[{"id":22829814,"name":"Lyrical .44","trackName":"Lyrical .44","artistName":"Method Man","albumName":"Def Jamaica","duration":213.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Selecta come!!!!!\nPlay this song on your fuckin\nradio, play this song on your fuckin radio\nOh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\nIf it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\nI'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\nCheckin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\nI couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\nTime to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\nSo selecta, come with it, awww shit it\nNow y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\nNow who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\nJamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\nAllah willin, another sound boy killin\nI'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\nThe truth be the ghetto youth\nAnd Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\nThat's what y'all better do\nExamine our skin we plannin to win\nWorldwide tell the people we be jammin again\nMake way for Reggie Hammond\nGot more hoes than grand canyon\nI, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\nI, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\nI'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\nDoctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\nWhen the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\nGot bitches fucked up off the hypno\nI tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n(There I go) Aiyyo money\nI got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n(Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n(Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\nNo Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\nAiyyo dread right or wrong\nI'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\nEat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\nBLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\nBLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\nI neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\nAnd dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\nBlunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\nTeach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\nPut you in a fever\nPussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\nGimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\nGimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\nJr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\nDJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\nJumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\nBabylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\nWell ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\nSo mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\nEverytime when we hear some politician trippin\nWhen a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\nSo just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\nGot a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\nThen mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\nDem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\nGet mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\nIt is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\nHey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\nIf a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\nWell woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\nNatty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\nIf a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\nRastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\nPlay this song on your fuckin\nradio, play this song on your fuckin radio","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical .44\n  artist: Method Man\n  album: Def Jamaica\n  duration_ms: 213000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Selecta come!!!!!\n  Play this song on your fuckin\n  radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n  Oh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\n  If it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\n  I'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\n  Checkin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\n  I couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\n  Time to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\n  So selecta, come with it, awww shit it\n  Now y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\n  Now who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\n  Jamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\n  Allah willin, another sound boy killin\n  I'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\n  The truth be the ghetto youth\n  And Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\n  That's what y'all better do\n  Examine our skin we plannin to win\n  Worldwide tell the people we be jammin again\n  Make way for Reggie Hammond\n  Got more hoes than grand canyon\n  I, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\n  I, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\n  I'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\n  Doctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\n  When the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\n  Got bitches fucked up off the hypno\n  I tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n  (There I go) Aiyyo money\n  I got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n  (Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n  (Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\n  No Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\n  Aiyyo dread right or wrong\n  I'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\n  Eat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\n  BLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\n  BLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\n  And dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\n  Blunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\n  Teach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\n  Put you in a fever\n  Pussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\n  Gimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\n  Gimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\n  Jr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\n  DJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\n  Jumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\n  Babylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\n  Well ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\n  So mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\n  Everytime when we hear some politician trippin\n  When a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\n  So just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\n  Got a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\n  Then mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\n  Dem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\n  Get mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\n  It is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\n  Hey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\n  If a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\n  Well woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\n  Natty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\n  If a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\n  Rastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\n  Play this song on your fuckin\n  radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n"},{"id":39424746,"name":"Lyrical 44","trackName":"Lyrical 44","artistName":"Method Man","albumName":"Red Star Sounds Presents Def","duration":213.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Selecta come!!!!!\nPlay this song on your fuckin\nradio, play this song on your fuckin radio\nOh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\nIf it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\nI'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\nCheckin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\nI couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\nTime to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\nSo selecta, come with it, awww shit it\nNow y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\nNow who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\nJamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\nAllah willin, another sound boy killin\nI'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\nThe truth be the ghetto youth\nAnd Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\nThat's what y'all better do\nExamine our skin we plannin to win\nWorldwide tell the people we be jammin again\nMake way for Reggie Hammond\nGot more hoes than grand canyon\nI, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\nI, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\nI'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\nDoctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\nWhen the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\nGot bitches fucked up off the hypno\nI tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n(There I go) Aiyyo money\nI got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n(Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n(Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\nNo Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\nAiyyo dread right or wrong\nI'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\nEat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\nBLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\nBLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\nI neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\nAnd dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\nBlunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\nTeach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\nPut you in a fever\nPussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\nGimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\nGimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\nJr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\nDJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\nJumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\nBabylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\nWell ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\nSo mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\nEverytime when we hear some politician trippin\nWhen a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\nSo just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\nGot a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\nThen mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\nDem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\nGet mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\nIt is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\nHey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\nIf a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\nWell woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\nNatty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\nIf a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\nRastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\nPlay this song on your fuckin\nradio, play this song on your fuckin radio","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical 44\n  artist: Method Man\n  album: Red Star Sounds Presents Def\n  duration_ms: 212760\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Selecta come!!!!!\n  Play this song on your fuckin\n  radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n  Oh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\n  If it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\n  I'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\n  Checkin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\n  I couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\n  Time to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\n  So selecta, come with it, awww shit it\n  Now y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\n  Now who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\n  Jamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\n  Allah willin, another sound boy killin\n  I'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\n  The truth be the ghetto youth\n  And Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\n  That's what y'all better do\n  Examine our skin we plannin to win\n  Worldwide tell the people we be jammin again\n  Make way for Reggie Hammond\n  Got more hoes than grand canyon\n  I, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\n  I, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\n  I'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\n  Doctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\n  When the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\n  Got bitches fucked up off the hypno\n  I tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n  (There I go) Aiyyo money\n  I got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n  (Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n  (Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\n  No Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\n  Aiyyo dread right or wrong\n  I'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\n  Eat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\n  BLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\n  BLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\n  And dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\n  Blunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\n  Teach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\n  Put you in a fever\n  Pussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\n  Gimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\n  Gimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\n  Jr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\n  DJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\n  Jumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\n  Babylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\n  Well ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\n  So mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\n  Everytime when we hear some politician trippin\n  When a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\n  So just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\n  Got a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\n  Then mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\n  Dem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\n  Get mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\n  It is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\n  Hey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\n  If a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\n  Well woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\n  Natty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\n  If a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\n  Rastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\n  Play this song on your fuckin\n  radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n"},{"id":3932733,"name":"Lyrical .44","trackName":"Lyrical .44","artistName":"Method Man feat. Redman & Damian Marley","albumName":"Def Jamaica (UK Version)","duration":213.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Selecta come!!!!!\nPlay this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\nOh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\nIf it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\nI'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\nCheckin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\nI couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\nTime to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\nSo selecta, come with it, awww shit it\nNow y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\nNow who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\nJamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\nAllah willin, another sound boy killin\nI'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\nThe truth be the ghetto youth\nAnd Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\nThat's what y'all better do\nExamine our skin we plannin to win\nWorldwide tell the people we be jammin again\nMake way for Reggie Hammond\nGot more hoes than grand canyon\nI, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\nI, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\nI'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\nDoctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\nWhen the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\nGot bitches fucked up off the hypno\nI tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n(There I go) Aiyyo money\nI got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n(Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n(Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\nNo Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\nAiyyo dread right or wrong\nI'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\nEat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\nBLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\nBLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\nI neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\nAnd dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\nBlunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\nTeach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\nPut you in a fever\nPussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\nGimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\nGimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\nJr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\nDJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\nJumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\nBabylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\nWell ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\nSo mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\nEverytime when we hear some politician trippin\nWhen a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\nSo just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\nGot a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\nThen mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\nDem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\nGet mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\nIt is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\nHey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\nIf a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\nWell woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\nNatty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\nIf a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\nRastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\nPlay this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical .44\n  artist: Method Man feat. Redman & Damian Marley\n  album: Def Jamaica (UK Version)\n  duration_ms: 213000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Selecta come!!!!!