[{"id":25247983,"name":"Set It Off","trackName":"Set It Off","artistName":"Mike Smiff","albumName":"Set It Off","duration":207.199062,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ayy, I go by the name of Mike Smiff (Yeah, yeah)\nI'm from Miami, Florida (Uh-huh)\nAnd I just signed to Slip-n-Slide Records (Yeah)\nYou know we puttin' on for Dade County (Already)\nBroward County, Palm Beach County\nTampa, Tallahassee, Fort Pierce, Bear Glade, Clewiston, Bradenton\nFrom the Panhandle to Key West\nMIA, FLA (Orlando)\nYeah, the M.A.'s runnin' the compound now, nigga (Oh yeah)\nTouche, I'm all in, let's get it, nigga\n\nWe gon' take it back to that gutter shit (Yeah)\nThat pain shit, that struggle shit\n'Cause I ain't really fearin' all that other shit (No)\nYoung Savage, Slip-n-Slide, found me in the trenches\nRobbin' and penny pinchin', dodgin' the penitentiary\nDirty clothes on my floor, dirty dishes in my kitchen\nMarijuana in my lungs, brown liquor in my kidneys\nThe good die young, shit, that's what we were told\nSo we believed we can do anything but grow old\nSo we started livin' life like tomorrow ain't for sure\nEvery nigga I know was robbin' or sellin' dope\nI was sittin' in my math class and I was dead broke\nSo I dropped out of school and started kickin' in doors\nI was influenced by my surroundings\nMan, my whole damn environment was\nFull of nothin' but drugs and violence\nCertified steppers, we was slingin' them hammers\nWe was really out here in it, takin' our freedom for granted\nThey started lockin' niggas up and we found out the hard way\nLookin' out the window, see them boys in the driveway\nKickin' in your door with arrest warrants and search warrants\nWith gloves on, lookin' for the cocaine and firearms\nNobody told us 'bout this part, dawg\nThey only told us 'bout the rims and the big cars, dawg\nOnly told us 'bout the money and the hoes, dawg\nThey ain't tell us 'bout goin' up the road, dawg\nAnd they ain't tell us 'bout these cold-ass cells, nasty-ass food\nHead count, you can't even sleep how you want to\nSix beds with eighty-nine niggas in the same room\nMake a nigga find out soon who really a goon\nAnd they ain't tell us 'bout them courtrooms, you're shackled down\nLookin' all in the crowd, see your mama cryin'\nBrother got his head down, sister 'bout to lose her mind\nYour baby mama lookin' tired, your\nFriends nowhere around, that real pain\nSince they killed my nigga Raymond, I ain't been the same\nSo much anger built up, man, I'm still in pain\nI'll slap a pussy nigga in his shit for anything\nI'm talkin' anything\nAnd I done been through a lot of hurt\nAnd I done walked through a lot of rain, a lot of dirt\nI told Touche, \"This rap shit gotta work\"\nPut Slip-n-Slide on my back 'til my body hurt\nAnd when I make it, tell JAY-Z I'm sorry to say\nI'm puttin' racks to my head, puttin' twenty-eights on my seven-trey\nPuttin' ice on my chain, puttin' a grill in my mouth\nIt ain't no disrespect, but that's just how it is in the South\nWe weren't in these streets riskin', gettin' killed or doin' bids\nTo get all this money just to live, 'cause certain did\nI wanna shine like Master P them, T Double D them\nBoosie, Wayne, and B.G. them, I wanted to be them\nI finally got a chain to get my mama out the projects\nAnd I ain't gotta use no AK's or no Pyrex\nWatch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\nAnd Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\nIt's 1999, yeah\nLike it's 19, yeah\nI say, watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\nAnd Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n\nSlip-n-Slide Records (Slip-n-Slide)\nMike Smiff (Mike Smiff)\n305 M-I-A-Yayo (Yes, sir)\nMIA, FLA (Believe that, woah)\nDown South Dade County, Turnpike South Exit 6 (Uh-huh)\nWe finna set this bitch off (Yeah)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.90] Ayy, I go by the name of Mike Smiff (Yeah, yeah)\n[00:03.03] I'm from Miami, Florida (Uh-huh)\n[00:04.52] And I just signed to Slip-n-Slide Records (Yeah)\n[00:06.71] You know we puttin' on for Dade County (Already)\n[00:08.78] Broward County, Palm Beach County\n[00:10.90] Tampa, Tallahassee, Fort Pierce, Bear Glade, Clewiston, Bradenton\n[00:14.55] From the Panhandle to Key West\n[00:16.35] MIA, FLA (Orlando)\n[00:17.95] Yeah, the M.A.'s runnin' the compound now, nigga (Oh yeah)\n[00:20.35] Touche, I'm all in, let's get it, nigga\n[00:22.18] We gon' take it back to that gutter shit (Yeah)\n[00:24.92] That pain shit, that struggle shit\n[00:26.42] 'Cause I ain't really fearin' all that other shit (No)\n[00:28.83] Young Savage, Slip-n-Slide, found me in the trenches\n[00:31.48] Robbin' and penny pinchin', dodgin' the penitentiary\n[00:34.03] Dirty clothes on my floor, dirty dishes in my kitchen\n[00:37.00] Marijuana in my lungs, brown liquor in my kidneys\n[00:40.02] The good die