ms: 256190\n  end_ms: 258670\n- text: I breaks em up proppa\n  start_ms: 258670\n  end_ms: 260350\n- text: Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n  start_ms: 260350\n  end_ms: 261810\n- text: Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n  start_ms: 261810\n  end_ms: 264230\n- text: Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  start_ms: 264230\n  end_ms: 266040\n- text: To make your mind tickle\n  start_ms: 266040\n  end_ms: 267060\n- text: For the nine nickle\n  start_ms: 267060\n  end_ms: 268690\n- text: (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n  start_ms: 268690\n  end_ms: 269790\n- text: Punk ass pussy ass\n  start_ms: 269790\n  end_ms: 272500\n- text: (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n  start_ms: 272500\n  end_ms: 280790\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 280790\nplain: |-\n  Takin it from the top?\n  Tippy? Tippy?\n\n  How High?...\n  The Ultimate High...\n\n  'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  Tical get, hmmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your house'n projects\n  I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n  Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n  Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n  Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n  Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n  (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n\n  Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n  For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existance, M-E-T\n  Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\n  I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n  Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n  The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n  Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n  Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n  Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  It's the funk doctor spock\n  Smokin buddha on a train\n  How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n  How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\n  Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n  Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n  Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n  Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n  Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n  Plus I got no love for the beast\n  Hailin from the big East Coast\n  Where niggaz pack toast\n  Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n  You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n  As I run around with a racist\n  My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n  Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n  Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n  Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n  I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n  Who clicks the best\n  Punks take a sip and test\n  Who split your vest\n  The funk phenomenon\n  I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama\n  Just off stamina\n  Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n  Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n  Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n  Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n  Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n  Fuck the marines, I got machines\n  To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n  I fly more heads than Continental\n  Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n  Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  I breaks em up proppa\n  Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n  Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n  Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  To make your mind tickle\n  For the nine nickle\n  (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n  Punk ass pussy ass\n  (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n"},{"id":35868115,"name":"How High - Instrumental","trackName":"How High - Instrumental","artistName":"Redman; Method Man","albumName":"How High","duration":229.0,"instrumental":true,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":null,"syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High - Instrumental\n  artist: Redman; Method Man\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 229000\n  instrumental: true\nlines: []\n"},{"id":29307931,"name":"How High (remix)","trackName":"How High (remix)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"How High","duration":243.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Takin it from the top?\nTippy? Tippy?\n\nHow High?...\nThe Ultimate High...\n\n'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\nSing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\nWho the fuck wanna die for their culture\nStalk the dead body like a vulture\nTical get, hmmm\nBlacker than your blackest stallion\nHit your house'n projects\nI represent the Shaolin my nigga\nHell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\nIt be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\nWhile the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\nWhen I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\nCause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\nRaw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\nThe Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\nWith more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\nPlus, the Bombazee got me wild\n(Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n\nThree two Murder one lyric at your door\nTical bring it to that ass raw\nBreakin all the rules like glass jaws\nNigga, you got to get mine to get yours\nFucka, we don't need no rap tour\nI'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\nMore than you bargained for\nTical, that stays open like an all nite store\nFor real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\nPointed at your temple with the intent to kill\nAnd end your existance, M-E-T\nAint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\nI bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\nThe Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\nI shift like a clutch with the Ruck\nExamine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\nYour shit broke down, light your flare\nSince the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\nSix million ways to die, so I chose\nMade it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\nThe blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\nAnd shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\nAnd yo my man (Tical) hit me