\n  Play this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n  Oh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\n  If it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\n  I'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\n  Checkin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\n  I couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\n  Time to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\n  So selecta, come with it, awww shit it\n  Now y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\n  Now who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\n  Jamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\n  Allah willin, another sound boy killin\n  I'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\n  The truth be the ghetto youth\n  And Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\n  That's what y'all better do\n  Examine our skin we plannin to win\n  Worldwide tell the people we be jammin again\n  Make way for Reggie Hammond\n  Got more hoes than grand canyon\n  I, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\n  I, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\n  I'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\n  Doctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\n  When the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\n  Got bitches fucked up off the hypno\n  I tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n  (There I go) Aiyyo money\n  I got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n  (Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n  (Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\n  No Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\n  Aiyyo dread right or wrong\n  I'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\n  Eat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\n  BLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\n  BLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\n  And dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\n  Blunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\n  Teach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\n  Put you in a fever\n  Pussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\n  Gimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\n  Gimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\n  Jr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\n  DJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\n  Jumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\n  Babylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\n  Well ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\n  So mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\n  Everytime when we hear some politician trippin\n  When a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\n  So just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\n  Got a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\n  Then mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\n  Dem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\n  Get mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\n  It is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\n  Hey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\n  If a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\n  Well woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\n  Natty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\n  If a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\n  Rastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\n  Play this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n"},{"id":11958348,"name":"Lyrical .44 (Album Version Explicit)","trackName":"Lyrical .44 (Album Version Explicit)","artistName":"Method Man","albumName":"Def Jamaica","duration":212.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Selecta come!!!!!\nPlay this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\nOh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\nIf it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\nI'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\nCheckin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\nI couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\nTime to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\nSo selecta, come with it, awww shit it\nNow y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\nNow who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\nJamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\nAllah willin, another sound boy killin\nI'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\nThe truth be the ghetto youth\nAnd Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\nThat's what y'all better do\nExamine our skin we plannin to win\nWorldwide tell the people we be jammin again\nMake way for Reggie Hammond\nGot more hoes than grand canyon\nI, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\nI, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\nI'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\nDoctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\nWhen the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\nGot bitches fucked up off the hypno\nI tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n(There I go) Aiyyo money\nI got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n(Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n(Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\nNo Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\nAiyyo dread right or wrong\nI'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\nEat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\nBLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\nBLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\nI neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\nAnd dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\nBlunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\nTeach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\nPut you in a fever\nPussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\nGimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\nGimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\nJr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\nDJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\nJumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\nBabylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\nWell ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\nSo mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\nEverytime when we hear some politician trippin\nWhen a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\nSo just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\nGot a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\nThen mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\nDem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\nGet mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\nIt is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\nHey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\nIf a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\nWell woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\nNatty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\nIf a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\nRastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\nPlay this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical .44 (Album Version Explicit)\n  artist: Method Man\n  album: Def Jamaica\n  duration_ms: 212000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Selecta come!!!!!\n  Play this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n  Oh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\n  If it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\n  I'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\n  Checkin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\n  I couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\n  Time to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\n  So selecta, come with it, awww shit it\n  Now y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\n  Now who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\n  Jamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\n  Allah willin, another sound boy killin\n  I'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\n  The truth be the ghetto youth\n  And Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\n  That's what y'all better do\n  Examine our skin we plannin to win\n  Worldwide tell the people we be jammin again\n  Make way for Reggie Hammond\n  Got more hoes than grand canyon\n  I, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\n  I, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\n  I'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\n  Doctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\n  When the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\n  Got bitches fucked up off the hypno\n  I tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n  (There I go) Aiyyo money\n  I got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n  (Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n  (Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\n  No Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\n  Aiyyo dread right or wrong\n  I'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\n  Eat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\n  BLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\n  BLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\n  And dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\n  Blunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\n  Teach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\n  Put you in a fever\n  Pussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\n  Gimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\n  Gimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\n  Jr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\n  DJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\n  Jumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\n  Babylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\n  Well ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\n  So mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\n  Everytime when we hear some politician trippin\n  When a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\n  So just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\n  Got a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\n  Then mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\n  Dem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\n  Get mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\n  It is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\n  Hey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\n  If a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\n  Well woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\n  Natty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\n  If a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\n  Rastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\n  Play this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n"},{"id":23066090,"name":"Lyrical .44","trackName":"Lyrical .44","artistName":"Method Man, Redman & Damian \"Jr. Gong\" Marley","albumName":"Red Star Sounds Presents: Def Jamaica","duration":213.