young, shit, that's what we were told\n[00:42.63] So we believed we can do anything but grow old\n[00:45.48] So we started livin' life like tomorrow ain't for sure\n[00:48.67] Every nigga I know was robbin' or sellin' dope\n[00:51.35] I was sittin' in my math class and I was dead broke\n[00:54.19] So I dropped out of school and started kickin' in doors\n[00:57.03] I was influenced by my surroundings\n[00:59.07] Man, my whole damn environment was\n[01:00.96] Full of nothin' but drugs and violence\n[01:03.05] Certified steppers, we was slingin' them hammers\n[01:05.54] We was really out here in it, takin' our freedom for granted\n[01:08.26] They started lockin' niggas up and we found out the hard way\n[01:11.75] Lookin' out the window, see them boys in the driveway\n[01:14.50] Kickin' in your door with arrest warrants and search warrants\n[01:17.26] With gloves on, lookin' for the cocaine and firearms\n[01:20.37] Nobody told us 'bout this part, dawg\n[01:22.51] They only told us 'bout the rims and the big cars, dawg\n[01:25.68] Only told us 'bout the money and the hoes, dawg\n[01:28.45] They ain't tell us 'bout goin' up the road, dawg\n[01:31.21] And they ain't tell us 'bout these cold-ass cells, nasty-ass food\n[01:34.73] Head count, you can't even sleep how you want to\n[01:37.51] Six beds with eighty-nine niggas in the same room\n[01:40.37] Make a nigga find out soon who really a goon\n[01:43.39] And they ain't tell us 'bout them courtrooms, you're shackled down\n[01:46.49] Lookin' all in the crowd, see your mama cryin'\n[01:48.99] Brother got his head down, sister 'bout to lose her mind\n[01:51.62] Your baby mama lookin' tired, your\n[01:53.33] Friends nowhere around, that real pain\n[01:55.68] Since they killed my nigga Raymond, I ain't been the same\n[01:58.35] So much anger built up, man, I'm still in pain\n[02:01.24] I'll slap a pussy nigga in his shit for anything\n[02:04.00] I'm talkin' anything\n[02:05.59] And I done been through a lot of hurt\n[02:07.72] And I done walked through a lot of rain, a lot of dirt\n[02:10.58] I told Touche, \"This rap shit gotta work\"\n[02:13.35] Put Slip-n-Slide on my back 'til my body hurt\n[02:16.22] And when I make it, tell JAY-Z I'm sorry to say\n[02:19.21] I'm puttin' racks to my head, puttin' twenty-eights on my seven-trey\n[02:22.92] Puttin' ice on my chain, puttin' a grill in my mouth\n[02:25.70] It ain't no disrespect, but that's just how it is in the South\n[02:28.57] We weren't in these streets riskin', gettin' killed or doin' bids\n[02:31.65] To get all this money just to live, 'cause certain did\n[02:34.54] I wanna shine like Master P them, T Double D them\n[02:37.51] Boosie, Wayne, and B.G. them, I wanted to be them\n[02:40.25] I finally got a chain to get my mama out the projects\n[02:43.20] And I ain't gotta use no AK's or no Pyrex\n[02:46.28] Watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n[02:48.56] And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n[02:52.78] It's 1999, yeah\n[02:55.54] Like it's 19, yeah\n[02:57.18] I say, watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n[03:00.02] And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n[03:04.05] Slip-n-Slide Records (Slip-n-Slide)\n[03:05.86] Mike Smiff (Mike Smiff)\n[03:07.21] 305 M-I-A-Yayo (Yes, sir)\n[03:09.65] MIA, FLA (Believe that, woah)\n[03:11.65] Down South Dade County, Turnpike South Exit 6 (Uh-huh)\n[03:15.23] We finna set this bitch off (Yeah)\n[03:25.77] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Set It Off\n  artist: Mike Smiff\n  album: Set It Off\n  duration_ms: 207199\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Ayy, I go by the name of Mike Smiff (Yeah, yeah)\n  start_ms: 900\n  end_ms: 3030\n- text: I'm from Miami, Florida (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 3030\n  end_ms: 4520\n- text: And I just signed to Slip-n-Slide Records (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 4520\n  end_ms: 6710\n- text: You know we puttin' on for Dade County (Already)\n  start_ms: 6710\n  end_ms: 8780\n- text: Broward County, Palm Beach County\n  start_ms: 8780\n  end_ms: 10900\n- text: Tampa, Tallahassee, Fort Pierce, Bear Glade, Clewiston, Bradenton\n  start_ms: 10900\n  end_ms: 14550\n- text: From the Panhandle to Key West\n  start_ms: 14550\n  end_ms: 16350\n- text: MIA, FLA (Orlando)\n  start_ms: 16350\n  end_ms: 17950\n- text: Yeah, the M.A.'s runnin' the compound now, nigga (Oh yeah)\n  start_ms: 17950\n  end_ms: 20350\n- text: Touche, I'm all in, let's get it, nigga\n  start_ms: 20350\n  end_ms: 22180\n- text: We gon' take it back to that gutter shit (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 22180\n  end_ms: 24920\n- text: That pain shit, that struggle shit\n  start_ms: 24920\n  end_ms: 26420\n- text: '''Cause I ain''t really fearin'' all that other shit (No)'\n  start_ms: 26420\n  end_ms: 