now\nBitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\nForget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\nEmpty off a lickin off a hip hop\nFuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\nHow you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n\nLook up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\nIt's the funk doctor spock\nSmokin buddha on a train\nHow high? So high that I can kiss the sky\nHow sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\nLook up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\nRecognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\nHow high? So High that I can kiss the sky\nHow sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\nTil my man Raider Ruckus come home\nIt ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\nPuff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\nWe don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\nCheck it, I brings havoc with my hectic\nBring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\nMovin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\nPlus I got no love for the beast\nHailin from the big East Coast\nWhere niggaz pack toast\nHome of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\nYou try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\nAs I run around with a racist\nMy style was born in the 50 stair cases\nDig it, eff a rap critic\nHe talk about it while I live it\nIf Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n\nLook up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\nEnter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\nRabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\nRollin' blunts an all day habit\nI get it on like Smiff and Wess\nWho clicks the best\nPunks take a sip and test\nWho split your vest\nThe funk phenomenon\nI'm bombin you like Lebanon\nBlow canals of Panama\nJust off stamina\nStyles not to be fucked with, or played with\nFuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\nHittin switches, Twistin wigs with\nFat radical mathematical type scriptures\nI dig up in your planets like Diga,\nBoo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\nFuck the marines, I got machines\nTo light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\nI fly more heads than Continental\nWreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\nLook I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\nBut I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\nI breaks em up proppa\nAsk Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\nFunk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\nLook, I got the tools like Rickle\nTo make your mind tickle\nFor the nine nickle\n(Yo Red, yo Red!)\nPunk ass pussy ass\n(You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.05] Takin it from the top?\n[00:03.98] Tippy? Tippy?\n[00:20.63] How High?...\n[00:21.69] The Ultimate High...\n[00:27.95] 'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\n[00:30.86] Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n[00:33.21] Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n[00:35.58] Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n[00:37.17] Tical get, hmmm\n[00:38.79] Blacker than your blackest stallion\n[00:40.51] Hit your house'n projects\n[00:42.10] I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n[00:43.92] Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n[00:46.39] It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n[00:48.76] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n[00:51.22] When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n[00:54.43] Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n[00:56.75] Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n[00:59.60] The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n[01:02.01] With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n[01:04.84] Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n[01:07.70] (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n[01:12.64] Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n[01:15.22] Tical bring it to that ass raw\n[01:17.37] Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n[01:19.41] Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n[01:21.73] Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n[01:24.02] I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n[01:26.43] More than you bargained for\n[01:28.51] Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n[01:30.64] For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n[01:33.48] Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n[01:36.30] And end your existance, M-E-T\n[01:38.78] Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n[01:41.08] I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n[01:44.15] The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n[01:46.54] I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n[01:48.59] Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n[01:51.94] Your shit broke down, light your flare\n[01:53.81] Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n[01:57.29] Six million ways to die, so I chose\n[01:59.85] Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n[02:02.72] The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n[02:05.02] And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n[02:07.84] And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n[02:10.58] Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n[02:12.84] Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n[02:15.49] Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n[02:18.04] Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n[02:20.95] How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n[02:23.79] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n[02:25.69] It's the funk doctor spock\n[02:26.96] Smokin buddha on a train\n[02:28.74] How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n[02:31.01] How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:34.23] Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n[02:36.26] Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n[02:39.15] How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n[02:41.75] How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n[02:43.80] Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n[02:46.16] It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n[02:49.00] Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n[02:51.99] We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n[02:54.56] Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n[02:56.88] Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n[02:59.47] Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n[03:03.72] Plus I got no love for the