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Selecta come!!!!!\nPlay this song on your fuckin\nradio, play this song on your fuckin radio\nOh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\nIf it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\nI'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\nCheckin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\nI couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\nTime to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\nSo selecta, come with it, awww shit it\nNow y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\nNow who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\nJamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\nAllah willin, another sound boy killin\nI'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\nThe truth be the ghetto youth\nAnd Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\nThat's what y'all better do\nExamine our skin we plannin to win\nWorldwide tell the people we be jammin again\nMake way for Reggie Hammond\nGot more hoes than grand canyon\nI, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\nI, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\nI'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\nDoctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\nWhen the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\nGot bitches fucked up off the hypno\nI tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n(There I go) Aiyyo money\nI got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n(Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n(Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\nNo Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\nAiyyo dread right or wrong\nI'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\nEat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\nBLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\nBLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\nI neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\nAnd dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\nBlunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\nTeach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\nPut you in a fever\nPussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\nGimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\nGimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\nJr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\nDJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\nJumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\nBabylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\nWell ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\nSo mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\nEverytime when we hear some politician trippin\nWhen a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\nSo just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\nGot a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\nThen mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\nDem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\nGet mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\nIt is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\nHey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\nIf a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\nWell woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\nNatty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\nIf a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\nRastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\nPlay this song on your fuckin\nradio, play this song on your fuckin radio","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical .44\n  artist: Method Man, Redman & Damian \"Jr. Gong\" Marley\n  album: 'Red Star Sounds Presents: Def Jamaica'\n  duration_ms: 213000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Selecta come!!!!!\n  Play this song on your fuckin\n  radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n  Oh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\n  If it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\n  I'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\n  Checkin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\n  I couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\n  Time to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\n  So selecta, come with it, awww shit it\n  Now y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\n  Now who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\n  Jamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\n  Allah willin, another sound boy killin\n  I'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\n  The truth be the ghetto youth\n  And Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\n  That's what y'all better do\n  Examine our skin we plannin to win\n  Worldwide tell the people we be jammin again\n  Make way for Reggie Hammond\n  Got more hoes than grand canyon\n  I, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\n  I, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\n  I'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\n  Doctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\n  When the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\n  Got bitches fucked up off the hypno\n  I tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n  (There I go) Aiyyo money\n  I got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n  (Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n  (Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\n  No Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\n  Aiyyo dread right or wrong\n  I'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\n  Eat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\n  BLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\n  BLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\n  And dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\n  Blunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\n  Teach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\n  Put you in a fever\n  Pussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\n  Gimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\n  Gimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\n  Jr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\n  DJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\n  Jumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\n  Babylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\n  Well ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\n  So mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\n  Everytime when we hear some politician trippin\n  When a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\n  So just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\n  Got a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\n  Then mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\n  Dem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\n  Get mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\n  It is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\n  Hey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\n  If a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\n  Well woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\n  Natty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\n  If a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\n  Rastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\n  Play this song on your fuckin\n  radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n"},{"id":28037560,"name":"Lyrical .44","trackName":"Lyrical .44","artistName":"Damian \"Junior Gong\" Marley/Method Man/Redman","albumName":"Def Jamaica","duration":213.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Selecta come!!!!!