28830\n- text: Young Savage, Slip-n-Slide, found me in the trenches\n  start_ms: 28830\n  end_ms: 31480\n- text: Robbin' and penny pinchin', dodgin' the penitentiary\n  start_ms: 31480\n  end_ms: 34030\n- text: Dirty clothes on my floor, dirty dishes in my kitchen\n  start_ms: 34030\n  end_ms: 37000\n- text: Marijuana in my lungs, brown liquor in my kidneys\n  start_ms: 37000\n  end_ms: 40020\n- text: The good die young, shit, that's what we were told\n  start_ms: 40020\n  end_ms: 42630\n- text: So we believed we can do anything but grow old\n  start_ms: 42630\n  end_ms: 45480\n- text: So we started livin' life like tomorrow ain't for sure\n  start_ms: 45480\n  end_ms: 48670\n- text: Every nigga I know was robbin' or sellin' dope\n  start_ms: 48670\n  end_ms: 51350\n- text: I was sittin' in my math class and I was dead broke\n  start_ms: 51350\n  end_ms: 54190\n- text: So I dropped out of school and started kickin' in doors\n  start_ms: 54190\n  end_ms: 57030\n- text: I was influenced by my surroundings\n  start_ms: 57030\n  end_ms: 59070\n- text: Man, my whole damn environment was\n  start_ms: 59070\n  end_ms: 60960\n- text: Full of nothin' but drugs and violence\n  start_ms: 60960\n  end_ms: 63050\n- text: Certified steppers, we was slingin' them hammers\n  start_ms: 63050\n  end_ms: 65540\n- text: We was really out here in it, takin' our freedom for granted\n  start_ms: 65540\n  end_ms: 68260\n- text: They started lockin' niggas up and we found out the hard way\n  start_ms: 68260\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Lookin' out the window, see them boys in the driveway\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74500\n- text: Kickin' in your door with arrest warrants and search warrants\n  start_ms: 74500\n  end_ms: 77260\n- text: With gloves on, lookin' for the cocaine and firearms\n  start_ms: 77260\n  end_ms: 80370\n- text: Nobody told us 'bout this part, dawg\n  start_ms: 80370\n  end_ms: 82510\n- text: They only told us 'bout the rims and the big cars, dawg\n  start_ms: 82510\n  end_ms: 85680\n- text: Only told us 'bout the money and the hoes, dawg\n  start_ms: 85680\n  end_ms: 88450\n- text: They ain't tell us 'bout goin' up the road, dawg\n  start_ms: 88450\n  end_ms: 91210\n- text: And they ain't tell us 'bout these cold-ass cells, nasty-ass food\n  start_ms: 91210\n  end_ms: 94730\n- text: Head count, you can't even sleep how you want to\n  start_ms: 94730\n  end_ms: 97510\n- text: Six beds with eighty-nine niggas in the same room\n  start_ms: 97510\n  end_ms: 100370\n- text: Make a nigga find out soon who really a goon\n  start_ms: 100370\n  end_ms: 103390\n- text: And they ain't tell us 'bout them courtrooms, you're shackled down\n  start_ms: 103390\n  end_ms: 106490\n- text: Lookin' all in the crowd, see your mama cryin'\n  start_ms: 106490\n  end_ms: 108990\n- text: Brother got his head down, sister 'bout to lose her mind\n  start_ms: 108990\n  end_ms: 111620\n- text: Your baby mama lookin' tired, your\n  start_ms: 111620\n  end_ms: 113330\n- text: Friends nowhere around, that real pain\n  start_ms: 113330\n  end_ms: 115680\n- text: Since they killed my nigga Raymond, I ain't been the same\n  start_ms: 115680\n  end_ms: 118350\n- text: So much anger built up, man, I'm still in pain\n  start_ms: 118350\n  end_ms: 121240\n- text: I'll slap a pussy nigga in his shit for anything\n  start_ms: 121240\n  end_ms: 124000\n- text: I'm talkin' anything\n  start_ms: 124000\n  end_ms: 125590\n- text: And I done been through a lot of hurt\n  start_ms: 125590\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: And I done walked through a lot of rain, a lot of dirt\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130580\n- text: I told Touche, \"This rap shit gotta work\"\n  start_ms: 130580\n  end_ms: 133350\n- text: Put Slip-n-Slide on my back 'til my body hurt\n  start_ms: 133350\n  end_ms: 136220\n- text: And when I make it, tell JAY-Z I'm sorry to say\n  start_ms: 136220\n  end_ms: 139210\n- text: I'm puttin' racks to my head, puttin' twenty-eights on my seven-trey\n  start_ms: 139210\n  end_ms: 142920\n- text: Puttin' ice on my chain, puttin' a grill in my mouth\n  start_ms: 142920\n  end_ms: 145700\n- text: It ain't no disrespect, but that's just how it is in the South\n  start_ms: 145700\n  end_ms: 148570\n- text: We weren't in these streets riskin', gettin' killed or doin' bids\n  start_ms: 148570\n  end_ms: 151650\n- text: To get all this money just to live, 'cause certain did\n  start_ms: 151650\n  end_ms: 154540\n- text: I wanna shine like Master P them, T Double D them\n  start_ms: 154540\n  end_ms: 157510\n- text: Boosie, Wayne, and B.G. them, I wanted to be them\n  start_ms: 157510\n  end_ms: 160250\n- text: I finally got a chain to get my mama out the projects\n  start_ms: 160250\n  end_ms: 163200\n- text: And I ain't gotta use no AK's or no Pyrex\n  