beast\n[03:05.42] Hailin from the big East Coast\n[03:07.27] Where niggaz pack toast\n[03:08.86] Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n[03:10.64] (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n[03:13.26] You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n[03:15.91] As I run around with a racist\n[03:17.96] My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n[03:20.88] Dig it, eff a rap critic\n[03:22.66] He talk about it while I live it\n[03:24.45] If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n[03:26.83] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n[03:29.64] Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n[03:32.00] Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n[03:34.68] Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n[03:36.74] I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n[03:38.39] Who clicks the best\n[03:39.63] Punks take a sip and test\n[03:40.98] Who split your vest\n[03:41.91] The funk phenomenon\n[03:43.56] I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n[03:44.65] Blow canals of Panama\n[03:46.16] Just off stamina\n[03:47.42] Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n[03:50.05] Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n[03:53.23] Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n[03:55.22] Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n[03:58.14] I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n[04:00.20] Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n[04:03.50] Fuck the marines, I got machines\n[04:05.41] To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n[04:08.22] I fly more heads than Continental\n[04:10.33] Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n[04:13.59] Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n[04:16.19] But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n[04:18.67] I breaks em up proppa\n[04:20.35] Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n[04:21.81] Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n[04:24.23] Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n[04:26.04] To make your mind tickle\n[04:27.06] For the nine nickle\n[04:28.69] (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n[04:29.79] Punk ass pussy ass\n[04:32.50] (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n[04:40.79] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High (remix)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 243000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Takin it from the top?\n  start_ms: 2050\n  end_ms: 3980\n- text: Tippy? Tippy?\n  start_ms: 3980\n  end_ms: 20630\n- text: How High?...\n  start_ms: 20630\n  end_ms: 21690\n- text: The Ultimate High...\n  start_ms: 21690\n  end_ms: 27950\n- text: '''Scuse me as I kiss the sky'\n  start_ms: 27950\n  end_ms: 30860\n- text: Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  start_ms: 30860\n  end_ms: 33210\n- text: Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  start_ms: 33210\n  end_ms: 35580\n- text: Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  start_ms: 35580\n  end_ms: 37170\n- text: Tical get, hmmm\n  start_ms: 37170\n  end_ms: 38790\n- text: Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  start_ms: 38790\n  end_ms: 40510\n- text: Hit your house'n projects\n  start_ms: 40510\n  end_ms: 42100\n- text: I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n  start_ms: 42100\n  end_ms: 43920\n- text: Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  start_ms: 43920\n  end_ms: 46390\n- text: It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n  start_ms: 46390\n  end_ms: 48760\n- text: While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  start_ms: 48760\n  end_ms: 51220\n- text: When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n  start_ms: 51220\n  end_ms: 54430\n- text: Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n  start_ms: 54430\n  end_ms: 56750\n- text: Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  start_ms: 56750\n  end_ms: 59600\n- text: The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  start_ms: 59600\n  end_ms: 62010\n- text: With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n  start_ms: 62010\n  end_ms: 64840\n- text: Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n  start_ms: 64840\n  end_ms: 67700\n- text: (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n  start_ms: 67700\n  end_ms: 72640\n- text: Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n  start_ms: 72640\n  end_ms: 75220\n- text: Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  start_ms: 75220\n  end_ms: 77370\n- text: Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n  start_ms: 77370\n  end_ms: 79410\n- text: Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  start_ms: 79410\n  end_ms: 81730\n- text: Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n  start_ms: 81730\n  end_ms: 84020\n- text: I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  start_ms: 84020\n  end_ms: 86430\n- text: More than you bargained for\n  start_ms: 86430\n  end_ms: 88510\n- text: Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n  start_ms: 88510\n  end_ms: 90640\n- text: For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  start_ms: 90640\n  end_ms: 93480\n- text: Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  start_ms: 93480\n  end_ms: 96300\n- text: And end your existance, M-E-T\n  start_ms: 96300\n  end_ms: 98780\n- text: Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n  start_ms: 98780\n  end_ms: 101080\n- text: I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  start_ms: 101080\n  end_ms: 104150\n- text: The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n  start_ms: 104150\n  end_ms: 106540\n- text: I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  start_ms: 106540\n  end_ms: 108590\n- text: Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n  start_ms: 108590\n  end_ms: 111940\n- text: Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  start_ms: 111940\n  end_ms: 113810\n- text: Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n  start_ms: 113810\n  end_ms: 117290\n- text: Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  start_ms: 117290\n  end_ms: 119850\n- text: Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n  start_ms: 119850\n  end_ms: 122720\n- text: The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n  start_ms: 122720\n  end_ms: 125020\n- text: And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  start_ms: 125020\n  end_ms: 127840\n- text: And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  start_ms: 127840\n  end_ms: 130580\n- text: Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n  start_ms: 130580\n  end_ms: 