\nPlay this song on your fuckin\nradio, play this song on your fuckin radio\nOh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\nIf it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\nI'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\nCheckin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\nI couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\nTime to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\nSo selecta, come with it, awww shit it\nNow y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\nNow who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\nJamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\nAllah willin, another sound boy killin\nI'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\nThe truth be the ghetto youth\nAnd Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\nThat's what y'all better do\nExamine our skin we plannin to win\nWorldwide tell the people we be jammin again\nMake way for Reggie Hammond\nGot more hoes than grand canyon\nI, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\nI, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\nI'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\nDoctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\nWhen the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\nGot bitches fucked up off the hypno\nI tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n(There I go) Aiyyo money\nI got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n(Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n(Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\nNo Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\nAiyyo dread right or wrong\nI'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\nEat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\nBLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\nBLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\nI neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\nAnd dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\nBlunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\nTeach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\nPut you in a fever\nPussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\nGimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\nGimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\nJr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\nDJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\nJumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\nBabylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\nWell ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\nSo mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\nEverytime when we hear some politician trippin\nWhen a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\nSo just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\nGot a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\nThen mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\nDem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\nGet mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\nIt is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\nHey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\nIf a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\nWell woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\nNatty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\nIf a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\nRastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\nPlay this song on your fuckin\nradio, play this song on your fuckin radio","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical .44\n  artist: Damian \"Junior Gong\" Marley/Method Man/Redman\n  album: Def Jamaica\n  duration_ms: 213000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Selecta come!!!!!\n  Play this song on your fuckin\n  radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n  Oh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\n  If it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\n  I'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\n  Checkin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\n  I couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\n  Time to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\n  So selecta, come with it, awww shit it\n  Now y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\n  Now who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\n  Jamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\n  Allah willin, another sound boy killin\n  I'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\n  The truth be the ghetto youth\n  And Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\n  That's what y'all better do\n  Examine our skin we plannin to win\n  Worldwide tell the people we be jammin again\n  Make way for Reggie Hammond\n  Got more hoes than grand canyon\n  I, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\n  I, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\n  I'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\n  Doctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\n  When the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\n  Got bitches fucked up off the hypno\n  I tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n  (There I go) Aiyyo money\n  I got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n  (Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n  (Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\n  No Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\n  Aiyyo dread right or wrong\n  I'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\n  Eat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\n  BLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\n  BLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\n  And dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\n  Blunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\n  Teach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\n  Put you in a fever\n  Pussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\n  Gimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\n  Gimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\n  Jr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\n  DJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\n  Jumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\n  Babylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\n  Well ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\n  So mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\n  Everytime when we hear some politician trippin\n  When a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\n  So just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\n  Got a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\n  Then mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\n  Dem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\n  Get mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\n  It is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\n  Hey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\n  If a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\n  Well woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\n  Natty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\n  If a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\n  Rastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\n  Play this song on your fuckin\n  radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n"},{"id":31543912,"name":"35. Lyrical .44 (feat. Damian Marley)","trackName":"35. Lyrical .44 (feat. Damian Marley)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"OPAZO presents: Still Blazin!","duration":213.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Selecta come!!!!!\nPlay this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\nOh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\nIf it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\nI'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\nCheckin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\nI couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\nTime to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\nSo selecta, come with it, awww shit it\nNow y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\nNow who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\nJamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\nAllah willin, another sound boy killin\nI'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\nThe truth be the ghetto youth\nAnd Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\nThat's what y'all better do\nExamine our skin we plannin to win\nWorldwide tell the people we be jammin again\nMake way for Reggie Hammond\nGot more hoes than grand canyon\nI, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\nI, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\nI'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\nDoctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\nWhen the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\nGot bitches fucked up off the hypno\nI tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n(There I go) Aiyyo money\nI got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n(Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n(Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\nNo Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\nAiyyo dread right or wrong\nI'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\nEat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\nBLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\nBLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\nI neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\nAnd dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\nBlunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\nTeach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\nPut you in a fever\nPussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\nGimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\nGimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\nJr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\nDJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\nJumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\nBabylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\nWell ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\nSo mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\nEverytime when we hear some politician trippin\nWhen a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\nSo just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\nGot a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\nThen mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\nDem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\nGet mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\nIt is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\nHey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\nIf a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\nWell woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\nNatty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\nIf a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\nRastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\nPlay this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 35. Lyrical .44 (feat. Damian Marley)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: 'OPAZO presents: Still Blazin!'