start_ms: 163200\n  end_ms: 166280\n- text: Watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n  start_ms: 166280\n  end_ms: 168560\n- text: And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n  start_ms: 168560\n  end_ms: 172780\n- text: It's 1999, yeah\n  start_ms: 172780\n  end_ms: 175540\n- text: Like it's 19, yeah\n  start_ms: 175540\n  end_ms: 177180\n- text: I say, watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n  start_ms: 177180\n  end_ms: 180020\n- text: And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n  start_ms: 180020\n  end_ms: 184050\n- text: Slip-n-Slide Records (Slip-n-Slide)\n  start_ms: 184050\n  end_ms: 185860\n- text: Mike Smiff (Mike Smiff)\n  start_ms: 185860\n  end_ms: 187210\n- text: 305 M-I-A-Yayo (Yes, sir)\n  start_ms: 187210\n  end_ms: 189650\n- text: MIA, FLA (Believe that, woah)\n  start_ms: 189650\n  end_ms: 191650\n- text: Down South Dade County, Turnpike South Exit 6 (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 191650\n  end_ms: 195230\n- text: We finna set this bitch off (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 195230\n  end_ms: 205770\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 205770\nplain: |-\n  Ayy, I go by the name of Mike Smiff (Yeah, yeah)\n  I'm from Miami, Florida (Uh-huh)\n  And I just signed to Slip-n-Slide Records (Yeah)\n  You know we puttin' on for Dade County (Already)\n  Broward County, Palm Beach County\n  Tampa, Tallahassee, Fort Pierce, Bear Glade, Clewiston, Bradenton\n  From the Panhandle to Key West\n  MIA, FLA (Orlando)\n  Yeah, the M.A.'s runnin' the compound now, nigga (Oh yeah)\n  Touche, I'm all in, let's get it, nigga\n\n  We gon' take it back to that gutter shit (Yeah)\n  That pain shit, that struggle shit\n  'Cause I ain't really fearin' all that other shit (No)\n  Young Savage, Slip-n-Slide, found me in the trenches\n  Robbin' and penny pinchin', dodgin' the penitentiary\n  Dirty clothes on my floor, dirty dishes in my kitchen\n  Marijuana in my lungs, brown liquor in my kidneys\n  The good die young, shit, that's what we were told\n  So we believed we can do anything but grow old\n  So we started livin' life like tomorrow ain't for sure\n  Every nigga I know was robbin' or sellin' dope\n  I was sittin' in my math class and I was dead broke\n  So I dropped out of school and started kickin' in doors\n  I was influenced by my surroundings\n  Man, my whole damn environment was\n  Full of nothin' but drugs and violence\n  Certified steppers, we was slingin' them hammers\n  We was really out here in it, takin' our freedom for granted\n  They started lockin' niggas up and we found out the hard way\n  Lookin' out the window, see them boys in the driveway\n  Kickin' in your door with arrest warrants and search warrants\n  With gloves on, lookin' for the cocaine and firearms\n  Nobody told us 'bout this part, dawg\n  They only told us 'bout the rims and the big cars, dawg\n  Only told us 'bout the money and the hoes, dawg\n  They ain't tell us 'bout goin' up the road, dawg\n  And they ain't tell us 'bout these cold-ass cells, nasty-ass food\n  Head count, you can't even sleep how you want to\n  Six beds with eighty-nine niggas in the same room\n  Make a nigga find out soon who really a goon\n  And they ain't tell us 'bout them courtrooms, you're shackled down\n  Lookin' all in the crowd, see your mama cryin'\n  Brother got his head down, sister 'bout to lose her mind\n  Your baby mama lookin' tired, your\n  Friends nowhere around, that real pain\n  Since they killed my nigga Raymond, I ain't been the same\n  So much anger built up, man, I'm still in pain\n  I'll slap a pussy nigga in his shit for anything\n  I'm talkin' anything\n  And I done been through a lot of hurt\n  And I done walked through a lot of rain, a lot of dirt\n  I told Touche, \"This rap shit gotta work\"\n  Put Slip-n-Slide on my back 'til my body hurt\n  And when I make it, tell JAY-Z I'm sorry to say\n  I'm puttin' racks to my head, puttin' twenty-eights on my seven-trey\n  Puttin' ice on my chain, puttin' a grill in my mouth\n  It ain't no disrespect, but that's just how it is in the South\n  We weren't in these streets riskin', gettin' killed or doin' bids\n  To get all this money just to live, 'cause certain did\n  I wanna shine like Master P them, T Double D them\n  Boosie, Wayne, and B.G. them, I wanted to be them\n  I finally got a chain to get my mama out the projects\n  And I ain't gotta use no AK's or no Pyrex\n  Watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n  And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n  It's 1999, yeah\n  Like it's 19, yeah\n  I say, watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n  And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n\n  Slip-n-Slide Records (Slip-n-Slide)\n  Mike Smiff (Mike Smiff)\n  305 M-I-A-Yayo (Yes, sir)\n  MIA, FLA (Believe that, woah)\n  Down South Dade County, Turnpike South Exit 6 (Uh-huh)\n  We finna set this bitch off (Yeah)\n"},{"id":36005321,"name":"Set It Off","trackName":"Set It Off","artistName":"Mike Smiff","albumName":"Chase Dis Money","duration":201.0,"instrumental":false,"hasWordSync":false,"plainLyrics":"Ayy, I go by the name of Mike Smiff (Yeah, yeah)\nI'm from Miami, Florida (Uh-huh)\nAnd I just signed to Slip-n-Slide Records (Yeah)\nYou know we puttin' on for Dade County (Already)\nBroward County, Palm Beach County\nTampa, Tallahassee, Fort Pierce, Bear Glade, Clewiston, Bradenton\nFrom the Panhandle to Key West\nMIA, FLA (Orlando)\nYeah, the M.A.'s runnin' the compound now, nigga (Oh yeah)\nTouche, I'm all in, let's get it, nigga\n\nWe gon' take it back to that gutter shit (Yeah)\nThat pain shit, that struggle shit\n'Cause I ain't really fearin' all that other shit (No)\nYoung Savage, Slip-n-Slide, found me in the trenches\nRobbin' and penny pinchin', dodgin' the penitentiary\nDirty clothes on my floor, dirty dishes in my kitchen\nMarijuana in my lungs, brown liquor in my kidneys\nThe good die young, shit, that's what we were told\nSo we believed we can do anything but grow old\nSo we started livin' life like tomorrow ain't for sure\nEvery nigga I know was robbin' or sellin' dope\nI was sittin' in my math class and I was dead broke\nSo I dropped out of school and started kickin' in doors\nI was influenced by my surroundings\nMan, my whole damn environment was\nFull of nothin' but drugs and violence\nCertified steppers, we was slingin' them hammers\nWe was really out here in it, takin' our freedom for granted\nThey started lockin' niggas up and we found out the hard way\nLookin' out the window, see them boys in the driveway\nKickin' in your door with arrest warrants and search warrants\nWith gloves on, lookin' for the cocaine and firearms\nNobody told us 'bout this part, dawg\nThey only told us 'bout the rims and the big cars, dawg\nOnly told us 'bout the money and the hoes, dawg\nThey ain't tell us 'bout goin' up the road, dawg\nAnd they ain't tell us 'bout these cold-ass cells, nasty-ass food\nHead count, you can't even sleep how you want to\nSix beds with eighty-nine niggas in the same room\nMake a nigga find out soon who really a goon\nAnd they ain't tell us 'bout them courtrooms, you're shackled down\nLookin' all in the crowd, see your mama cryin'\nBrother got his head down, sister 'bout to lose her mind\nYour baby mama lookin' tired, your\nFriends nowhere around, that real pain\nSince they killed my nigga Raymond, I ain't been the same\nSo much anger built up, man, I'm still in pain\nI'll slap a pussy nigga in his shit for anything\nI'm talkin' anything\nAnd I done been through a lot of hurt\nAnd I done walked through a lot of rain, a lot of dirt\nI told Touche, \"This rap shit gotta work\"\nPut Slip-n-Slide on my back 'til my body hurt\nAnd when I make it, tell JAY-Z I'm sorry to say\nI'm puttin' racks to my head, puttin' twenty-eights on my seven-trey\nPuttin' ice on my chain, puttin' a grill in my mouth\nIt ain't no disrespect, but that's just how it is in the South\nWe weren't in these streets riskin', gettin' killed or doin' bids\nTo get all this money just to live, 'cause certain did\nI wanna shine like Master P them, T Double D them\nBoosie, Wayne, and B.G. them, I wanted to be them\nI finally got a chain to get my mama out the projects\nAnd I ain't gotta use no AK's or no Pyrex\nWatch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\nAnd Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\nIt's 1999, yeah\nLike it's 19, yeah\nI say, watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\nAnd Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n\nSlip-n-Slide Records (Slip-n-Slide)\nMike Smiff (Mike Smiff)\n305 M-I-A-Yayo (Yes, sir)\nMIA, FLA (Believe that, woah)\nDown South Dade County, Turnpike South Exit 6 (Uh-huh)\nWe finna set this bitch off (Yeah)","syncedLyrics":"[00:00.90] Ayy, I go by the name of Mike Smiff (Yeah, yeah)\n[00:03.03] I'm from Miami, Florida (Uh-huh)\n[00:04.52] And I just signed to Slip-n-Slide Records (Yeah)\n[00:06.71] You know we puttin' on for Dade County (Already)\n[00:08.78] Broward County, Palm Beach County\n[00:10.90] Tampa, Tallahassee, Fort Pierce, Bear Glade, Clewiston, Bradenton\n[00:14.55] From the Panhandle to Key West\n[00:16.35] MIA, FLA (Orlando)\n[00:17.95] Yeah, the M.A.'s runnin' the compound now, nigga (Oh yeah)\n[00:20.35] Touche, I'm all in, let's get it, nigga\n[00:22.18] We gon' take it back to that gutter shit (Yeah)\n[00:24.92] That pain shit, that struggle shit\n[00:26.42] 'Cause I ain't really fearin' all that other shit (No)\n[00:28.83] Young Savage, Slip-n-Slide, found me in the trenches\n[00:31.48] Robbin' and penny pinchin', dodgin' the penitentiary\n[00:34.03] Dirty clothes on my floor, dirty dishes in my