132840\n- text: Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n  start_ms: 132840\n  end_ms: 135490\n- text: Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n  start_ms: 135490\n  end_ms: 138040\n- text: Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  start_ms: 138040\n  end_ms: 140950\n- text: How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n  start_ms: 140950\n  end_ms: 143790\n- text: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  start_ms: 143790\n  end_ms: 145690\n- text: It's the funk doctor spock\n  start_ms: 145690\n  end_ms: 146960\n- text: Smokin buddha on a train\n  start_ms: 146960\n  end_ms: 148740\n- text: How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 148740\n  end_ms: 151010\n- text: How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 151010\n  end_ms: 154230\n- text: Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  start_ms: 154230\n  end_ms: 156260\n- text: Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  start_ms: 156260\n  end_ms: 159150\n- text: How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n  start_ms: 159150\n  end_ms: 161750\n- text: How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n  start_ms: 161750\n  end_ms: 163800\n- text: Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  start_ms: 163800\n  end_ms: 166160\n- text: It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n  start_ms: 166160\n  end_ms: 169000\n- text: Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  start_ms: 169000\n  end_ms: 171990\n- text: We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n  start_ms: 171990\n  end_ms: 174560\n- text: Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n  start_ms: 174560\n  end_ms: 176880\n- text: Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n  start_ms: 176880\n  end_ms: 179470\n- text: Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n  start_ms: 179470\n  end_ms: 183720\n- text: Plus I got no love for the beast\n  start_ms: 183720\n  end_ms: 185420\n- text: Hailin from the big East Coast\n  start_ms: 185420\n  end_ms: 187270\n- text: Where niggaz pack toast\n  start_ms: 187270\n  end_ms: 188860\n- text: Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  start_ms: 188860\n  end_ms: 190640\n- text: (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n  start_ms: 190640\n  end_ms: 193260\n- text: You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n  start_ms: 193260\n  end_ms: 195910\n- text: As I run around with a racist\n  start_ms: 195910\n  end_ms: 197960\n- text: My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n  start_ms: 197960\n  end_ms: 200880\n- text: Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  start_ms: 200880\n  end_ms: 202660\n- text: He talk about it while I live it\n  start_ms: 202660\n  end_ms: 204450\n- text: If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n  start_ms: 204450\n  end_ms: 206830\n- text: Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n  start_ms: 206830\n  end_ms: 209640\n- text: Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n  start_ms: 209640\n  end_ms: 212000\n- text: Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  start_ms: 212000\n  end_ms: 214680\n- text: Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n  start_ms: 214680\n  end_ms: 216740\n- text: I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n  start_ms: 216740\n  end_ms: 218390\n- text: Who clicks the best\n  start_ms: 218390\n  end_ms: 219630\n- text: Punks take a sip and test\n  start_ms: 219630\n  end_ms: 220980\n- text: Who split your vest\n  start_ms: 220980\n  end_ms: 221910\n- text: The funk phenomenon\n  start_ms: 221910\n  end_ms: 223560\n- text: I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n  start_ms: 223560\n  end_ms: 224650\n- text: Blow canals of Panama\n  start_ms: 224650\n  end_ms: 226160\n- text: Just off stamina\n  start_ms: 226160\n  end_ms: 227420\n- text: Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n  start_ms: 227420\n  end_ms: 230050\n- text: Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n  start_ms: 230050\n  end_ms: 233230\n- text: Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n  start_ms: 233230\n  end_ms: 235220\n- text: Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  start_ms: 235220\n  end_ms: 238140\n- text: I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n  start_ms: 238140\n  end_ms: 240200\n- text: Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n  start_ms: 240200\n  end_ms: 243500\n- text: Fuck the marines, I got machines\n  start_ms: 243500\n  end_ms: 245410\n- text: To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n  start_ms: 245410\n  end_ms: 248220\n- text: I fly more heads than Continental\n  start_ms: 248220\n  end_ms: 250330\n- text: Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n  start_ms: 250330\n  end_ms: 253590\n- text: Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  start_ms: 253590\n  end_ms: 256190\n- text: But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  start_ms: 256190\n  end_ms: 258670\n- text: I breaks em up proppa\n  start_ms: 258670\n  end_ms: 260350\n- text: Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n  start_ms: 260350\n  end_ms: 261810\n- text: Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n  start_ms: 261810\n  end_ms: 264230\n- text: Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  start_ms: 264230\n  end_ms: 266040\n- text: To make your mind tickle\n  start_ms: 266040\n  end_ms: 267060\n- text: For the nine nickle\n  start_ms: 267060\n  end_ms: 268690\n- text: (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n  start_ms: 268690\n  end_ms: 269790\n- text: Punk ass pussy ass\n  start_ms: 269790\n  end_ms: 272500\n- text: (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n  start_ms: 272500\n  end_ms: 280790\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 280790\nplain: |-\n  Takin it from the top?\n  Tippy? Tippy?\n\n  How High?...\n  The Ultimate High...\n\n  'Scuse me as I kiss the sky\n  Sing a song of sixpence, a pocketful a rye\n  Who the fuck wanna die for their culture\n  Stalk the dead body like a vulture\n  Tical get, hmmm\n  Blacker than your blackest stallion\n  Hit your house'n projects\n  I represent the Shaolin my nigga\n  Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow\n  It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down\n\n  While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse\n  When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks!\n  Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores\n  Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs\n  The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it\n  With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch\n  Plus, the Bombazee got me wild\n  (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide\n\n  Three two Murder one lyric at your door\n  Tical bring it to that ass raw\n  Breakin all the rules like glass jaws\n  Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours\n  Fucka, we don't need no rap tour\n  I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture\n  More than you bargained for\n  Tical, that stays open like an all nite store\n  For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel\n  Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill\n  And end your existance, M-E-T\n  Aint no use for resistance, H-O-D\n\n  I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust\n  The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts\n  I shift like a clutch with the Ruck\n  Examine my nuts, I dont stop 'till I get enough\n  Your shit broke down, light your flare\n  Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares\n  Six million ways to die, so I chose\n  Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed\n  The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap\n  And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass\n  And yo my man (Tical) hit me now\n  Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now\n  Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock\n  Empty off a lickin off a hip hop\n  Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block\n  How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot?\n\n  Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane\n  It's the funk doctor spock\n  Smokin buddha on a train\n  How high? So high that I can kiss the sky\n  How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick\n  Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane\n  Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed\n  How high? So High that I can kiss the sky\n  How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick\n\n  Til my man Raider Ruckus come home\n  It ain't really on 'till the Ruckus get, home\n  Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone\n  We don't need yo dirt, we, we got our fuckin own\n  Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic\n  Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic\n  Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece\n  Plus I got no love for the beast\n  Hailin from the big East Coast\n  Where niggaz pack toast\n  Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats\n  (Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block\n  You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)\n  As I run around with a racist\n  My style was born in the 50 stair cases\n  Dig it, eff a rap critic\n  He talk about it while I live it\n  If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it\n\n  Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya\n  Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet\n  Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic\n  Rollin' blunts an all day habit\n  I get it on like Smiff and Wess\n  Who clicks the best\n  Punks take a sip and test\n  Who split your vest\n  The funk phenomenon\n  I'm bombin you like Lebanon\n  Blow canals of Panama\n  Just off stamina\n  Styles not to be fucked with, or played with\n  Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches\n  Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with\n  Fat radical mathematical type scriptures\n  I dig up in your planets like Diga,\n  Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens\n  Fuck the marines, I got machines\n  To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine\n  I fly more heads than Continental\n  Wreck ya five times like US AIR off an instrumental\n  Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks\n  But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks\n  I breaks em up proppa\n  Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'\n  Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg\n  Look, I got the tools like Rickle\n  To make your mind tickle\n  For the nine nickle\n  (Yo Red, yo Red!)\n  Punk ass pussy ass\n  (You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)\n"},{"id":37887171,"name":"How High (Instrumental)","trackName":"How High (Instrumental)","artistName":"Redman & Method Man","albumName":"How High","duration":125.0,"instrumental":true,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":null,"syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: How High (Instrumental)\n  artist: Redman & Method Man\n  album: How High\n  duration_ms: 125000\n  instrumental: true\nlines: []\n"},{"id":14484657,"name":"Method Man & Redman feat. Cypress Hill / Cisco Kid","trackName":"Method Man & Redman feat. Cypress Hill / Cisco Kid","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"How High - The Soundtrack","duration":240.1952,"instrumental":true,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":null,"syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Method Man & Redman feat. Cypress Hill / Cisco Kid\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: How High - The Soundtrack\n  duration_ms: 240195\n  instrumental: true\nlines: []\n"},{"id":14081103,"name":"Method Man & Redman / Part Ii","trackName":"Method Man & Redman / Part Ii","artistName":"Method Man","albumName":"How High - The Soundtrack","duration":244.5872,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"[Intro: Toni Braxton (Redman/Method Man)]\nI, I get so high\n\n(Redman: Yo ladies and gentlemen. we got Toni Braxton up in the house)\n(Method Man: So high that I can kiss the sky bitch)\n(Redman: We live up in here y'all, let's get high)\n(Method Man: Motherfucker get high)\n\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\n\n[Method Man]\nTical shittin again -- spittin to win\nLoaded guns, clip in the end, none sicker than him\nYes indeed, I'm ill as any STD's or sex disease\nThese dirty rats want extra cheese\nOn that piece of the pie, now ask me how high?