\n  duration_ms: 213000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Selecta come!!!!!\n  Play this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n  Oh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\n  If it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\n  I'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\n  Checkin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\n  I couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\n  Time to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\n  So selecta, come with it, awww shit it\n  Now y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\n  Now who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\n  Jamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\n  Allah willin, another sound boy killin\n  I'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\n  The truth be the ghetto youth\n  And Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\n  That's what y'all better do\n  Examine our skin we plannin to win\n  Worldwide tell the people we be jammin again\n  Make way for Reggie Hammond\n  Got more hoes than grand canyon\n  I, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\n  I, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\n  I'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\n  Doctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\n  When the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\n  Got bitches fucked up off the hypno\n  I tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n  (There I go) Aiyyo money\n  I got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n  (Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n  (Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\n  No Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\n  Aiyyo dread right or wrong\n  I'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\n  Eat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\n  BLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\n  BLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\n  And dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\n  Blunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\n  Teach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\n  Put you in a fever\n  Pussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\n  Gimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\n  Gimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\n  Jr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\n  DJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\n  Jumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\n  Babylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\n  Well ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\n  So mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\n  Everytime when we hear some politician trippin\n  When a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\n  So just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\n  Got a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\n  Then mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\n  Dem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\n  Get mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\n  It is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\n  Hey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\n  If a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\n  Well woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\n  Natty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\n  If a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\n  Rastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\n  Play this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n"},{"id":14570274,"name":"35. Lyrical .44 (feat. Damian Marley)","trackName":"35. Lyrical .44 (feat. Damian Marley)","artistName":"Method Man & Redman","albumName":"OPAZO present: Still Blazin!","duration":212.6921,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Selecta come!!!!!\nPlay this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\nOh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\nIf it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\nI'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\nCheckin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\nI couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\nTime to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\nSo selecta, come with it, awww shit it\nNow y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\nNow who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\nJamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\nAllah willin, another sound boy killin\nI'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\nThe truth be the ghetto youth\nAnd Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\nThat's what y'all better do\nExamine our skin we plannin to win\nWorldwide tell the people we be jammin again\nMake way for Reggie Hammond\nGot more hoes than grand canyon\nI, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\nI, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\nI'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\nDoctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\nWhen the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\nGot bitches fucked up off the hypno\nI tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n(There I go) Aiyyo money\nI got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n(Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n(Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\nNo Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\nAiyyo dread right or wrong\nI'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\nEat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\nBLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\nBLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\nI neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\nAnd dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\nBlunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\nTeach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\nPut you in a fever\nPussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\nGimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\nGimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\nJr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\nDJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\nJumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\nBabylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\nWell ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\nSo mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\nEverytime when we hear some politician trippin\nWhen a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\nSo just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\nGot a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\nThen mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\nDem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\nGet mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\nIt is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\nHey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\nIf a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\nWell woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\nNatty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\nIf a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\nRastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\nPlay this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: 35. Lyrical .44 (feat. Damian Marley)\n  artist: Method Man & Redman\n  album: 'OPAZO present: Still Blazin!'\n  duration_ms: 212692\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Selecta come!!!!!