kitchen\n[00:37.00] Marijuana in my lungs, brown liquor in my kidneys\n[00:40.02] The good die young, shit, that's what we were told\n[00:42.63] So we believed we can do anything but grow old\n[00:45.48] So we started livin' life like tomorrow ain't for sure\n[00:48.67] Every nigga I know was robbin' or sellin' dope\n[00:51.35] I was sittin' in my math class and I was dead broke\n[00:54.19] So I dropped out of school and started kickin' in doors\n[00:57.03] I was influenced by my surroundings\n[00:59.07] Man, my whole damn environment was\n[01:00.96] Full of nothin' but drugs and violence\n[01:03.05] Certified steppers, we was slingin' them hammers\n[01:05.54] We was really out here in it, takin' our freedom for granted\n[01:08.26] They started lockin' niggas up and we found out the hard way\n[01:11.75] Lookin' out the window, see them boys in the driveway\n[01:14.50] Kickin' in your door with arrest warrants and search warrants\n[01:17.26] With gloves on, lookin' for the cocaine and firearms\n[01:20.37] Nobody told us 'bout this part, dawg\n[01:22.51] They only told us 'bout the rims and the big cars, dawg\n[01:25.68] Only told us 'bout the money and the hoes, dawg\n[01:28.45] They ain't tell us 'bout goin' up the road, dawg\n[01:31.21] And they ain't tell us 'bout these cold-ass cells, nasty-ass food\n[01:34.73] Head count, you can't even sleep how you want to\n[01:37.51] Six beds with eighty-nine niggas in the same room\n[01:40.37] Make a nigga find out soon who really a goon\n[01:43.39] And they ain't tell us 'bout them courtrooms, you're shackled down\n[01:46.49] Lookin' all in the crowd, see your mama cryin'\n[01:48.99] Brother got his head down, sister 'bout to lose her mind\n[01:51.62] Your baby mama lookin' tired, your\n[01:53.33] Friends nowhere around, that real pain\n[01:55.68] Since they killed my nigga Raymond, I ain't been the same\n[01:58.35] So much anger built up, man, I'm still in pain\n[02:01.24] I'll slap a pussy nigga in his shit for anything\n[02:04.00] I'm talkin' anything\n[02:05.59] And I done been through a lot of hurt\n[02:07.72] And I done walked through a lot of rain, a lot of dirt\n[02:10.58] I told Touche, \"This rap shit gotta work\"\n[02:13.35] Put Slip-n-Slide on my back 'til my body hurt\n[02:16.22] And when I make it, tell JAY-Z I'm sorry to say\n[02:19.21] I'm puttin' racks to my head, puttin' twenty-eights on my seven-trey\n[02:22.92] Puttin' ice on my chain, puttin' a grill in my mouth\n[02:25.70] It ain't no disrespect, but that's just how it is in the South\n[02:28.57] We weren't in these streets riskin', gettin' killed or doin' bids\n[02:31.65] To get all this money just to live, 'cause certain did\n[02:34.54] I wanna shine like Master P them, T Double D them\n[02:37.51] Boosie, Wayne, and B.G. them, I wanted to be them\n[02:40.25] I finally got a chain to get my mama out the projects\n[02:43.20] And I ain't gotta use no AK's or no Pyrex\n[02:46.28] Watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n[02:48.56] And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n[02:52.78] It's 1999, yeah\n[02:55.54] Like it's 19, yeah\n[02:57.18] I say, watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n[03:00.02] And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n[03:04.05] Slip-n-Slide Records (Slip-n-Slide)\n[03:05.86] Mike Smiff (Mike Smiff)\n[03:07.21] 305 M-I-A-Yayo (Yes, sir)\n[03:09.65] MIA, FLA (Believe that, woah)\n[03:11.65] Down South Dade County, Turnpike South Exit 6 (Uh-huh)\n[03:15.23] We finna set this bitch off (Yeah)\n[03:25.77] ","lyricsfile":"version: '1.0'\nmetadata:\n  title: Set It Off\n  artist: Mike Smiff\n  album: Chase Dis Money\n  duration_ms: 201000\n  instrumental: false\nlines:\n- text: Ayy, I go by the name of Mike Smiff (Yeah, yeah)\n  start_ms: 900\n  end_ms: 3030\n- text: I'm from Miami, Florida (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 3030\n  end_ms: 4520\n- text: And I just signed to Slip-n-Slide Records (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 4520\n  end_ms: 6710\n- text: You know we puttin' on for Dade County (Already)\n  start_ms: 6710\n  end_ms: 8780\n- text: Broward County, Palm Beach County\n  start_ms: 8780\n  end_ms: 10900\n- text: Tampa, Tallahassee, Fort Pierce, Bear Glade, Clewiston, Bradenton\n  start_ms: 10900\n  end_ms: 14550\n- text: From the Panhandle to Key West\n  start_ms: 14550\n  end_ms: 16350\n- text: MIA, FLA (Orlando)\n  start_ms: 16350\n  end_ms: 17950\n- text: Yeah, the M.A.'s runnin' the compound now, nigga (Oh yeah)\n  start_ms: 17950\n  end_ms: 20350\n- text: Touche, I'm all in, let's get it, nigga\n  start_ms: 20350\n  end_ms: 22180\n- text: We gon' take it back to that gutter shit (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 22180\n  end_ms: 24920\n- text: That pain shit, that struggle shit\n  start_ms: 24920\n  end_ms: 26420\n- text: '''Cause I ain''t really fearin'' all that other shit (No)'\n  start_ms: 26420\n  end_ms: 28830\n- text: Young Savage, Slip-n-Slide, found me in the trenches\n  start_ms: 28830\n  end_ms: 31480\n- text: Robbin' and penny pinchin', dodgin' the penitentiary\n  start_ms: 31480\n  end_ms: 34030\n- text: Dirty clothes on my floor, dirty dishes in my kitchen\n  start_ms: 34030\n  end_ms: 37000\n- text: Marijuana in my lungs, brown liquor in my kidneys\n  start_ms: 37000\n  end_ms: 40020\n- text: The good die young, shit, that's what we were told\n  start_ms: 40020\n  end_ms: 42630\n- text: So we believed we can do anything but grow old\n  start_ms: 42630\n  end_ms: 45480\n- text: So we started livin' life like tomorrow ain't for sure\n  start_ms: 45480\n  end_ms: 48670\n- text: Every nigga I know was robbin' or sellin' dope\n  start_ms: 48670\n  end_ms: 51350\n- text: I was sittin' in my math class and I was dead broke\n  start_ms: 51350\n  end_ms: 54190\n- text: So I dropped out of school and started kickin' in doors\n  start_ms: 54190\n  end_ms: 57030\n- text: I was influenced by my surroundings\n  start_ms: 57030\n  end_ms: 59070\n- text: Man, my whole damn environment was\n  start_ms: 59070\n  end_ms: 60960\n- text: Full of nothin' but drugs and violence\n  start_ms: 60960\n  end_ms: 63050\n- text: Certified steppers, we was slingin' them hammers\n  start_ms: 63050\n  end_ms: 65540\n- text: We was really out here in it, takin' our freedom for granted\n  start_ms: 65540\n  end_ms: 68260\n- text: They started lockin' niggas up and we found out the hard way\n  start_ms: 68260\n  end_ms: 71750\n- text: Lookin' out the window, see them boys in the driveway\n  start_ms: 71750\n  end_ms: 74500\n- text: Kickin' in your door with arrest warrants and search warrants\n  start_ms: 74500\n  end_ms: 77260\n- text: With gloves on, lookin' for the cocaine and firearms\n  start_ms: 77260\n  end_ms: 80370\n- text: Nobody told us 'bout this part, dawg\n  start_ms: 80370\n  end_ms: 82510\n- text: They only told us 'bout the rims and the big cars, dawg\n  start_ms: 82510\n  end_ms: 85680\n- text: Only told us 'bout the money and the hoes, dawg\n  start_ms: 85680\n  end_ms: 88450\n- text: They ain't tell us 'bout goin' up the road, dawg\n  start_ms: 88450\n  end_ms: 91210\n- text: And they ain't tell us 'bout these cold-ass cells, nasty-ass food\n  start_ms: 91210\n  end_ms: 94730\n- text: Head count, you can't even sleep how you want to\n  start_ms: 94730\n  end_ms: 97510\n- text: Six beds with eighty-nine niggas in the same room\n  start_ms: 97510\n  end_ms: 100370\n- text: Make a nigga find out soon who really a goon\n  start_ms: 100370\n  end_ms: 103390\n- text: And they ain't tell us 'bout them courtrooms, you're shackled down\n  start_ms: 103390\n  end_ms: 106490\n- text: Lookin' all in the crowd, see your mama cryin'\n  start_ms: 106490\n  end_ms: 108990\n- text: Brother got his head down, sister 'bout to lose her mind\n  start_ms: 108990\n  end_ms: 111620\n- text: Your baby mama lookin' tired, your\n  start_ms: 111620\n  end_ms: 113330\n- text: Friends nowhere around, that real pain\n  start_ms: 113330\n  end_ms: 115680\n- text: Since they killed my nigga Raymond, I ain't been the same\n  start_ms: 115680\n  end_ms: 118350\n- text: So much anger built up, man, I'm still in pain\n  start_ms: 118350\n  end_ms: 121240\n- text: I'll slap a pussy nigga in his shit for anything\n  start_ms: 121240\n  end_ms: 124000\n- text: I'm talkin' anything\n  start_ms: 124000\n  end_ms: 125590\n- text: And I done been through a lot of hurt\n  start_ms: 125590\n  end_ms: 127720\n- text: And I done walked through a lot of rain, a lot of dirt\n  start_ms: 127720\n  end_ms: 130580\n- text: I told Touche, \"This rap shit gotta work\"\n  start_ms: 130580\n  end_ms: 133350\n- text: Put Slip-n-Slide on my back 'til my body hurt\n  start_ms: 133350\n  end_ms: 136220\n- text: And when I make it, tell JAY-Z I'm sorry to say\n  start_ms: 136220\n  end_ms: 139210\n- text: I'm puttin' racks to my head, puttin' twenty-eights on my seven-trey\n  start_ms: 139210\n  end_ms: 142920\n- text: Puttin' ice on my chain, puttin' a grill in my mouth\n  start_ms: 142920\n  end_ms: 145700\n- text: It ain't no disrespect, but that's just how it is in the South\n  start_ms: 145700\n  end_ms: 148570\n- text: We weren't in these streets riskin', gettin' killed or doin' bids\n  start_ms: 148570\n  end_ms: 151650\n- text: To get all this money just to live, 'cause certain did\n  start_ms: 151650\n  end_ms: 154540\n- text: I wanna shine like Master P them, T Double D them\n  start_ms: 154540\n  end_ms: 157510\n- text: Boosie, Wayne, and B.G. them, I wanted to be them\n  start_ms: 157510\n  end_ms: 160250\n- text: I finally got a chain to get my mama out the projects\n  start_ms: 160250\n  end_ms: 163200\n- text: And I ain't gotta use no AK's or no Pyrex\n  start_ms: 