\nUntil ya reach for the sky blame the crooked letter I\nThat's my home, 23's wrapped in chrome\nNot only snap on y'all niggaz but I'll snap dem bones\nSlap your dome, make you leave that crack alone\nYou got the, key to the city but the latch is on\nI gots it locked, bringin the noise bringin the Funk Doctor Spock\nBringin my boys bringin you lungs\nPop the glock but only if you feel this shit\nJack the Ripper, don't make me have to kill this bitch\nBack to get'cha put it in check that's the Mista\nMeth with his wood on your neck, shut your lips up\n\n[Chorus - Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]\nI, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\nI, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\nI, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\n\n[Redman]\nYou can, call on the man when the party is borin\nI'll have these hoes strippin till it's part of the mornin\nI love a fat chick, with a body enormous\nIt ain't about the weight yo it's how they performin\nMy dash is 180, my weed half a pound\nWhen the smoke in the air my nose like basset hounds\nI don't stash the dro', nigga divide\nI'm that nigga that ride with trigga to give a supply\nHigh, is how I stay all the time\n(Method Man: Niggaz close your doors)\nYo bitches shut all your blinds\nIf I'm, hard to find take two puffs and pass\nI stay back but my Benz moved up a class\nIt's Doc and Meth the format is real sickenin\nContagious, we out for Mr. Biggs women\nYou better shut your trap when my dogs around\nWe pissin on fire hydrants, so walk around bitch!\n\n[Chorus: Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]\nI, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\nI, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\nI, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\n\n[Method Man]\nMista Method Man, puttin in work, foot in the dirt\nLike it's all good, roll through yo' hood, pushin a hearse\nI wish y'all would, come aruond like Clint Eastwood\nAs if your, reppin your hood in my neck of the woods\nStreet gorillas in the PJ's, grimy bitch\nI wear the same shit for three days, find me lit\nBlunt sparks like Felipe - fuck the he say, the she say\nAdjust the microphone, plus the cliche\n\n[Redman]\nYo, call me the Bob Backlund, I'll break backs on hoes\nthat look like Toni Braxton, come run with these boney masked men\nI'm out the gutter, I'm to send your baby mother\nout for rubbers, we fuckin tonight\nBitches wanna crowd around, how I'm cuffin the mic\nI'm a gorilla, leave a banana stuck in your pipe\nCause I'm a real block winner, the Doc inna\nBitch one of my balls bigger than the Epcot Center!\n\n[Chorus: Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]\nI, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\nI, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\nI, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nI, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\nI, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\nI, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)\nHigh (Let's Get)","syncedLyrics":"[00:02.12] [Intro: Toni Braxton (Redman/Method Man)]\n[00:02.64] I, I get so high\n[00:06.56] (Redman: Yo ladies and gentlemen. we got Toni Braxton up in the house)\n[00:09.77] (Method Man: So high that I can kiss the sky bitch)\n[00:13.79] (Redman: We live up in here y'all, let's get high)\n[00:16.08] (Method Man: Motherfucker get high)\n[00:17.92] High (Let's Get)\n[00:20.42] High (Let's Get)\n[00:21.88] High (Let's Get)\n[00:22.78] High (Let's Get)\n[00:23.50] [Method Man]\n[00:24.30] Tical shittin again -- spittin to win\n[00:25.66] Loaded guns, clip in the end, none sicker than him\n[00:29.03] Yes indeed, I'm ill as any STD's or sex disease\n[00:31.56] These dirty rats want extra cheese\n[00:33.92] On that piece of the pie, now ask me how high?\n[00:36.65] Until ya reach for the sky blame the crooked letter I\n[00:39.15] That's my home, 23's wrapped in chrome\n[00:41.58] Not only snap on y'all niggaz but I'll snap dem bones\n[00:43.97] Slap your dome, make you leave that crack alone\n[00:46.46] You got the, key to the city but the latch is on\n[00:48.97] I gots it locked, bringin the noise bringin the Funk Doctor Spock\n[00:52.26] Bringin my boys bringin you lungs\n[00:54.92] Pop the glock but only if you feel this shit\n[00:57.21] Jack the Ripper, don't make me have to kill this bitch\n[00:59.05] Back to get'cha put it in check that's the Mista\n[01:01.74] Meth with his wood on your neck, shut your lips up\n[01:03.98] [Chorus - Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]\n[01:06.65] I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n[01:09.19] I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n[01:12.23] I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n[01:19.58] High (Let's Get)\n[01:20.43] High (Let's Get)\n[01:21.48] High (Let's Get)\n[01:22.35] High (Let's Get)\n[01:23.43] [Redman]\n[01:24.17] You can, call on the man when the party is borin\n[01:26.47] I'll have these hoes strippin till it's part of the mornin\n[01:28.95] I love a fat chick, with a body enormous\n[01:31.46] It ain't about the weight yo it's how they performin\n[01:34.06] My dash is 180, my weed half a pound\n[01:36.65] When the smoke in the air my nose like basset hounds\n[01:39.26] I don't stash the dro', nigga divide\n[01:41.72] I'm that nigga that ride with trigga to give a supply\n[01:43.99] High, is how I stay all the time\n[01:46.73] (Method Man: Niggaz close your doors)\n[01:47.85] Yo bitches shut all your blinds\n[01:49.34] If I'm, hard to find take two puffs and pass\n[01:51.58] I stay back but my Benz moved up a class\n[01:54.23] It's Doc and Meth the format is real sickenin\n[01:56.82] Contagious, we out for Mr. Biggs women\n[01:59.24] You better shut your trap when my dogs around\n[02:01.40] We pissin on fire hydrants, so walk around bitch!\n[02:03.48] [Chorus: Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]\n[02:04.47] I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n[02:09.02] I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n[02:13.84] I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n[02:19.12] High (Let's Get)\n[02:20.32] High (Let's Get)\n[02:21.50] High (Let's Get)\n[02:22.71] High (Let's Get)\n[02:23.73] [Method Man]\n[02:24.27] Mista Method Man, puttin in work, foot in the dirt\n[02:26.65] Like it's all good, roll through yo' hood, pushin a hearse\n[02:29.12] I wish y'all would, come aruond like Clint Eastwood\n[02:31.62] As if your, reppin your hood in my neck of the woods\n[02:34.08] Street gorillas in the PJ's, grimy bitch\n[02:36.39] I wear the same shit for three days, find me lit\n[02:39.70] Blunt sparks like Felipe - fuck the he say, the she say\n[02:43.13] Adjust the microphone, plus the cliche\n[02:44.46] [Redman]\n[02:44.86] Yo, call me the Bob Backlund, I'll break backs on hoes\n[02:46.59] That look like Toni Braxton, come run with these boney masked men\n[02:49.42] I'm out the gutter, I'm to send your baby mother\n[02:52.08] Out for rubbers, we fuckin tonight\n[02:53.98] Bitches wanna crowd around, how I'm cuffin the mic\n[02:56.46] I'm a gorilla, leave a banana stuck in your pipe\n[02:58.83] Cause I'm a real block winner, the Doc inna\n[03:01.53] Bitch one of my balls bigger than the Epcot Center!