\n  Play this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n  Oh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\n  If it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\n  I'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\n  Checkin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\n  I couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\n  Time to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\n  So selecta, come with it, awww shit it\n  Now y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\n  Now who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\n  Jamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\n  Allah willin, another sound boy killin\n  I'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\n  The truth be the ghetto youth\n  And Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\n  That's what y'all better do\n  Examine our skin we plannin to win\n  Worldwide tell the people we be jammin again\n  Make way for Reggie Hammond\n  Got more hoes than grand canyon\n  I, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\n  I, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\n  I'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\n  Doctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\n  When the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\n  Got bitches fucked up off the hypno\n  I tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n  (There I go) Aiyyo money\n  I got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n  (Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n  (Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\n  No Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\n  Aiyyo dread right or wrong\n  I'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\n  Eat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\n  BLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\n  BLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\n  And dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\n  Blunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\n  Teach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\n  Put you in a fever\n  Pussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\n  Gimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\n  Gimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\n  Jr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\n  DJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\n  Jumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\n  Babylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\n  Well ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\n  So mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\n  Everytime when we hear some politician trippin\n  When a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\n  So just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\n  Got a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\n  Then mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\n  Dem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\n  Get mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\n  It is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\n  Hey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\n  If a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\n  Well woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\n  Natty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\n  If a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\n  Rastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\n  Play this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n"},{"id":12890203,"name":"Lyrical .44 (Album Version ) [Explicit]","trackName":"Lyrical .44 (Album Version ) [Explicit]","artistName":"Method Man, Redman & Damian Marley","albumName":"Def Jamaica","duration":213.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Selecta come!!!!!\nPlay this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\nOh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\nIf it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\nI'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\nCheckin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\nI couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\nTime to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\nSo selecta, come with it, awww shit it\nNow y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\nNow who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\nJamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\nAllah willin, another sound boy killin\nI'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\nThe truth be the ghetto youth\nAnd Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\nThat's what y'all better do\nExamine our skin we plannin to win\nWorldwide tell the people we be jammin again\nMake way for Reggie Hammond\nGot more hoes than grand canyon\nI, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\nI, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\nI'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\nDoctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\nWhen the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\nGot bitches fucked up off the hypno\nI tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n(There I go) Aiyyo money\nI got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n(Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n(Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\nNo Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\nAiyyo dread right or wrong\nI'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\nEat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\nBLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\nI don't care about your bling bling bling\nOver here we let them things ring\nBLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\nBLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\nI neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\nAnd dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\nBlunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\nTeach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\nPut you in a fever\nPussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\nGimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\nGimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\nJr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\nDJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\nJumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\nBabylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\nWell ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\nSo mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\nEverytime when we hear some politician trippin\nWhen a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\nSo just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\nGot a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\nThen mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\nDem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\nGet mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\nIt is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\nHey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\nIf a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\nWell woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\nNatty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\nIf a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\nRastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\nPlay this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio","syncedLyrics":null,"lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Lyrical .44 (Album Version ) [Explicit]\n  artist: Method Man, Redman & Damian Marley\n  album: Def Jamaica\n  duration_ms: 213000\n  instrumental: false\nlines: []\nplain: |-\n  Selecta come!!!!!\n  Play this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n  Oh no, another flow lyrica forty fo'\n  If it gets deep, jump in feet first then hold yo' nose\n  I'm a beast when you step on my toe you hear my whistle\n  Checkin 'em hoe, you see my pistol lettin it go\n  I couldn't wait to do a song right, hardly 'gon do ya wrong\n  Time to party, met Stephen Marley and Jr. Gong\n  So selecta, come with it, awww shit it\n  Now y'all done did it, supper ready y'all come get it\n  Now who 'gon stop me block me pop lock me knock me\n  Jamaica posse most high Haile Selassie\n  Allah willin, another sound boy killin\n  I'm hot bitch I don't catch cold or catch feelings\n  The truth be the ghetto youth\n  And Def Jam y'all know the Meth Man take care of his fam\n  That's what y'all better do\n  Examine our skin we plannin to win\n  Worldwide tell the people we be jammin again\n  Make way for Reggie Hammond\n  Got more hoes than grand canyon\n  I, dig 'em out then tie 'em up for randsome\n  I, shoot at your feet make you start dancin\n  I'm pissin on your picnics where ya campin\n  Doctor got the ziplock from Ziggy\n  When the zig zag roll I'll rip your zip code\n  Got bitches fucked up off the hypno\n  I tip toe, then wait till they bend over\n  (There I go) Aiyyo money\n  I got a moped in Jamaica sittin on twenties\n  (Blaow!) Look out, guns in the air\n  (Blaow!) Selecta guns in the air\n  No Belvedere it's Tiger Bone to get it crackin\n  Aiyyo dread right or wrong\n  I'm a sinner, winner of the underground swimmers\n  Eat dinner, in front of Bob Marley pin up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! give it to me\n  BLAOW!!! Shoot it up BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I don't care about your bling bling bling\n  Over here we let them things ring\n  BLAOW!!! Give it to me BLAOW!!! One time\n  BLAOW!!! give it to me BLAOW!!! give it up\n  I neva wonda why so much ganja reach ya\n  And dem a wonda how so much conquer feature\n  Blunt dem so big a must a bun' it Bob and Peter\n  Teach it like a teacher preach it like a preacher\n  Put you in a fever\n  Pussy couldn't style mi up plus no under achieve\n  Gimme di rizla gimme di blunt and a sensimillia\n  Gimme di chunks gimme di cup and a couple senorita\n  Jr. Gong di veteran a trouble when mi reach ya\n  DJ fi fi fan dem inna Grandtsand and di bleacha\n  Jumpin off on di metah, you best believe yah\n  Babylon a smell skunk and couldn't get mi neitha\n  Well ever since a likkle ghetto youth dem get di crippled\n  So mi know seh babylon dem a go get a weopen\n  Everytime when we hear some politician trippin\n  When a di big ting promote I'm right there wid di clip in\n  So just smile now yuh flip yuh likkle flippin lippin\n  Got a big forty five it's trigga finga lickin\n  Then mi buck up yuh face so far yuh don't know what's happenin\n  Dem wonderin how yuh get so slim it's like yuh fat and go gym\n  Get mi girl inna mi cabin and mi cabin stabbin\n  It is dappin slappin jappin it is non stoppin\n  Hey! No pork caan cook inna mi kitchen\n  If a gal try dat she's a dead pigeon\n  Well woman a tear off mi pants stitchen\n  Natty dreadlocks inna di benz and have recline switchin\n  If a bwoy nuh like dat him may end up missin\n  Rastafari dun tell yuh but yuh don't listen\n  Play this song on your fuckin radio, play this song on your fuckin radio\n"}]