163200\n  end_ms: 166280\n- text: Watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n  start_ms: 166280\n  end_ms: 168560\n- text: And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n  start_ms: 168560\n  end_ms: 172780\n- text: It's 1999, yeah\n  start_ms: 172780\n  end_ms: 175540\n- text: Like it's 19, yeah\n  start_ms: 175540\n  end_ms: 177180\n- text: I say, watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n  start_ms: 177180\n  end_ms: 180020\n- text: And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n  start_ms: 180020\n  end_ms: 184050\n- text: Slip-n-Slide Records (Slip-n-Slide)\n  start_ms: 184050\n  end_ms: 185860\n- text: Mike Smiff (Mike Smiff)\n  start_ms: 185860\n  end_ms: 187210\n- text: 305 M-I-A-Yayo (Yes, sir)\n  start_ms: 187210\n  end_ms: 189650\n- text: MIA, FLA (Believe that, woah)\n  start_ms: 189650\n  end_ms: 191650\n- text: Down South Dade County, Turnpike South Exit 6 (Uh-huh)\n  start_ms: 191650\n  end_ms: 195230\n- text: We finna set this bitch off (Yeah)\n  start_ms: 195230\n  end_ms: 205770\n- text: ''\n  start_ms: 205770\nplain: |-\n  Ayy, I go by the name of Mike Smiff (Yeah, yeah)\n  I'm from Miami, Florida (Uh-huh)\n  And I just signed to Slip-n-Slide Records (Yeah)\n  You know we puttin' on for Dade County (Already)\n  Broward County, Palm Beach County\n  Tampa, Tallahassee, Fort Pierce, Bear Glade, Clewiston, Bradenton\n  From the Panhandle to Key West\n  MIA, FLA (Orlando)\n  Yeah, the M.A.'s runnin' the compound now, nigga (Oh yeah)\n  Touche, I'm all in, let's get it, nigga\n\n  We gon' take it back to that gutter shit (Yeah)\n  That pain shit, that struggle shit\n  'Cause I ain't really fearin' all that other shit (No)\n  Young Savage, Slip-n-Slide, found me in the trenches\n  Robbin' and penny pinchin', dodgin' the penitentiary\n  Dirty clothes on my floor, dirty dishes in my kitchen\n  Marijuana in my lungs, brown liquor in my kidneys\n  The good die young, shit, that's what we were told\n  So we believed we can do anything but grow old\n  So we started livin' life like tomorrow ain't for sure\n  Every nigga I know was robbin' or sellin' dope\n  I was sittin' in my math class and I was dead broke\n  So I dropped out of school and started kickin' in doors\n  I was influenced by my surroundings\n  Man, my whole damn environment was\n  Full of nothin' but drugs and violence\n  Certified steppers, we was slingin' them hammers\n  We was really out here in it, takin' our freedom for granted\n  They started lockin' niggas up and we found out the hard way\n  Lookin' out the window, see them boys in the driveway\n  Kickin' in your door with arrest warrants and search warrants\n  With gloves on, lookin' for the cocaine and firearms\n  Nobody told us 'bout this part, dawg\n  They only told us 'bout the rims and the big cars, dawg\n  Only told us 'bout the money and the hoes, dawg\n  They ain't tell us 'bout goin' up the road, dawg\n  And they ain't tell us 'bout these cold-ass cells, nasty-ass food\n  Head count, you can't even sleep how you want to\n  Six beds with eighty-nine niggas in the same room\n  Make a nigga find out soon who really a goon\n  And they ain't tell us 'bout them courtrooms, you're shackled down\n  Lookin' all in the crowd, see your mama cryin'\n  Brother got his head down, sister 'bout to lose her mind\n  Your baby mama lookin' tired, your\n  Friends nowhere around, that real pain\n  Since they killed my nigga Raymond, I ain't been the same\n  So much anger built up, man, I'm still in pain\n  I'll slap a pussy nigga in his shit for anything\n  I'm talkin' anything\n  And I done been through a lot of hurt\n  And I done walked through a lot of rain, a lot of dirt\n  I told Touche, \"This rap shit gotta work\"\n  Put Slip-n-Slide on my back 'til my body hurt\n  And when I make it, tell JAY-Z I'm sorry to say\n  I'm puttin' racks to my head, puttin' twenty-eights on my seven-trey\n  Puttin' ice on my chain, puttin' a grill in my mouth\n  It ain't no disrespect, but that's just how it is in the South\n  We weren't in these streets riskin', gettin' killed or doin' bids\n  To get all this money just to live, 'cause certain did\n  I wanna shine like Master P them, T Double D them\n  Boosie, Wayne, and B.G. them, I wanted to be them\n  I finally got a chain to get my mama out the projects\n  And I ain't gotta use no AK's or no Pyrex\n  Watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n  And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n  It's 1999, yeah\n  Like it's 19, yeah\n  I say, watch a nigga grind and put it all on the line\n  And Slip-n-Slide finna shine like in 1999, yeah\n\n  Slip-n-Slide Records (Slip-n-Slide)\n  Mike Smiff (Mike Smiff)\n  305 M-I-A-Yayo (Yes, sir)\n  MIA, FLA (Believe that, woah)\n  Down South Dade County, Turnpike South Exit 6 (Uh-huh)\n  We finna set this bitch off (Yeah)\n"}]