\n[03:03.64] [Chorus: Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]\n[03:05.27] I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n[03:09.35] I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n[03:14.79] I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n[03:19.88] High (Let's Get)\n[03:20.63] High (Let's Get)\n[03:21.76] High (Let's Get)\n[03:22.60] High (Let's Get)\n[03:24.17] I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n[03:29.48] I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n[03:34.31] I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n[03:37.77] High (Let's Get)\n[03:40.40] High (Let's Get)\n[03:41.85] High (Let's Get)\n[03:43.04] High (Let's Get)\n[03:49.25] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Method Man & Redman / Part Ii\n  artist: Method Man\n  album: How High - The Soundtrack\n  duration_ms: 244587\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: '[Intro: Toni Braxton (Redman/Method Man)]'\n  start_ms: 2120\n  end_ms: 2640\n- text: I, I get so high\n  start_ms: 2640\n  end_ms: 6560\n- text: '(Redman: Yo ladies and gentlemen. we got Toni Braxton up in the house)'\n  start_ms: 6560\n  end_ms: 9770\n- text: '(Method Man: So high that I can kiss the sky bitch)'\n  start_ms: 9770\n  end_ms: 13790\n- text: '(Redman: We live up in here y''all, let''s get high)'\n  start_ms: 13790\n  end_ms: 16080\n- text: '(Method Man: Motherfucker get high)'\n  start_ms: 16080\n  end_ms: 17920\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 17920\n  end_ms: 20420\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 20420\n  end_ms: 21880\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 21880\n  end_ms: 22780\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 22780\n  end_ms: 23500\n- text: '[Method Man]'\n  start_ms: 23500\n  end_ms: 24300\n- text: Tical shittin again -- spittin to win\n  start_ms: 24300\n  end_ms: 25660\n- text: Loaded guns, clip in the end, none sicker than him\n  start_ms: 25660\n  end_ms: 29030\n- text: Yes indeed, I'm ill as any STD's or sex disease\n  start_ms: 29030\n  end_ms: 31560\n- text: These dirty rats want extra cheese\n  start_ms: 31560\n  end_ms: 33920\n- text: On that piece of the pie, now ask me how high?\n  start_ms: 33920\n  end_ms: 36650\n- text: Until ya reach for the sky blame the crooked letter I\n  start_ms: 36650\n  end_ms: 39150\n- text: That's my home, 23's wrapped in chrome\n  start_ms: 39150\n  end_ms: 41580\n- text: Not only snap on y'all niggaz but I'll snap dem bones\n  start_ms: 41580\n  end_ms: 43970\n- text: Slap your dome, make you leave that crack alone\n  start_ms: 43970\n  end_ms: 46460\n- text: You got the, key to the city but the latch is on\n  start_ms: 46460\n  end_ms: 48970\n- text: I gots it locked, bringin the noise bringin the Funk Doctor Spock\n  start_ms: 48970\n  end_ms: 52260\n- text: Bringin my boys bringin you lungs\n  start_ms: 52260\n  end_ms: 54920\n- text: Pop the glock but only if you feel this shit\n  start_ms: 54920\n  end_ms: 57210\n- text: Jack the Ripper, don't make me have to kill this bitch\n  start_ms: 57210\n  end_ms: 59050\n- text: Back to get'cha put it in check that's the Mista\n  start_ms: 59050\n  end_ms: 61740\n- text: Meth with his wood on your neck, shut your lips up\n  start_ms: 61740\n  end_ms: 63980\n- text: '[Chorus - Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]'\n  start_ms: 63980\n  end_ms: 66650\n- text: I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n  start_ms: 66650\n  end_ms: 69190\n- text: I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n  start_ms: 69190\n  end_ms: 72230\n- text: I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n  start_ms: 72230\n  end_ms: 79580\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 79580\n  end_ms: 80430\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 80430\n  end_ms: 81480\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 81480\n  end_ms: 82350\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 82350\n  end_ms: 83430\n- text: '[Redman]'\n  start_ms: 83430\n  end_ms: 84170\n- text: You can, call on the man when the party is borin\n  start_ms: 84170\n  end_ms: 86470\n- text: I'll have these hoes strippin till it's part of the mornin\n  start_ms: 86470\n  end_ms: 88950\n- text: I love a fat chick, with a body enormous\n  start_ms: 88950\n  end_ms: 91460\n- text: It ain't about the weight yo it's how they performin\n  start_ms: 91460\n  end_ms: 94060\n- text: My dash is 180, my weed half a pound\n  start_ms: 94060\n  end_ms: 96650\n- text: When the smoke in the air my nose like basset hounds\n  start_ms: 96650\n  end_ms: 99260\n- text: I don't stash the dro', nigga divide\n  start_ms: 99260\n  end_ms: 101720\n- text: I'm that nigga that ride with trigga to give a supply\n  start_ms: 101720\n  end_ms: 103990\n- text: High, is how I stay all the time\n  start_ms: 103990\n  end_ms: 106730\n- text: '(Method Man: Niggaz close your doors)'\n  start_ms: 106730\n  end_ms: 107850\n- text: Yo bitches shut all your blinds\n  start_ms: 107850\n  end_ms: 109340\n- text: If I'm, hard to find take two puffs and pass\n  start_ms: 109340\n  end_ms: 111580\n- text: I stay back but my Benz moved up a class\n  start_ms: 111580\n  end_ms: 114230\n- text: It's Doc and Meth the format is real sickenin\n  start_ms: 114230\n  end_ms: 116820\n- text: Contagious, we out for Mr. Biggs women\n  start_ms: 116820\n  end_ms: 119240\n- text: You better shut your trap when my dogs around\n  start_ms: 119240\n  end_ms: 121400\n- text: We pissin on fire hydrants, so walk around bitch!\n  start_ms: 121400\n  end_ms: 123480\n- text: '[Chorus: Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]'\n  start_ms: 123480\n  end_ms: 124470\n- text: I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n  start_ms: 124470\n  end_ms: 129020\n- text: I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n  start_ms: 129020\n  end_ms: 133840\n- text: I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n  start_ms: 133840\n  end_ms: 139120\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 139120\n  end_ms: 140320\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 140320\n  end_ms: 141500\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 141500\n  end_ms: 142710\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 142710\n  end_ms: 143730\n- text: '[Method Man]'\n  start_ms: 143730\n  end_ms: 144270\n- text: Mista Method Man, puttin in work, foot in the dirt\n  start_ms: 144270\n  end_ms: 146650\n- text: Like it's all good, roll through yo' hood, pushin a hearse\n  start_ms: 146650\n  end_ms: 149120\n- text: I wish y'all would, come aruond like Clint Eastwood\n  start_ms: 149120\n  end_ms: 151620\n- text: As if your, reppin your hood in my neck of the woods\n  start_ms: 151620\n  end_ms: 154080\n- text: Street gorillas in the PJ's, grimy bitch\n  start_ms: 154080\n  end_ms: 156390\n- text: I wear the same shit for three days, find me lit\n  start_ms: 156390\n  end_ms: 159700\n- text: Blunt sparks like Felipe - fuck the he say, the she say\n  start_ms: 159700\n  end_ms: 163130\n- text: Adjust the microphone, plus the cliche\n  start_ms: 163130\n  end_ms: 164460\n- text: '[Redman]'\n  start_ms: 164460\n  end_ms: 164860\n- text: Yo, call me the Bob Backlund, I'll break backs on hoes\n  start_ms: 164860\n  end_ms: 166590\n- text: That look like Toni Braxton, come run with these boney masked men\n  start_ms: 166590\n  end_ms: 169420\n- text: I'm out the gutter, I'm to send your baby mother\n  start_ms: 169420\n  end_ms: 172080\n- text: Out for rubbers, we fuckin tonight\n  start_ms: 172080\n  end_ms: 173980\n- text: Bitches wanna crowd around, how I'm cuffin the mic\n  start_ms: 173980\n  end_ms: 176460\n- text: I'm a gorilla, leave a banana stuck in your pipe\n  start_ms: 176460\n  end_ms: 178830\n- text: Cause I'm a real block winner, the Doc inna\n  start_ms: 178830\n  end_ms: 181530\n- text: Bitch one of my balls bigger than the Epcot Center!\n  start_ms: 181530\n  end_ms: 183640\n- text: '[Chorus: Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]'\n  start_ms: 183640\n  end_ms: 185270\n- text: I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n  start_ms: 185270\n  end_ms: 189350\n- text: I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n  start_ms: 189350\n  end_ms: 194790\n- text: I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n  start_ms: 194790\n  end_ms: 199880\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 199880\n  end_ms: 200630\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 200630\n  end_ms: 201760\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 201760\n  end_ms: 202600\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 202600\n  end_ms: 204170\n- text: I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n  start_ms: 204170\n  end_ms: 209480\n- text: I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n  start_ms: 209480\n  end_ms: 214310\n- text: I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n  start_ms: 214310\n  end_ms: 217770\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 217770\n  end_ms: 220400\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 220400\n  end_ms: 221850\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 221850\n  end_ms: 223040\n- text: High (Let's Get)\n  start_ms: 223040\n  end_ms: 229250\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 229250\nplain: |-\n  [Intro: Toni Braxton (Redman/Method Man)]\n  I, I get so high\n\n  (Redman: Yo ladies and gentlemen. we got Toni Braxton up in the house)\n  (Method Man: So high that I can kiss the sky bitch)\n  (Redman: We live up in here y'all, let's get high)\n  (Method Man: Motherfucker get high)\n\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n\n  [Method Man]\n  Tical shittin again -- spittin to win\n  Loaded guns, clip in the end, none sicker than him\n  Yes indeed, I'm ill as any STD's or sex disease\n  These dirty rats want extra cheese\n  On that piece of the pie, now ask me how high?\n  Until ya reach for the sky blame the crooked letter I\n  That's my home, 23's wrapped in chrome\n  Not only snap on y'all niggaz but I'll snap dem bones\n  Slap your dome, make you leave that crack alone\n  You got the, key to the city but the latch is on\n  I gots it locked, bringin the noise bringin the Funk Doctor Spock\n  Bringin my boys bringin you lungs\n  Pop the glock but only if you feel this shit\n  Jack the Ripper, don't make me have to kill this bitch\n  Back to get'cha put it in check that's the Mista\n  Meth with his wood on your neck, shut your lips up\n\n  [Chorus - Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]\n  I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n  I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n  I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n\n  [Redman]\n  You can, call on the man when the party is borin\n  I'll have these hoes strippin till it's part of the mornin\n  I love a fat chick, with a body enormous\n  It ain't about the weight yo it's how they performin\n  My dash is 180, my weed half a pound\n  When the smoke in the air my nose like basset hounds\n  I don't stash the dro', nigga divide\n  I'm that nigga that ride with trigga to give a supply\n  High, is how I stay all the time\n  (Method Man: Niggaz close your doors)\n  Yo bitches shut all your blinds\n  If I'm, hard to find take two puffs and pass\n  I stay back but my Benz moved up a class\n  It's Doc and Meth the format is real sickenin\n  Contagious, we out for Mr. Biggs women\n  You better shut your trap when my dogs around\n  We pissin on fire hydrants, so walk around bitch!\n\n  [Chorus: Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]\n  I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n  I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n  I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n\n  [Method Man]\n  Mista Method Man, puttin in work, foot in the dirt\n  Like it's all good, roll through yo' hood, pushin a hearse\n  I wish y'all would, come aruond like Clint Eastwood\n  As if your, reppin your hood in my neck of the woods\n  Street gorillas in the PJ's, grimy bitch\n  I wear the same shit for three days, find me lit\n  Blunt sparks like Felipe - fuck the he say, the she say\n  Adjust the microphone, plus the cliche\n\n  [Redman]\n  Yo, call me the Bob Backlund, I'll break backs on hoes\n  that look like Toni Braxton, come run with these boney masked men\n  I'm out the gutter, I'm to send your baby mother\n  out for rubbers, we fuckin tonight\n  Bitches wanna crowd around, how I'm cuffin the mic\n  I'm a gorilla, leave a banana stuck in your pipe\n  Cause I'm a real block winner, the Doc inna\n  Bitch one of my balls bigger than the Epcot Center!\n\n  [Chorus: Toni Braxton (Redman & Method Man)]\n  I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n  I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n  I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  I, I get so high (Smoke cheeba cheeba smoke cheeba cheeba)\n  I, can touch the sky (You so high that I can kiss the sky sky)\n  I, I get, so high (Brick City and The Crooked Letter I)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n  High (Let's Get)\n"},{"id":14078336,"name":"Method Man & Redman / Da Rockwilder","trackName":"Method Man & Redman / Da Rockwilder","artistName":"Method Man","albumName":"How High - The Soundtrack","duration":137.4992,"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: Method Man & Redman / Da Rockwilder\n  artist: Method Man\n  album: How High - The Soundtrack\n  duration_ms: 137499\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"}]